"As for it's being illegal, I can't see how it can be that, if it's done with my permission. I suppose I can let who I like into my own house. No one's compelled to answer. I'm sure you needn't. You needn't even be questioned if you'd rather not be. As for a house full of criminals, I'm not aware that anyone has suggested that I harbour even one."

But Mrs Plummer was not to be appeased.

"It's all very well for you to say that I needn't be questioned, but if I decline I shall look most conspicuous. Everybody will attribute my refusal to some shameful reason. I dislike the whole affair. I'm sure no good will come of it. But, so far as I'm concerned, I shall answer all their questions without the slightest hesitation."

And she did, with direct negatives, looking Mr Nunn, the detective who had come down specially from London to take the case in charge, straight in the face in a fashion which suggested that she considered his conduct to be in the highest degree impertinent.

Miss Arnott, on the other hand, who proffered herself first, treated the questions lightly, as if they had and could have no application to herself. She said no to everything, denied that she had ever known the dead man, that she had ever seen him, that she had ever heard from, or of, him, that she had any reason to suppose that he was coming to see her, that she had any idea of who he was coming to see, and did it all with an air of careless certainty, as if it must be plain to everyone that the notion of in any way connecting her with him was sheer absurdity.

With the entire household the result was the same. To all the questions each alike said no, some readily enough, some not so readily; but always with sufficient emphasis to make it abundantly clear that the speaker hoped that it was taken for granted that no other answer was even remotely possible.

Thus, to all appearances, that inquiry carried the matter not one hair's breadth further. The explanation of why the dead man had borne those two words--"Exham Park"--about with him was still to seek; since no one could be found who was willing to throw light upon the reasons which had brought him into that part of the world. And as the police, in spite of all their diligence, could produce no further evidence which bore, even remotely, on any part of the business, it looked as if, at anyrate so far as the inquest was concerned, the result would have to be an open verdict. They searched practically the whole country-side for some trace of a weapon with which the deed could have been done; in vain. The coroner had stated that, unless more witnesses were forthcoming, he would have to close the inquiry, and the next meeting of his court would have to be the last, and it was, therefore, with expectations of some such abortive result that, on the appointed day, the villagers crowded into the long room of the "Rose and Crown."

However, the general expectation was not on that occasion destined to be realised. The proceedings were much more lively, and even exciting, than had been antic.i.p.ated. Instead of the merely formal notes which the reporters had expected to be able to furnish to their various journals, they found themselves provided with ample material, not only to prove a strong attraction for their own papers, but also to serve as appetising matter to the press of the entire kingdom, with contents bills for special editions--"The Cooper's Spinney Murder. Extraordinary Developments."

These "extraordinary developments" came just as the proceedings were drawing to a close. Merely formal evidence had been given by the police. The coroner was explaining to the jury that, as nothing fresh was before them, or, in spite of repeated adjournments, seemed likely to be, all that remained was for them to return their verdict. What that verdict ought to be unfortunately there could be no doubt. The dead man had been foully murdered. No other hypothesis could possibly meet the circ.u.mstances of the case. Who had murdered him was another matter. As to that, they were at present able to say nothing. The ident.i.ty of the miscreant was an unknown quant.i.ty. They could point neither in this quarter nor in that. The incidents before them would not permit of it. It seemed probable that the crime had been committed under circ.u.mstances of peculiar atrocity. The murderer had first fired at his victim--actually nearly fifty pellets of lead had been found embedded in the corpse. Then, when the poor wretch had been disabled by the pain and shock of the injuries which had been inflicted on him, his a.s.sailant had taken advantage of his helplessness to stab him literally right through the body.

The coroner had said so much, and seemed disposed to say much more, in accents which were intended to be impressive, and which, in fact, did cause certain of the more easily affected among his auditors to shiver, when a voice exclaimed from the back of the room,--

"That's a d.a.m.ned lie!"

