Darrow
remembered that, summer and winter, that dignitary had always perspired!
Burns stood by the door, rooted to the spot, his jaw dropped, his eye
staring. Darrow quite calmly walked to the desk. He picked up the inkstand
and gazed curiously at its solidified contents, touched the nearest man,
gazed curiously at the papers on the desk, and addressed Burns.
"These seem to be frozen, too," he remarked almost sleepily, "and about
time, too. This is a sweet gang to be getting together on this sort of a
job!"
Quite calmly he gathered the papers on the desk and stuffed them into his
pocket. He picked up the desk telephone, giving a number. "Ouch, this
receiver's cold," he remarked to Burns. "Hello, _Despatch_. Is Hallowell
in the office? Just in? Send him over right quick, keen jump, City Hall,
mayor's second-story office. No, right now. Tell him it's Darrow."
He hung up the receiver.
"Curious phenomenon," he remarked to Burns, who still stood rooted to the
spot. "You see, their bodies were naturally almost in equilibrium, and, as
they were frozen immediately, that equilibrium was maintained. And the
color. I suppose the blood was congealed in the smaller veins, and did
not, as in more gradual freezing, recede to the larger blood-vessels. I'm
getting frost bitten myself in here. Let's get outside."
But Officer Burns heard none of this. As Darrow moved toward the door he
crossed himself and bolted.
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