"Maybe," he answered. "I've no great faith in inquests myself. But sometimes things do come out. And our coroner, Seagrave, is a painstaking and thorough-going sort of old chap--the leading solicitor in the town too. But it all depends on what evidence can be brought forward. I've always an uneasy feeling, as regards a coroner's inquiry, that the very people who really could tell something never come forward." "Doesn't that look as if such people were keeping something back that would incriminate themselves?" suggested Brent. "Not necessarily," replied Tansley. "But it often means that it might incriminate others. And in an old town like this, where the folk are very clannish and closely connected one with another by, literally, centuries of intermarriage between families, you're not going to get one man to give another away." "You think that even if the murderer is known, or if some one suspected, he would be shielded?" asked Brent. "In certain eventualities, yes," answered Tansley. "We all know that rumours about your cousin's murder are afloat in the town now--and spreading. Well, the more they spread, the closer and more secretive will those people become who are in the know; that is, of course, if anybody is in the know. That's a fact!" "What do you think yourself?" said Brent suddenly. "Come now?" "I think the Mayor was got rid of--and very cleverly," replied Tansley. "So cleverly that I'm doubtful if to-morrow's inquest will reveal anything. However, it's got to be held." "Well, you'll watch it for me?" said Brent. "I'm going to spare no expense and no pains to get at the truth." He sat at Tansley's side when the inquest was opened next morning in the principal court of the old Moot Hall. It struck him as rather a curious fact that, although he had followed the profession of journalist for several years, he had never until then been present at the holding of this--one of the most ancient forms of inquiry known to English law. But he was familiar with the history of the thing--he knew that ever since the days of Edward IV the Coroner had held his sitting, _super visum corporis_, with the aid of at least twelve jurymen, _probi et legales homines_, there was scarcely in all the range of English legal economy an office more ancient. He inspected the Coroner and his jury with curious interest--Seagrave, Coroner of the Honour of Hathelsborough, was a keen-faced old lawyer, whose astute looks were relieved by a kindly expression; his twelve good men and true were tradesmen of the town, whose exterior promised a variety of character and temperament, from the sharply alert to the dully unimaginative.