The formula of the oath fell upon my ears in a dull monotone, as
mechanically I raised the Bible to my lips, afterwards replying to the
Coroner's formal questions regarding my name, address and occupation.
The discovery I had made filled me with fierce, bitter hatred against my
dead companion, and, dazed by the startling suddenness of the
revelation, I stood like a man in a dream.
Dr Diplock, the Coroner, noticed it, and his sharp injunction to answer
his question brought me back to a knowledge of my surroundings. I was
standing in full view of an assembly of some three hundred persons, so
filled by curiosity, and eager to hear my story, that the silence was
complete.
"I beg your pardon, but I did not hear the question," I said, bracing
myself with effort.
"The deceased was your friend, I believe?"
"Yes," I answered. "He shared a furnished cottage with me at
Shepperton. I have known him for some time."
"Were you with him at the day of his death?"
"I left him at Shepperton in the morning, when I went to town, and he
called upon me at the Foreign Office about one o'clock. We lunched
together, and then, returning to Downing Street, parted. We met again
at Shepperton later, and came here, to Staines, in response to an
invitation to dinner at `The Nook.' I--"
A woman's low, despairing cry broke the silence, and as I turned to the
assembly I saw, straight before me, Ella, rigid, almost statuesque. Her
terror-stricken gaze met mine; her eyes seemed riveted upon me.
"Kindly proceed with your evidence," exclaimed the Coroner, impatiently.
"We dined at `The Nook,'" I went on, turning again to face him. "Then
we went for a row, and on our return Mr Ogle left us to walk back to
Shepperton."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not accompany him?"
"Because I had, during the evening, received a telegram summoning me
away."
"Who was the message from?"
"The Earl of Warnham," I replied. Then obeying his request to continue,
I explained how, on leaving "The Nook" about an hour later to catch my
last train, I had stumbled upon the body of my friend.
Then, when I had concluded, the Coroner commenced his cross-examination.
Many of his questions were purely formal in character, but presently,
when he began to take me through the events which occurred at the
Foreign Office, I experienced a very uncomfortable feeling, fearing lest
I should divulge the suspicions that had during the last half-hour been
aroused within me. It was, I recognised, absolutely necessary that I
should keep my discovery a strict secret, for upon my ability to do so
everything depended.
"Was there any reason why he should call for you at the Foreign Office
and ask you to lunch with him? Was he in the habit of doing this?"
inquired the Coroner.
"No; there seemed no reason, beyond the fact that he was compelled to
come to town, and merely wanted to pass an idle hour away," I said.
"Why did he go to London?"
"I have no idea what business took him there."
"He never told you that he had any enemy, I suppose?" the official
asked, with an air of mystery.
"Never. He was, on the contrary, most popular."
"And no incident other than what you have related occurred at the
Foreign Office? You are quite certain of this?"
For a moment I hesitated, half inclined to relate the whole story of the
mysterious theft of the secret convention; but risking perjury rather
than an exposure of facts that I saw must remain hidden, I answered as
calmly as I could,--
"No other incident occurred."
"Have you any reason to suspect that he was a victim of foul play?" the
Coroner continued, looking at me rather suspiciously, I thought.
At that moment I glanced at Ella, and was astounded to see how intensely
excited she appeared, with her white face upturned, her mouth half open,
her eyes staring, eagerly drinking in every word that fell from my lips.
Her whole attitude was of one who dreaded that some terrible truth
might be brought to light.
"I have no reason to suspect he was murdered," I answered in a low tone,
and as I surreptitiously watched the face of the woman I loved I saw an
instant transformation. Her breast heaved with a heavy sigh of relief
as across her countenance there passed a look of satisfaction she was
unable to disguise. She was in deadly fear of something, the nature of
which I could not conjecture.
"You have no suspicion whatever that the deceased had an enemy?" asked
the foreman of the jury, who had the appearance of a local butcher.
"None whatever," I answered.
"I frequently saw Mr Ogle on the river of an afternoon with Miss Laing,"
the man observed. "Was there, as far as you are aware, any affection
between them?"
Glancing at Ella, I saw she had turned even paler than before, and was
trembling. The question nonplussed me. In my heart I strongly
suspected that some attachment existed between them; but resenting this
impertinent question from a man who struck me as a local busybody, I
made a negative reply.
"Then jealousy, it would appear, was not the cause of the crime," the
foreman observed to his fellow-jurymen.
The Coroner, however, quickly corrected him, pointing out that they had
not yet ascertained whether death had, or had not, been due to natural
causes.