“Not he, my lord mayor,” was the reply of the witness. “I wish he had, that I might have been down upon him, the monkey! But I be upon my oath, and must speak the truth, which is that the bottle came neat and untouched, the white paper round it, just as the Greys send out their physics.”
They had done with Mrs. Pepperfly for the present, and she made a curtsy to the four sides of the room, and sailed out of it.
The next Witness called was Lewis Carlton. His gentlemanly appearance, good looks, and the ready manner in which he gave his evidence, presented a contrast to the lady just retired.
“Upon my returning home from a journey last Sunday night,” he began, when the coroner desired him to state what he knew, “one of my servants handed me a note, which had been left for me, he said, on the previous Friday. It proved to be from a Mrs. Crane, requesting to see me professionally, and was dated from the house in Palace Street, where she now lies dead. I went there at once, found that she had been confined, and was being attended by Mr. Stephen Grey, who had been called to her in consequence of my absence———”
The coroner interposed with a question:
“Have you that note to produce?”
Now the witness had not that note to produce, and, what was somewhat singular, he did not know for certain what had become of the note. When he was going to visit Mrs. Crane on the Sunday night, he looked for the note, as may be remembered, and could not see it; therefore he came to the conclusion that he had thrown it into the fire with the other letters.
“I really do not think I saved it,” he answered. “It is not my custom to keep notes of that sort, and, though I do not positively recollect doing so, I have no doubt I put it in the fire as soon as read. There was nothing in it that would have thrown light upon the case; half-a-dozen formal lines, chiefly requesting me to call and see her, comprised it.”
“Was it signed with her full name?”
“Her full name?” repeated Mr. Carlton, as if he scarcely understood the question.
“We have no clue to her Christian name. This note may have supplied it. Or perhaps it was written in the third person.”
“Oh, of course; I scarcely comprehended you,” answered Mr. Carlton. “It was written in the third person. ‘Mrs. Crane presents her compliments to Mr. Carlton,’ &c. That’s how it was worded. I gathered from it that she did not expect to be ill before May.”
“In your interview with her that evening did you obtain any information as to who she was?”
“Not the slightest. It was late, and I thought it unwise to disturb her; what little passed between us related chiefly to her state of health. I regretted my absence, and said I was glad to find she was doing well, under Mr. Stephen Grey. She wished me to attend her, now I had returned, and I understood her to say she had been recommended to me by friends, previous to her coming to South Wennock.”
“Do you know by whom?”
“I have no idea whatever, and I am not absolutely certain that she did say it. She appeared drowsy, spoke in a low tone, and I did not precisely catch the words. I intended to ask her about it after she got better and was more equal to conversation. There are none of my own friends or acquaintance who hear the name of Crane—none that I can remember.”
“Did you take charge of her from that hour?”
“Certainly not. I should not do so, without her being professionally resigned to me by Mr. Stephen Grey. I met Mr. Stephen in High Street the following day, Monday, and I requested him as a favour to retain charge of her until that evening or the following morning. I found so much to do for my patients after my short absence, that I had not time to meet him, before that, at Mrs. Crane’s. It was arranged that I should be there at seven in the evening, if I were able; if not, at ten the next morning.”
“Did you keep the appointment at seven?”
“No, I could not. I did get down, but it was more than an hour later, and Mr. Stephen had gone. Mrs. Crane appeared to be very well, except that she was a little heated; she was in very good spirits, and I told her I should take formal possession of her the next morning at ten. She seemed to think I might have done so that day, and I explained to her how I had been driven with my patients. I inquired if she was not satisfied with Stephen Grey, but she expressed herself as being perfectly satisfied with him, and said he had been very kind to her.”
“Did you inquire of her then by whom she was recommended to you?”
“I did not. She seemed restless, a little excited; therefore I put no questions to her of any sort, save as regarded her health.”
“Did the draught come while you were there?”
“Yes. Whilst I was talking with Mrs. Crane, I heard a ring at the front bell, and some one came up the stairs, and entered the sitting-room. I thought it might be Mr. Stephen Grey, and stepped there to see, but it was the nurse. She had a small bottle of