Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-02-29
CHAPTER XXX.

i luOuSh Tie AOuI was SOIIlHS AoIOs A1O
one among the crowd thought Of leaving
the court. Even the desire for tea, SO
peculiarly insistent at a certain hour Of
| the day in the whole Of the British race.
| was smothered beneath the wave Of in
tense excitement which swept right over
| every one.
| Although the next Worcestershire each
| in their turn came forward to the foot OF
the table-swore to tell the truth and
| faced the coroner with more or less as
surance they could but repeat the asser-
tions of the head Of the family; never
thelesa the public seemed ready to listen
with Mtiring patience to the story which
went to prove that the man whom every
| body believed to be the heir Of one of
the oldest titles and richest rent rolls in
England was the SON of Chaplain brick
| layer q master of audacity and of fraud.
| The mother-a worthy and simple soul
was the first to explain that Paul. her
| only son, had always been something OF
| gentleman. He had done very well at
like is father. When he was fifteen he
| was quite stage-struck Always play
acting as the mother put it. land could
| recite poetry beautiful!
| Mrs Baker seemed distinctly proud Of
| her sons deeply rooted horror of work.
| She thought that all the instincts Of a
gentleman were really in him. When he
was q grown lad he went as footman In a
gentleman's family somewhere IN the mid
| lands. The mother loftily supposed that
| it was there that Paul learned his good
manners.
"He was a perfect gentleman, sir" she
| reiterated, complacently.
| It appeared, too, that the wastrel had
| had period in his career when the call
Of the stage proved quite Irresistible. for
| he seemed to have left the gentleman's
| family in the midlands somewhat abrupt
| ly and walked on as super for time In
the various melodramas produced at the
Grand Theater, Nottingham. whenever a
crowd was required on the stage. There
seems also to have existed q legend in
the heart Of the fond mother and OF the
doting sister that Paul had once really
played big part in a serious play. But
this statement was distinctly wanting in
confederation.
What was obviously an established fact
was that the man had certain spirit of
adventure in him, and that he had been a
regular rolling stone, regular idle, good
for-nothing wastrel, possessing certain
charm of manner which delighted his
family and which was readily mistaken
by the simple folk for that of gentle
man.
They were all called in turn; the sister.
and young Smith from next door, and
the latter's sister. Not one of them
swerved for a moment from the original
SLOry lOlQ Dy jim bdkeT. fIlully anu
young Smith told of the meeting, which
occurred on a fine summers afternoon. be-
tween themselves and Paul By the
strange caprice of wanton coincidence the
| meeting occurred inside Green Park Paul
seemed a little worried. thinking that the
passers- by would see him talking to poor
people like u.s. as Emily Baker had it,
although, she added, proudly, Il 'ad
me new at ON, with the pink roses"
Otherwise he was quite pleasant and not
ut oil Ssrff n ~
The account of this interview was fully
corroborated by young Smith from next
door" Jane Smith, who at one time had
considered herself engaged to Paul Baker,
had q few tender "reminiscences to re-
| count. She had seen the prodigal once
on the boards OF the Queens Theater,
Lewisham and she declared that he
looked "a perfect gentleman
The day. wore on. or rather the COM
mencenent of evening. The evil-smelling
fog from outside had made it's home in
side the dismal room. People there saw
one another only through a misty veil.
the corners Of the room were wrapped in
gloom. Exciting as was the story which
| had been unfolded this afternoon, one or
| two among the audience had given way
| to sleep. Lady Ducies' feathers nodded
ominously and the old dame who had
| munched sandwiches was inclined to give
forth an occasional SnOre.
Louisas eyes were aching. Constant
| watching had tired them; they even
ceased to see clearly. Her brain, too, had
become somnolent. She was tired OF hear
| ing these people talk. From the moment
that Jim Baker had stated that the muir
| dered man was his own son Louisa had
known that he had spoken the truth. In
stinct was guiding her toward the truth,
showing her the truth, wherever possible
She listened at first-deeply interested-to
| the scrappy evidence which told of Paul
| Bakers early life, but the family from
Chaplain Junction road had marvelously
| little to relate. They no more under
stood their adventurous-Spirfted son than
| they would have been capable of aiding
and abetting the fraud which he con-
i cocted.
They themselves were far too simple
| and too stupid to be dangerously GRIM
inal And SO the evidence quickly lost its
| interest for Louisa. She herself with
the fragmentary statements which she
heard. could more easily surmise the life
| history of Paul Baker than could the dot
| ing mother, who retailed complacently
| every mark on the skin and on the body
| Of her son. and knew nothing whatever
less than nothing-of his thoughts, his
schemes, of the evil that was in him and
| the ambition which led to his end.
And now the last Of the Baker con-
| tingent was dismissed. Jane Smith, the
/ sweetheart Of the murdered man, was the
last to leave the coroner's table. She did
so in flood OF tears. In which the others
promptly and incontinently Joined.
The coroner, somewhat impatient with
| them all, for their vague notions on the
most important bearings of the case had
/ severely tried him, adjourned the inquiry
until the morrow.
He ordered the jury to be present at a