"Inspector Badger says all the ribs is here, and all the bones of the neck as well." "The inspector seems to be an anatomist," I remarked.
The sergeant grinned.

"He's a very knowing gentleman, is Mr.Badger.

He came down here this morning quite early and spent a long time looking over the bones and checking them by some notes in his pocket-book.

I fancy he's got something on, but he was precious close about it." Here the sergeant shut up rather suddenly--perhaps contrasting his own conduct with that of his superior.
"Let us have these new bones out on the table," said the police-surgeon.
"Take that sheet off, and don't shoot them out as if they were coals.
Hand them out carefully." The labourer fished out the wet and muddy bones one by one from the sack, and as he laid them on the table the surgeon arranged them in their proper relative positions.
"This has been a neatly executed job," he remarked; "none of your clumsy hacking with a chopper or a saw.

The bones have been cleanly separated at the joints.