The Slaithwaite Guardian and Colne Valley News. — 1904-08-19 (Slaithwaite, West Yorkshire, England)

CHAPTER V.—" CROWNER'S QUEST." George Malden, in his character of the dead man's nephew, had taken up his residence at "The Lac ehes," by which name Doctor Bathurst's pretty cottage wee known. Finding that the doctor's cookhcusekeeper was an elderly woman, beyond the breath of rust.c scandal, and possessing the additional advantage of 'havingheen engaged since Cyrirs boy:sh visit to his uncle, he had retained her tar. Vices.  On the morning after the dinner at the Priory he was cn the po:nt of starting out on his round when this woman came to him and announced that as policeman vra, at the back-door, a-king for him. At first George's mind reverted to the scene of the previous night; and he went to speak to Durke, fully expecting to find that Vipan had repented of his leniency, and that he would be served with a summons.  Though Durke's insolent manner confirmed this view, he was quickly undeceived by the constable s first worcht  "The hinquest is at noon. at the Swan; you'll be wanted," said Durke, without any attempt at a wilute or relaxing his lounging attitude against 'ha loor-posk . . . . . . . .  " filar!. of course. intended to be presimt, though I fear I cannot throw any light on the matter," said George, "It is a good many years since I saw my uncle. Is it proposed to call me as a witness to identity? If so my evidence will be worse than useless."  --"'-:l'hat's as may be; anyway I have the coroner's authority to b:d you attend," said the policeman, darkly. And he lurched away. "I don't think they want you to swear to poor old master, sir," said Mrs. Webb, the housekeeper, who had been hovering near. "Me and Jane, the parlourmaid, have been warned as well be required for that, and however we are to get through with it, him having been buried--" "Oh. it will be a pure formality—won't take a second," said George, cutting short the gruesome details. and he went out to his patients rather relieved than otherwise by the reason for Durko's call. Ho was pleased, too, to find that he had himself well in hand, and that he had been able to curb a natural desire to give Durke a bit of his mind on his demeanour.  "I'll get sq;uare on the beggar with a blue pill tin first time he consults me," he thought, as he turned into the street. "I wonder if a man with that bull neck and brutal jowl would have been as tender to Vipan last night as he was if he hadn't been dealing with a millionaire." Even at that early hour—it was only ten o'clock— there were signs that the inquest, which George in his pre-occupation had regarded Imply as a bore. not deeply affecting the purpose that had brought him to Monk's Hadley, was creating a stir in the village. Groups of men in their Sunday clothes lounged about, talking in important whispers. These were the jurymen rejoicing in a "day off" from the plough end the shop counter. At the Swan women' country carte were drawing up, enggestive of the intereet taken in the o'd practitioner by his patients in neighbouring parishes. George Malden walked on briskly. and having no Pelona cases to see get over his round by half-poet eleven, finishing at a cottage not far from the Priory. He was turning him eteps towards the village again when he almost ran aeainst Sir Henry fielwood and Irene coming out of their gates. They both shook hands with him, but George thought that he noticed a light coolness in the manner of the distinguished judge. "You have an umplemuant task before you." said Sir Henry, as the three turned up the road to. gather. "AK. you mean the inquest." replied George, somewhat more lightly than the remark would have demanded from the real Cyril Bathurst. 'Yes, it is a bit of a nuieance certainly." "Have you formed any theory as to how your uncle came to be poisoned?" Sir Henry asked, gravely.. Now as a matter of fact George had not greatly troubled his head with the details of an event which he merely looked upon as a means to his own ends. But he saw now, a little too late perhaps, that he must at least pretend to a decent interest in his supposed unele's death if he was to be true to his assumed personality. So it was with a greater show ' of sympathy that he answered: ! "It seems to me to rest between death by mil! adventure and suicide ; the former more likely. The ! poor old man may have been tired with his day's ! work and have taken the nreing drug in error."  The judge heard the explana in silence. but Irene accepted it with enthusiasm. "That must he it!" she cried. "We hare known dear old Doctor Bathurst too long to bplioye that he wculd put an end to a life thnt he thorcughly enjoyesl in his own way." . .  Tho subject dropped, and they walked on, chatting on trifles, theugh George was half inclined to descrihr the scone betviren himself and Vipan on the previous night. Reflection stirred him, however, that he cou'd not do that without divulging the attempted bribe by Vipan that led up to it, tied a sense of delicacy forbade mention of his new enemy's desire to et him out of the wiy. Not for world% Named Is, hnek Irene's fresh young innocence by enabling, her to trace the catered to the jealousy which he W 3 convinced was its true