"I believe I am right in assuming that you are engaged to be married to
Miss Laing, am I not?"
"I was engaged to her," I replied hoarsely.
"Then you are not engaged at the present moment? Why was the match
broken off?"
I hesitated for several moments, trying to devise some means to avoid
answering this abrupt question. The bitter thought of Ella's double
dealing occurred to me, and with foolish disregard for consequences I
resolved not to spare her.
"Because of a confession she made to me," I said.
"A confession! What of?"
"Of unworthiness."
"She acknowledged herself unfaithful to you, I presume?" observed one of
the jurymen who had not before spoken; but to this I made no reply.
"Now, have you any suspicion that any secret affection existed between
her and the deceased?" the Coroner asked, in a dry, distinct voice, that
could be heard all over the room.
"I--I cannot say," I faltered.
The movement among the audience showed the sensation my reply had
caused, and it was increased by Ella suddenly rising from her place and
shrieking hysterically: "That answer is a lie--a foul lie!"
"Silence!" shouted the Coroner, who, above all things, detested a scene
in his Court. "If that lady interrupts again, she must be requested to
leave."
"Have you any further question to ask Mr Deedes?" he inquired, turning
to the jury; but as no one replied, he intimated that the examination
was at an end, and I felt that I had, at last, successfully passed
through the ordeal I had dreaded.
Retiring to a seat, my place as a witness was at once taken by Beck; but
scarcely had I sunk into a chair near where Ella was sitting when I felt
within my hand the object I had taken from among the things found in the
dead man's possession. It had not been missed, and I wondered whether
its loss would ever be detected. To keep it was, I felt, extremely
dangerous; nevertheless I sat holding it in my palm, listening to the
evidence of the well-known member for West Rutlandshire. His story,
related in that loud, bombastic tone that had at first so prejudiced me
against him, was much to the same effect as mine regarding the discovery
of the body, its removal into the house, and the subsequent examination
by the doctor, until there commenced the minute cross-examination.
"How long have you known the deceased?" the Coroner inquired, looking up
suddenly from his notes.
"A few months. About six, I should think," he answered.
"Have you any suspicion that he had an enemy?"
"No. He was about the last man in the world who would arouse the hatred
of anybody. In fact, he was exceedingly popular."
"You say you have been a frequent visitor at Mrs Laing's. Now, from
your own observations, have you seen anything that would lead you to the
belief that he loved Miss Laing?"
"Nothing whatever," he replied. "Ella was engaged to Mr Deedes, and
although she was on the river a great deal with Ogle, I am confident she
never for a moment regarded him as her lover."
"Why are you so confident?"
"Because of certain facts she has confided in me."
"What are they?"
He was silent. Evidently he had no intention of being led on in this
manner, but, even finding himself cornered, his imperturbable coolness
never deserted him, for he calmly replied, with a faint smile,--
"I refuse to answer."
"Kindly reply to my question, sir, and do not waste the time of the
Court," exclaimed the Coroner, with impatience. "What were these
facts?"
Again he was silent, twisting his gloves around his fingers uneasily.
"Come, answer if you please."
"Well," he replied, after considerable hesitation, "briefly, she gave me
to understand that she loved Deedes, and had refused to listen to the
deceased's declaration of affection."
"How came she to confide this secret of hers to you?" the Coroner asked
eagerly.
Through my memory at that moment there flashed the scene I had witnessed
in secret in the garden on that memorable night when I had detected this
man with his arm around Ella's waist, and I looked on in triumph at his
embarrassment.
"I am a friend of the family," he answered, with a calm, irritating
smile a moment later. "She has told me many of her secrets."
I knew from the expression upon his face that he lied. Was it not far
more likely that on that night when I had discovered them he was
uttering words of affection to her, and she, in return, had confessed
that she loved me?
"Are you aware whether Mr Deedes had any knowledge that the deceased was
his rival for Miss Laing's hand?" inquired the Coroner, adding,
self-apologetically, "I much regret being compelled to ask these
questions, for I am aware how painful it must be to the family."
"I believe he was utterly ignorant of it," Beck replied. "He regarded
Mr Ogle as his closest friend."
"A false one, to say the least," Dr Diplock observed in tones just
audible. Beck shrugged his shoulders, but did not reply.
The inquisitive foreman of the jury then commenced a series of clumsy,
impertinent questions, many of which the witness cleverly evaded. He
resented this man's cross-examination just as I had done, and during the
quarter of an hour's fencing with the tradesman no noteworthy fact was
elicited. The Coroner, seeing this, suddenly put an end to the
foreman's pertinacious efforts to draw from the Member of Parliament
further facts regarding home life at "The Nook," and called Dr Allenby.
The doctor, who had apparently had long experience of inquests, took the
oath in a business-like manner, and related the facts within his
knowledge clearly and succinctly, describing how I had summoned him, his
visit to "The Nook," and the appearance of the dead man.
