Belton was not then dead, for he had only been hanging for seven minutes, and the bullet had not entered the skull but had simply ploughed its way under the skin.

He was, however, unconscious, and to all appearances dead.
The three men bore him to Dr.Zackland's residence, and entered a rear door.

They laid him on a dissecting table in the rear room, the room in which the doctor performed all surgical operations.
Dr.Zackland came to the table and looked down on Belton with a happy smile.

To have such a robust, well-formed, handsome nigger to dissect and examine he regarded as one of the greatest boons of his medical career.
The three men started to retire.

"Wait," said Dr.Zackland, "let us see if he is dead." Belton had now returned to consciousness but kept his eyes closed, thinking it best to feign death.