The a.s.sertion, a sufficiently emphatic one in itself, was rendered still more so by the tone of voice in which it was uttered; the speaker was, evidently, not in the least desirous of keeping his opinion to himself. The coroner stopped. Those who were sitting down stood up, those who were already standing turned in the direction from which the voice came.

The coroner inquired, with an air of authority which was meant to convey his righteous indignation,--

"Who said that?"

The speaker did not seem at all abashed. He replied, without a moment's hesitation, still at the top of his voice,--

"I did."

"Who is that man speaking? Bring him here!"

"No one need bring me, and no one hadn't better try. I'm coming, I am; I've got two good legs of my own, and I'm coming as fast as they'll carry me. Now then, get out of the way there. What do you mean by blocking up the floor? It ain't your floor!"

The speaker--as good as his word--was exhibiting in his progress toward the coroner's table a degree of zeal which was not a little inconvenient to whoever chanced to be in his way. Having gained his objective, leaning both hands on the edge of the table he stared at the coroner in a free-and-easy fashion which that official was not slow to resent.

"Take off your cap, sir!"

"All right, governor, all right. Since you've got yours off I don't mind taking mine--just to oblige you."

"Who are you? What's your name?"

"I'm a gamekeeper, that's what I am. And as for my name, everybody knows what my name is. It's Jim Baker, that's what my name is. Is there anybody in this room what don't know Jim Baker? Of course there ain't."

"You're drunk, sir!"

"And that I'm not. If I was drunk I shouldn't be going on like this.

You ask 'em. They know Jim Baker when he's drunk. There isn't many men in this parish as could hold him; it would take three or four of some of them."

"At anyrate, you've been drinking."

"Well, and so would you have been drinking if you'd been going through what I have these last weeks."

"How dare you come to my court in this state? and use such language?"

"Language! what language? I ain't used no language. I said it's a d.a.m.ned lie, and so it is."

"You'll get yourself into serious trouble, my man, if you don't take care. I was saying that, having shot the deceased, the murderer proceeded to stab him through the body. Is that the statement to which you object with such ill-timed vigour?"

The answer was somewhat unlooked for. Stretching half-way across the table, Jim Baker shook his fist at the coroner with an amount of vigour which induced that officer to draw his chair a little further back.

"Don't you call me a murderer!"

"What do you mean, sir, by your extraordinary behaviour? I did not call you a murderer; I said nothing of the kind."

"You said that the man who shot him, stabbed him. I say it's a lie; because he didn't!"

"How do you know? Stop! Before you say another word it's my duty to inform you that if you have any evidence to offer, before you do so you must be duly sworn; and, further, in your present condition it becomes essential that I should warn you to be on your guard, lest you should say something which may show a guilty knowledge."

"And what do you call a guilty knowledge? I ask you that."

"As for instance--"

Mr Baker cut the coroner's explanation uncivilly short.

"I don't want none of your talk. I'm here to speak out, that's what I'm here for. I'm going to do it. When you say that the man as shot him knifed him, I say it's a d.a.m.ned lie. How do I know? Because I'm the man as shot him; and, beyond giving him a dose of pepper, I'm ready to take my Bible oath that I never laid my hand on him."

Mr Baker's words were followed by silence--that sort of silence which the newspapers describe by the word "sensation." People pressed further into the room, craning their heads to get a better view of the speaker.

The coroner searched him with his eyes, as if to make sure that the man was in possession of at least some of his senses.

"Do you know what it is you are saying?"

"Do I know what I'm saying? Of course I know. I say that I peppered the chap, but beyond that I never done him a mischief; and I tell you again that to that I'm ready to take my Bible oath."

The coroner turned to his clerk.

"Swear this man."

Jim Baker was sworn--unwillingly enough. He handled the Testament which was thrust into his hand as if he would have liked to have thrown it at the clerk's head.

"Now, James Baker, you are on your oath. I presume that you know the nature of an oath?"

"I ought to at my time of life."

There were those that t.i.ttered. It was possible that Mr Baker was referring to one kind of oath and the coroner to another.

"And, I take it, you are acquainted with the serious consequences of swearing falsely?"