Peacock. We might take as much on a Sunday night. Coroner (with grim facetiousness, reflecting that this is how his servants make such an impression on the butcher’s bill). Oh, I see, on Sunday night you eat a little extra. The better the day the better the deed. Then, as you are in the habit of sitting an hour and a half at your supper, you conclude that the stranger was with Mr. Harefield as long as that. Peacock. I should say about that time. Coroner. How often did you see Mr. Harefield after the stranger left? Peacock. I went into the room twice--once with some fresh logs, once with coals. Coroner. Did you observe anything peculiar in your master’s manner? Peacock. No, sir. When I went in the first time he was sitting before the fire, a little moody-like, staring straight before him; but he was moody in his ways most times. When I went in with the coals, he was sitting there still--like a statue. I asked him if there was anything more wanted, and he said, ‘No, Peacock, nothing more.’ That was his general reply. I couldn’t see any difference in his voice or manner. Coroner. Were you with Miss Harefield this morning when she discovered her father’s death? Peacock. I was just outside the door when she went in and found him lying dead upon the sofa. Coroner. In which room was he found? Peacock. In Mrs. Harefield’s sitting-room. It hadn’t entered into my head--or into the housekeeper’s head--to look for him in that room, for the room was never used. Mr. Harefield kept the key, and it was kept locked at all times, like a tomb. Coroner. Who suggested looking into that room? Peacock. Miss Harefield. ‘Let us go into every room in the house,’ she said, ‘my mother’s rooms first of all.’ Coroner. Did she give any reason for making that suggestion? Peacock. Yes--she named her reason. The strange gentleman was an old friend of her mother’s, Miss Harefield thought, and that might have set her father thinking of old times, and carried his thoughts back to his wife’s rooms. That is what I understood her to mean. Coroner. Then Miss Harefield led the way to the room in which her father was found? Peacock. She did. Coroner. And he was quite dead when you found him? Peacock. Quite dead. When Mr. Namby saw my master he said he must have been dead some hours. He was stone cold--icy cold. Mr. Namby said icy coldness of the body was one of the signs of poisoning by opium. Coroner. You need not tell us what Mr. Namby said. Mr. Namby has told us his opinion. Have you any knowledge of your master taking opium, for any purpose whatever? Peacock. I have never known him to do such a thing. Coroner. What! not an occasional dose to deaden pain? Peacock. I have never heard him complain of pain. Coroner. But have you never had cause to suspect him of taking opium? He was a man of reserved and lonely habits. Have you never seen him in a stupefied, dreamy state, such as you may have heard of or read of as peculiar to opium eaters? Peacock. Never.