“Ripping to have him so thin,” said Newson, wiping his hands. “The blighter can’t have had anything to eat for a month.”
“I wonder what he died of,” murmured Philip.
“Oh, I don’t know, any old thing, starvation chiefly, I suppose.... I say, look out, don’t cut that artery.”
“It’s all very fine to say, don’t cut that artery,”remarked one of the men working on the opposite leg. “Silly old fool’s got an artery in the wrong place.”