"Sure to be, sir; and I think it's sure to be South Crabb. He was at Pinvin a fortnight ago; for I walked over on the Sunday morning and took him with me. Mark is of a roving turn; he is always talking of wanting to see the world. I don't believe he'll ever settle down to steady work at home." "Well, we want him here, Mr. Ferrar; and must have him too. Could you send after him--and get him here by to-morrow?" "I can send his brother after him, if you say it must be. The likelihood is that he will come home of himself to-morrow evening." "Ay, but we must have him here in the afternoon, you see. We want to hear what he can tell us about the deceased. It is thought that he was the last person with him before the fall. And, gentlemen," added the coroner, turning to the jury, "I will adjourn proceedings to the same hour to-morrow--three o'clock." So the inquest was adjourned accordingly, and the room slowly cleared itself. Very slowly. People stood in groups of threes and fours to talk to each other. This new evidence was startling: and the impression it made was, that one of the Frogs had certainly thrown King down. The green handkerchief was mentioned. Coloured silk pocket-handkerchiefs were much patronized by gentlemen then, and the one used by Dr. Teal that day happened to be green. The doctor said he had missed his handkerchief when they were down at the Abbey before tea, but could not tell where he had left it. He found it in the room at St. Ann's when they got up again, and supposed it had been there all along. So that handkerchief was not much thought of: especially as several of the Frogs had green neckerchiefs on, and might have taken them off, as it was very hot. That a Frog had flung King over, appeared to be, to use the coroner's words on another part of the subject, as plain as a turnpike. The Sankers, one and all, adopted it as conclusive; Captain Sanker in particular was nearly wild, and said bitter things of the Frogs. Poor King still lay in the same room, and none of them, as before, cared to go by the door. It must have been in the middle of the night. Anyway, it looked pitch-dark. I was asleep, and dreaming that we were sorting handkerchiefs: all colours seemed to be there but a green one, and that--the one being looked for--we could not find: when something suddenly woke me. A hand was grasping at my shoulder. "Halloa! who's there?" "I say, Johnny, I can't stop in my bed; I've come to yours. If you mind my getting in, I'll lie across the foot, and get to sleep that way." The voice was Dan's, and it had no end of horror in it. He was standing by the bed in his night-shirt, shivering. And yet the summer's night was hot. "Get in, if you like, Dan: there's plenty of room. What's the matter with your own bed?" "King's there," he said, in a dreadful whisper, as he crept trembling in. "King! Why, what do you mean?"