"Have you made a _post-mortem_?" the Coroner asked, without looking up
from the notes he was making.
"I made an examination yesterday, in conjunction with Dr Engall. We
found no trace of disease, with the exception of a slight lung trouble
of recent date."
"Was it sufficient to cause death?"
"Certainly not; neither was the bruise upon the forehead, which had, no
doubt, been caused by the fall upon the gravel. The heart was perfectly
normal, and we failed utterly to detect anything that would result
fatally. The contents of the stomach have been analysed by Dr Adams, of
the Home Office, at the instigation of the police, I believe."
"Then, as far as you are concerned, you are unable to determine the
cause of death?"
"Quite. It is a mystery."
The next witness was a thin, white-haired, dapper little man, who, in
reply to questions, explained that he was analyst to the Home Office,
and had, at the request of the police, submitted the contents of the
deceased's stomach to analysis, the position of the hands pointing to a
slight suspicion of poison.
"And what have you discovered?" inquired the Coroner, the Court being so
silent that the proverbial pin, if it had been dropped at that moment,
might have been heard.
"Nothing," he answered clearly. "There was no sign of anything of a
deleterious nature whatsoever. The deceased was certainly not
poisoned."
The assembly of excited townspeople again shifted uneasily, as it was
wont to do after every important reply which might elucidate the
mystery. It seemed as though a rumour had been circulated that Dudley
had been poisoned, and this declaration of the renowned analyst set at
rest for ever that wild, unfounded report. People turned to one
another, whispering excitedly, and a shadow of disappointment rested
upon their inquisitive countenances. They had expected it to be
pronounced a case of murder, whereas it would now be proved that death
had occurred from some natural but sudden and unknown cause.
"Then you have no opinion to offer as to the cause of death!" the
Coroner exclaimed.
"None whatever," was the reply, and that concluded the analyst's
important testimony.
The foreman of the jury expressed a wish to put a question to Ella, and
a few moments later she stood where I had stood, and removing her glove,
took the oath with trembling voice.
"Have you any reason to suppose, Miss Laing, that Mr Ogle's declaration
of love to you had aroused the enmity of Mr Deedes?" asked the man,
seriously.
"No," she answered in a tone so low that I could scarcely distinguish
the word.
"Mr Deedes was your lover, wasn't he?"
"I am still engaged to him," she replied, tears welling in her eyes.
"He tells a falsehood when he says that our love is at an end."
"Then why did you not tell him of Mr Ogle's declaration?"
"Because they were friends, and I did not wish to arouse animosity
between them."
Slight applause followed this reply, but it was instantly suppressed.
The Coroner, to bring matters to a conclusion, asked, "Now, knowing Mr
Ogle as intimately as you did, do you suspect that he might have been
murdered?"
She gasped, swayed slowly forward and gripped the corner of the
baize-covered table to steady herself.
"Yes," she answered in a clear but tremulous voice. "I--I believe he
was murdered."
A thrill of excitement and wonder ran through the onlookers. Her
handsome face was ashen pale, and her breast, beneath her blouse of
cool-looking muslin, rose and fell quickly, showing how intense was her
agitation.
"And what causes you to believe this?" asked the Coroner, raising his
brows in interrogation.
"I have suspicions," she answered in a low voice, striving to remain
calm, and glancing quickly around the silent assembly.
"You suspect some person of having been guilty of murder?" he asked,
interested.
"Not exactly that," she said quickly. "That Mr Ogle was murdered I feel
confident, but who committed the crime I am unaware. It is a mystery.
Knowing Mr Ogle so well as I did, he entrusted to me knowledge of
certain facts that he strenuously kept secret from others. Yet I cannot
conceive who would profit by his death."
At this point the inspector of police rose and expressed a desire to
know, through the Coroner, whether she had quarrelled with Mr Ogle.
"The day prior to his death we had a few words," she faltered.
"Upon what subject?" asked the Coroner.
She at first refused to reply, but after being pressed, said, "We
quarrelled about my engagement to Mr Deedes."
So she acknowledged with her own lips that the dead man had been my
bitter enemy, as I, too late, had discovered.
"He wished you to marry him?" suggested the Coroner. She did not
answer, but burst into a fit of hysterical tears, and a few moments
later was led out of the Court.
"I think, gentlemen," the Coroner observed, turning to the jury, "no end
can be obtained in pursuing this very painful inquiry further. You have
heard the evidence, and while on the one hand the exact cause of death
has not been established, on the other we have Miss Laing declaring that
the unfortunate gentleman was murdered. The evidence certainly does not
point to such a conclusion, and there are two courses that may be
pursued; either to adjourn the inquiry, or to return an open verdict and
leave the elucidation of the mystery in the hands of the police."
The jury, after consulting among themselves, retired, but only for five
minutes, coming back into court and returning an open verdict of "Found
dead."
Then, as the Coroner thanked the twelve tradesmen for their attendance,
I rose and crossed to Beck, afterwards walking with him to "The Nook."