Now, it chanced one day that the senior partner of the firm was summoned
to serve on a jury at a coroner's inquest, and Mr Clinton, furnished
with the excuse that Mr Haynes was out of town, was told to go in his
stead. Mr Clinton had never performed that part of a citizen's duties,
for on becoming a householder he had hit upon the expedient of being
summoned for his rates, so that his name should be struck off the
coroner's list; he was very indifferent to the implied dishonour. It was
with some curiosity, therefore, that he repaired to the court on the
morning of the inquest.
The weather was cold and grey, and a drizzling rain was falling. Mr
Clinton did not take a 'bus, since by walking he could put in his pocket
the threepence which he meant to charge the firm for his fare. The
streets were wet and muddy, and people walked close against the houses
to avoid the splash of passing vehicles. Mr Clinton thought of the
jocose solicitor who was in the habit of taking an articled clerk with
him on muddy days, to walk on the outside of the street and protect his
master from the flying mud. The story particularly appealed to Mr
Clinton; that solicitor must have been a fine man of business. As he
walked leisurely along under his umbrella, Mr Clinton looked without
envy upon the city men who drove along in hansoms.
'Some of us,' he said, 'are born great, others achieve greatness. A man
like that'--he pointed with his mind's finger at a passing alderman--'a
man like that can go about in 'is carriage and nobody can say anything
against it. 'E's worked 'imself up from the bottom.'
But when he came down Parliament Street to Westminster Abbey he felt a
different atmosphere, and he was roused to Jeremiac indignation at the
sight, in a passing cab, of a gilded youth in an opera hat, with his
coat buttoned up to hide his dress clothes.
'That's the sort of young feller I can't abide,' said Mr Clinton. 'And
if I was a member of Parliament I'd stop it. That's what comes of 'aving
too much money and nothing to do. If I was a member of the aristocracy
I'd give my sons five years in an accountant's office. There's nothing
like a sound business training for making a man.' He paused in the road
and waved his disengaged hand. 'Now, what should I be if I 'adn't 'ad a
sound business training?'
Mr Clinton arrived at the mortuary, a gay red and white building, which
had been newly erected and consecrated by a duke with much festivity and
rejoicing. Mr Clinton was sworn with the other jurymen, and with them
repaired to see the bodies on which they were to sit. But Mr Clinton was
squeamish.
'I don't like corpses,' he said. 'I object to them on principle.'
He was told he must look at them.
'Very well,' said Mr Clinton. 'You can take a 'orse to the well but you
can't make 'im drink.' When it came to his turn to look through the pane
of glass behind which was the body, he shut his eyes.
'I can't say I'm extra gone on corpses,' he said, as they walked back to
the Court. 'The smell of them ain't what you might call
_eau-de-Cologne_.' The other jurymen laughed. Mr Clinton often said
witty things like that.
'Well, gentlemen,' said the coroner, rubbing his hands, 'we've only got
three cases this morning, so I sha'n't have to keep you long. And they
all seem to be quite simple.'
V
The first was an old man of seventy; he had been a respectable,
hard-working man till two years before, when a paralytic stroke had
rendered one side of him completely powerless. He lost his work. He was
alone in the world--his wife was dead, and his only daughter had not
been heard of for thirty years--and gradually he had spent his little
savings; one by one he sent his belongings to the pawn shop, his pots
and pans, his clothes, his arm-chair, finally his bedstead, then he
died. The doctor said the man was terribly emaciated, his stomach was
shrivelled up for want of food, he could have eaten nothing for two days
before death.... The jury did not trouble to leave the box; the foreman
merely turned round and whispered to them a minute; they all nodded, and
a verdict was returned in accordance with the doctor's evidence!
The next inquiry was upon a child of two. The coroner leant his head
wearily on his hand, such cases were so common! The babe's mother came
forward to give her evidence--a pale little woman, with thin and hollow
cheeks, her eyes red and dim with weeping. She sobbed as she told the
coroner that her husband had left her, and she was obliged to support
herself and two children. She was out of work, and food had been rather
scanty; she had suckled the dead baby as long as she could, but her milk
dried up. Two days before, on waking up in the morning, the child she
held in her arms was cold and dead. The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
Want of food! And the jury returned their verdict, framed in a beautiful
and elaborate sentence, in accordance with the evidence.
The last case was a girl of twenty. She had been found in the Thames; a
bargee told how he saw a confused black mass floating on the water, and
he put a boat-hook in the skirt, tying the body up to the boat while he
called the police, he was so used to such things! In the girl's pocket
was found a pathetic little letter to the coroner, begging his pardon
for the trouble she was causing, saying she had been sent away from her
place, and was starving, and had resolved to put an end to her troubles
by throwing herself in the river. She was pregnant. The medical man
stated that there were signs on the body of very great privation, so the
jury returned a verdict that the deceased had committed suicide whilst
in a state of temporary insanity!
The coroner stretched his arms and blew his nose, and the jury went
their way.
But Mr Clinton stood outside the mortuary door, meditating, and the
coroner's officer remarked that it was a wet day.
'Could I 'ave another look at the bodies?' timidly asked the clerk,
stirring himself out of his contemplation.
The coroner's officer looked at him with surprise, and laughed.
'Yes, if you like.'
Mr Clinton looked through the glass windows at the bodies, and he
carefully examined their faces; he looked at them one after another
slowly, and it seemed as if he could not tear himself away. Finally he
turned round, his face was very pale, and it had quite a strange
expression on it; he felt very sick.
'Thank you!' he said to the coroner's officer, and walked away. But
after a few steps he turned back, touching the man on the arm. 'D'you
'ave many cases like that?' he asked.
'Why, you look quite upset,' said the coroner's officer, with amusement.
'I can see you're not used to such things. You'd better go to the pub.
opposite and 'ave three 'aporth of brandy.'
'They seemed rather painful cases,' said Mr Clinton, in a low voice.
'Oh, it was a slack day to-day. Nothing like what it is usually this
time of year.'
'They all died of starvation--starvation, and nothing else.'
'I suppose they did, more or less,' replied the officer.
'D'you 'ave many cases like that?'
'Starvation cases? Lor' bless you! on a 'eavy day we'll 'ave 'alf a
dozen, easy.'
'Oh!' said Mr Clinton.
'Well, I must be getting on with my work,' said the officer--they were
standing on the doorstep and he looked at the public-house opposite, but
Mr Clinton paid no further attention to him. He began to walk slowly
away citywards.
'Well, you are a rummy old file!' said the coroner's officer.
But presently a mist came before Mr Clinton's eyes, everything seemed
suddenly extraordinary, he had an intense pain and he felt himself
falling. He opened his eyes slowly, and found himself sitting on a
doorstep; a policeman was shaking him, asking what his name was. A woman
standing by was holding his top hat; he noticed that his trousers were
muddy, and mechanically he pulled out his handkerchief and began to wipe
them.
He looked vacantly at the policeman asking questions. The woman asked
him if he was better. He motioned her to give him his hat; he put it
feebly on his head and, staggering to his feet, walked unsteadily away.
The rain drizzled down impassively, and cabs passing swiftly splashed up
the yellow mud....