“Is this the inquest?—I came here by myself,” he went on; “I was in the
shops. I know Mr. Calthorpe persuaded me not to come. Then I changed my
mind. I thought I’d like to hear for myself. Will some one take me to a
place?”
They were amazed at his feat of travelling unescorted from the shops
where he worked, to the heart of the village, and mysteriously this
achievement increased their fear of him, enriching it with a bar of
superstition. Calthorpe led him to a central chair, near the coroner, so
that he stood in the middle of the room, with his hand on the back of
the chair. He would not sit.
“This is very irregular,” said the coroner, “I know of no precedent for
this, but of course there is no reason why Dene should not attend the
rest of the inquest if he wishes. There will be no need for me to call
him as a witness now; he attends as a spectator only. Dene, your
affidavit was read earlier in the proceedings.”
“I want to speak,” said Silas.
“If there is anything you want to say, Dene....”
Silas stood erect at his full height, ignoring the chair to which he had
been led; he had on his most truculent expression. Calthorpe was
dismayed, but knew his own impotence. There was a natural force in Silas
that was not to be thwarted. He made other men seem puny; only his
brother Gregory matched him, and Gregory was not there.
“I’d like to hear the verdict returned first, if you’ve reached it,”
said Silas.