engaged to the young lady up at The Towers, and last week there was grand doings there—lords and ladies and lots of quality staying there, and also the captain.'
"'Well?' asked the coroner eagerly, whilst everyone held their breath, wondering what was to come.
"'Well,' continued Michael Pitkin, 'old man Newton went down to The Towers one day. 'E was determined to see young Mr. Ledbury, and went. What 'appened I don't know, for old Mat wouldn't tell me, but 'e came back mighty furious from 'is visit, and swore 'e would ruin the young man and make no end of a scandal, and he would bring the law agin' 'im and get £5000 damages.'
"This story, embellished, of course, by many details, was the gist of what the worthy landlord of the Fernhead Arms had to say, but you may imagine how everyone's excitement and curiosity was aroused; in the meanwhile Samuel Holder was getting over his nervousness, and was more ready to give a clear account of what happened on the fatal night itself.
"'It was about nine o'clock,' he explained in answer to the coroner, 'and I was hurrying back to Ayrsham, through the fields; it was dark and raining, and I was about to strike across the hedge into the lane when I heard voices—a woman's, then a man's. Of course, I could see nothing, and the man spoke in a whisper, but I had recognised Mary's voice quite plainly. She kept on saying: "'Tisn't my fault!' she says, "it's father's, 'e 'as made up 'is mind. I held out as long as I could, but 'e worried me, and now 'e's got your letters, and it's too late."'
"Samuel Holder again paused a moment, then continued:
"'They talked together for a long time: Mary seemed very upset and the man very angry. Presently 'e says to 'er: "Well, tell your father to come out here and speak to me for a moment. I'll see what I can do." Mary seemed to 'esitate for a time, then she went away, and the man waited there in the drizzling rain, with me the other side of the 'edge watchin' 'im. I waited for a long time, for I wanted to know what was goin' to 'appen; then time went on. I thought perhaps that old Mat was at the Fernhead Arms, and that Mary couldn't find 'im, so I went back to Ayrsham by the fields, 'oping to find the old man. The stranger didn't budge. 'E seemed inclined to wait—so I left 'im there—and—and—that's all. I went to the Fernhead Arms, saw old Mat wasn't there—then I went back to the lane—and—old man Newton was dead, and the stranger was gone.'
"There was a moment or two of dead silence in the court when Samuel Holder had given his evidence, then the coroner asked quietly:
"'You do not know who the stranger was?'
"'Well, I couldn't be sure, your honour,' replied Samuel nervously, 'it was pitch dark. I wouldn't like to swear a fellow creature's life and character away.'
"'No, no, quite so,' rejoined the coroner, 'but do you happen to know what time it was when all this occurred?'
"'Oh yes, your honour,' said Samuel decisively, 'as I walked away from the Fernhead Arms I 'eard Ayrsham church clock strike ten o'clock.'
"'Ah! that's always something,' said the coroner, with a sigh of satisfaction. 'Call Mary Newton, please.'"
III.
"You may imagine," continued the man in the corner after a slight pause, "with what palpitating interest we all watched the pathetic little figure, clad in deep black, who now stepped forward to give evidence.
"It was difficult to imagine that Mary Newton could ever have been pretty; trouble had obviously wrought havoc with her good looks. She was now a wizened little thing, with dark rings under her eyes, and a pale anemic complexion. She stood perfectly listlessly before the coroner, waiting to be questioned, but otherwise not seeming to take the slightest interest in the proceedings. In an even, toneless voice she told her name, age, and status, then waited for further questions.
"'Your father went out a little before ten o'clock on Tuesday night last, did he not?' asked the coroner very kindly.
"'Yes, sir, he did,' replied Mary quietly.
"'You had brought him a message from a gentleman whom you had met in the lane, and who wished to speak with your father?'
"'No, sir,' replied Mary, in the same even and toneless voice, 'I brought no message to father, and he went out on his own.'
"'But the gentleman you met in the lane,' insisted the coroner with some impatience.
"'I didn't meet anyone in the lane, sir. I never went out of the house that Tuesday night, it rained so.'
"'But the last witness, Samuel Holder, heard you talking in the lane at nine o'clock.'
