The smouldering remnants of the Three Tranters Inn seemed to promise
that, even when the searchers should light upon the remains of the
unfortunate Mrs. Manston, very little would be discoverable.
Consisting so largely of the charcoal and ashes of hard dry oak and
chestnut, intermingled with thatch, the interior of the heap was one
glowing mass of embers, which, on being stirred about, emitted sparks
and flame long after it was dead and black on the outside. It was
persistently hoped, however, that some traces of the body would survive
the effect of the hot coals, and after a search pursued uninterruptedly
for thirty hours, under the direction of Manston himself, enough was
found to set at rest any doubts of her fate.
The melancholy gleanings consisted of her watch, bunch of keys, a few
coins, and two charred and blackened bones.
Two days later the official inquiry into the cause of her death was held
at the Rising Sun Inn, before Mr. Floy, the coroner, and a jury of the
chief inhabitants of the district. The little tavern--the only remaining
one in the village--was crowded to excess by the neighbouring peasantry
as well as their richer employers: all who could by any possibility
obtain an hour’s release from their duties being present as listeners.
The jury viewed the sad and infinitesimal remains, which were folded in
a white cambric cloth, and laid in the middle of a well-finished coffin
lined with white silk (by Manston’s order), which stood in an adjoining
room, the bulk of the coffin being completely filled in with carefully
arranged flowers and evergreens--also the steward’s own doing.
Abraham Brown, of Hoxton, London--an old white-headed man, without the
ruddiness which makes white hairs so pleasing--was sworn, and deposed
that he kept a lodging-house at an address he named. On a Saturday
evening less than a month before the fire, a lady came to him, with very
little luggage, and took the front room on the second floor. He did not
inquire where she came from, as she paid a week in advance, but she gave
her name as Mrs. Manston, referring him, if he wished for any guarantee
of her respectability, to Mr. Manston, Knapwater Park. Here she lived
for three weeks, rarely going out. She slept away from her lodgings one
night during the time. At the end of that time, on the twenty-eighth of
November, she left his house in a four-wheeled cab, about twelve o’clock
in the day, telling the driver to take her to the Waterloo Station. She
paid all her lodging expenses, and not having given notice the full week
previous to her going away, offered to pay for the next, but he only
took half. She wore a thick black veil, and grey waterproof cloak, when
she left him, and her luggage was two boxes, one of plain deal, with
black japanned clamps, the other sewn up in canvas.
Joseph Chinney, porter at the Carriford Road Station, deposed that he
saw Mrs. Manston, dressed as the last witness had described, get out
of a second-class carriage on the night of the twenty-eighth. She stood
beside him whilst her luggage was taken from the van. The luggage,
consisting of the clamped deal box and another covered with canvas, was
placed in the cloak-room. She seemed at a loss at finding nobody there
to meet her. She asked him for some person to accompany her, and carry
her bag to Mr. Manston’s house, Knapwater Park. He was just off duty
at that time, and offered to go himself. The witness here repeated
the conversation he had had with Mrs. Manston during their walk, and
testified to having left her at the door of the Three Tranters Inn, Mr.
Manston’s house being closed.
Next, Farmer Springrove was called. A murmur of surprise and
commiseration passed round the crowded room when he stepped forward.
The events of the few preceding days had so worked upon his nervously
thoughtful nature that the blue orbits of his eyes, and the mere spot of
scarlet to which the ruddiness of his cheeks had contracted, seemed the
result of a heavy sickness. A perfect silence pervaded the assembly when
he spoke.
His statement was that he received Mrs. Manston at the threshold, and
asked her to enter the parlour. She would not do so, and stood in the
passage whilst the maid went upstairs to see that the room was in order.
The maid came down to the middle landing of the staircase, when Mrs.
Manston followed her up to the room. He did not speak ten words with her
altogether.
Afterwards, whilst he was standing at the door listening for his son
Edward’s return, he saw her light extinguished, having first caught
sight of her shadow moving about the room.
THE CORONER: ‘Did her shadow appear to be that of a woman undressing?’
SPRINGROVE: ‘I cannot say, as I didn’t take particular notice. It moved
backwards and forwards; she might have been undressing or merely pacing
up and down the room.’
Mrs. Fitler, the ostler’s wife and chambermaid, said that she preceded
Mrs. Manston into the room, put down the candle, and went out. Mrs.
Manston scarcely spoke to her, except to ask her to bring a little
brandy. Witness went and fetched it from the bar, brought it up, and put
it on the dressing-table.
THE CORONER: ‘Had Mrs. Manston begun to undress, when you came back?’
‘No, sir; she was sitting on the bed, with everything on, as when she
came in.’
‘Did she begin to undress before you left?’
‘Not exactly before I had left; but when I had closed the door, and was
on the landing I heard her boot drop on the floor, as it does sometimes
when pulled off?’
‘Had her face appeared worn and sleepy?’
‘I cannot say as her bonnet and veil were still on when I left, for she
seemed rather shy and ashamed to be seen at the Three Tranters at all.’
‘And did you hear or see any more of her?’
‘No more, sir.’
Mrs. Crickett, temporary servant to Mr. Manston, said that in accordance
with Mr. Manston’s orders, everything had been made comfortable in the
house for Mrs. Manston’s expected return on Monday night. Mr. Manston
told her that himself and Mrs. Manston would be home late, not till
between eleven and twelve o’clock, and that supper was to be ready. Not
expecting Mrs. Manston so early, she had gone out on a very important
errand to Mrs. Leat the postmistress.
Mr. Manston deposed that in looking down the columns of Bradshaw he
had mistaken the time of the train’s arrival, and hence was not at the
station when she came. The broken watch produced was his wife’s--he knew
it by a scratch on the inner plate, and by other signs. The bunch of
keys belonged to her: two of them fitted the locks of her two boxes.
Mr. Flooks, agent to Lord Claydonfield at Chettlewood, said that Mr.
Manston had pleaded as his excuse for leaving him rather early in the
evening after their day’s business had been settled, that he was going
to meet his wife at Carriford Road Station, where she was coming by the
last train that night.
The surgeon said that the remains were those of a human being. The small
fragment seemed a portion of one of the lumbar vertebrae--the other
the head of the os femoris--but they were both so far gone that it was
impossible to say definitely whether they belonged to the body of a male
or female. There was no moral doubt that they were a woman’s. He did
not believe that death resulted from burning by fire. He thought she was
crushed by the fall of the west gable, which being of wood, as well as
the floor, burnt after it had fallen, and consumed the body with it.
Two or three additional witnesses gave unimportant testimony.
The coroner summed up, and the jury without hesitation found that the
deceased Mrs. Manston came by her death accidentally through the burning
of the Three Tranters Inn.