Then he threw open the lid and revealed a mass of excelsior and scraps of newspapers. 

 This being torn away disclosed a dead and ghastly face—the face of unfortunate Corbut, the waiter. 

 

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 TRACING THE TRUNKS. 

 Corbut's body had been cut in two. Only half was in the trunk which Nick had opened. 

 The other half was not, however, far away. It was in the other trunk. 

 Both trunks contained considerable blood, but they had been neatly lined with rubber cloth, apparently taken from a rubber blanket and a man's heavy waterproof coat. 

 It was so fitted that the trunks, when closed, were water-tight. 

 "The neatest job I ever saw," said Nick. "Come, Gaspard, tell the story." 

 "I swear to you," cried Gaspard, "that I know nothing about it." 

 At this moment Patsy rapped on the door. He had brought back Harrigan. 

 "Come in!" said Nick; and they both entered. 

 "Holy mother!" shrieked Harrigan, when he saw the open trunks. "So help me, gentlemen, I don't know nothing about this business. I ain't in it. I'm tellin' yer straight. Youse don't believe I had anything to do wid this, do yer?" 

 "You brought the trunks here," said Nick. 

 "Lemme tell youse all about it," cried Harrigan, who was so anxious to tell that he couldn't talk fast enough. "De French leddy struck me on me old place. You know. Where I was de odder night. 

 "She talked a kind o' dago, but I tumbled to what she was a-givin' me. This was about half-past seven o'clock. 

 "'Meet me,' says she, 'in an hour.' An' she give me street an' number. 

 "It was West Fifty-seventh street; but dere ain't no such number. Dere's nuttin' but a high board fence. 

 "But that didn't 

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