A weight settled in Barnabus’s chest. Grave robbing was something every doctor was both familiar and uncomfortable with. It was a well-known secret that most medical school cadavers were obtained through the efforts of “resurrection men”; a bit of moral ambiguity most doctors struggled to make their peace with.

“Why would a resurrectionist bother with bodies that were damaged by fire?” Kumar asked. “No medical school or curious doctor would pay them for . . .” He let the commentary dangle, likely not knowing how to complete the sentence without sounding cruel or inhumane.

The whole group looked to Barnabus, he being the only doctor among them. Exhaling a tense breath, he offered some of the expertise he had on the matter. “If someone were studying the effects of fire, that person might be interested. There are, unfortunately, people with morbid interests and curiosities, but without true medical interest, who pay for bodies. Resurrectionists can also be employed for revenge. They also sometimes nip off with a body as a means of hiding something.”

“Could it be the Mastiff felt something about these two unfortunate people needed to be hidden? Perhaps some odd clue that might lead to his true identity or whereabouts?” Kumar asked.

No one seemed certain.

Fletcher shook his head, not in dismissal of the idea but in growing confusion. “What could possibly be kept hidden by stealing their bodies?”

“Seems a question that ought to be posed to the fella that did the resurrecting,” Stone said.

“I don’t have any personal connections to resurrection men,” Fletcher said dryly. “Do any of you?”

With a lump of apprehension, Barnabus realized he would need to make a confession he’d never intended to. “I do,” he said on a sigh.

They all looked at him with wide-eyed surprise.

“From your days in medical school?” Fletcher guessed.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?” Elizabeth pressed.

“I know someone who is familiar with that line of work and the people who undertake it.”

“How familiar?”

“Extremely.”

“And how well do you know this mystery person?” Fletcher asked.

“Extremely well.”

Brogan had that look on his face that always portended mischief. “How extremely well? A neighbor? A rival for some long-ago lady’s affection?”

Barnabus pushed out a heavy, tense breath. “None of those things.”

“Then how do you know him?” Fletcher asked again.

“I know her—”

That captured everyone’s attention. He was known among them as the eternal bachelor, the doctor who had no interest in love or connections.

“—because she’s my wife.”

The Bachelor and the Bride

the Bachelor
and the Bride

by Mr. King

Installment I
in which our Hero inquires of a Wise Woman and receives Instructions of a most unexpected nature!