rather be without ’em. And one with whiskers too! Thank you for nothing, Mr. Carlton!”
The words seemed to strike the coroner, and he made a note in the book before him. When Mrs. Gould’s indignation had subsided, she was again questioned. Her further evidence need not be given, it was only connected with points already discussed, and at its conclusion she was permitted to retire to the next room, where she had a prolonged fit of hysterics.
The coroner requested the presence again of Mr. Carlton. But it was found that Mr. Carlton had gone. This caused a delay in the proceedings. An officer was despatched for him in haste, and found him at his own home, engaged with a patient. He hurried him up to the court.
“What am I required for?” asked Mr. Carlton.
“I can’t say, sir. The coroner said you were to be produced.”
“I thought you had understood, Mr. Carlton, that it is expedient the witnesses should not depart until the inquiry be over,” began the coroner, when he appeared. “Questions sometimes arise which may render it necessary for them to be examined again.”
“I beg your pardon,” replied Mr. Carlton; “I had no idea I was not at liberty to return home; or that I should be wanted further.”
The coroner placed his arms on the table beside him, and leaned towards Mr. Carlton.
“What in this tale,” asked he, “about your having seen a man secreted on the stairs, or landing, on the night of the mur—,” the coroner coughed, to drown the word which had all but escaped his lips—“on the night of the death?”
A scarlet tinge, born of emotion, flushed the face of Mr. Carlton. Were his superstitious feelings going to be hauled out for the benefit of the crowded court?
“Who says I saw one?” inquired he.
“That is not the question,” sharply returned the coroner. “Did you see one?”
“No, I did not.”
“The last witness, Eliza Gould, testifies that you did—or thought you did.”
“The facts are these,” said Mr. Carlton. “As I was leaving the patient, the moonbeams shone on the landing through the staircase window, and for the moment I certainly did think I saw a face—the face of a person leaning against the wall.”
“What sort of a face?” interrupted the coroner. “A man’s or a women’s?”
“Oh, a man’s, decidedly. A pale face, as it appeared to me, with thick black whiskers. I believe now it was my fancy: it was just a momentary glimpse, or rather idea, as was over directly. Moonbeams, it is well known, play the eyesight curious tricks and turns. I fetched the candle and examined the landing, but no person was to be seen. Before I had well got down the stairs, a conviction was stealing over me that I had deceived myself, that there had been really nothing there, but I certainly did ask the woman, Gould, when she came to open the door for me, whether or not any strange man was in the house.”
“She said, No?”
“Yes: and was intensely offended at my putting the question.”
The coroner mused. Turning to the jury, he spoke in a confidential tone.
“You see, gentlemen, had there been really any one concealed upon the stairs, it would be a most suspicious point; one demanding full investigation. That medicine was in the adjoining room, open to the landing, and unprotected by any guard; for the lady in bed could not be supposed to see what took place in the next apartment, and the two women were down-stairs. Nothing more easy than for the cork to be abstracted from the medicine sent by the Messrs. Grey, and a few deadly drops poured into it. Provided, I say, the person so concealed there, had a design to do so.”
The jury looked grave, and one of them addressed Mr. Carlton:
“Can’t you take your mind back, sir, with any degree of certainty?”
“There is quite a sufficient degree of certainty in my mind,” replied Mr. Carlton. “I feel convinced, I feel sure, that the face existed but in my fancy. I had gone out from the light room to the dark landing,—dark, except for the moonbeams—and———”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Carlton,” interrupted another juryman, “but the witnesses, Pepperfly and Gould, have deposed that the lady’s chamber was in darkness—that the candle was in the sitting-room adjoining, where she preferred to have it left.”
“Have they? I almost forget. Then in passing through the sitting-room I must have got my eyes in contact with the light, for I know that the landing appeared dark. You are right,” added Mr. Carlton. “I remember now that the candle was in the sitting-room, for it was from thence I fetched it to search the landing.”
“Why did you not mention this, witness, when you were first examined?” asked the coroner.
“Mention what, sir? That I fancied I saw a face in the dark, which turned out to be all moonshine?” retorted the witness. “Verily, I should be only too glad to mention anything