When poor Bill dropped down in Symonds's"-- he jerked his thumb towards the boarding-house door--"Symonds himself was for turning everyone out.

Very nice feeling he showed, I will say.

'Damn it, here's a go!' he says; 'and the man looked healthy enough for another ten year, with proper care!'-- and went off at once to stop the fiddlers and put up the shutters.

But, of course, it meant a loss to him, the place being full at the time; and I felt a sort of responsibility for having introduced Bill.

So I went after him and says I, 'This is a most unforeseen occurrence.' 'Not a bit,' says he; 'accidents will happen.' I told him that the corpse had never been a wet blanket; it wasn't his nature; and I felt sure he wouldn't like the thought.
'If that's the case, says Symonds, 'I've a little room at the back where he'd go very comfortable--quite shut off, as you might say.
We must send for the doctor, of course, and the crowner can sit on him to-morrow--that is, if you feel sure deceased wouldn' think it any disrespect.' 'Disrespect ?' says I.