ing of this inquest, the case is one of great simplicity. You will have no difficulty in deciding that the deceased came to his death by accident—as to the exact wording of your verdict, you had better put it in this way:—that the deceased Bassett Oliver died as the result———"
Petherton, who, noticing the coroner's deafness, had contrived to seat himself as close to his chair of office as possible, quietly rose.
"Before the jury consider any verdict," he said in his loudest tones, "they must hear certain evidence which I wish to call. And first of all—is Mr. Marston Greyle present in this room?"
The coroner frowned, and the Squire's solicitor turned to Petherton.
"Mr. Greyle is not present," he said. "He is not at all well. There is no need for his presence—he has no evidence to give."
"If you don't have Mr. Greyle down here at once," said Petherton, quietly, "this inquest will have to be adjourned for his attendance. You had better send for him—or I'll get the authorities to do so. In the meantime, we'll call one or two witnesses,—Daniel Ewbank!—to begin with."
There was a brief and evidently anxious consultation between Greyle's solicitor and the coroner; there were dark looks at Petherton and his companions. Then the foreman of the jury spoke, sullenly.
"We don't want to hear no Ewbanks!" he said. "We're quite satisfied, us as sits here. Our verdict is———"
