The inquest might have been concluded at its first sitting, but for the two who stood out against the rest of the jury. Perkins the butcher and Dobbs the blacksmith. Truth to say, these two had plenty of intelligence; which could not be said of all the rest. Ten of the jury pronounced the case to be as clear as daylight: the infants had been poisoned by Abel Crew's pills: and the coroner seemed to agree with them--he hated trouble. But Dobbs and Perkins held out. They were not satisfied, they said; the pills furnished by Abel Crew might not have been the pills that were taken by the children; moreover, they considered that the pills should be "more officially" analyzed. Pettipher the druggist was all very well in his small way, but hardly up, in their opinion, to pronouncing upon pills when a man's life or liberty was at stake. They pressed for an adjournment, that the pills might be examined by some competent authority. The coroner, as good as telling them they were fools to their faces, had adjourned the inquest in suppressed passion to that day week. "And I've got to take care of you, Abel Crew," said old Jones, floundering up on his gouty legs to Abel as the jury and crowd dispersed. "You've got to come along o' me." "To come where?" asked Abel, who was hobbling towards home on his scalded foot, by the help of his stick and the arm of Gibbon the gamekeeper. "To the lock-up," said old Jones. "To the lock-up!" echoed Abel Crew. "In course," returned old Jones. "Where else but the lock-up? Did you think it was to the pound?" Abel Crew, lifting the hand that held his stick to brush a speck of dirt off his handsome velvet coat, turned to the constable; his refined face, a little paler than usual, gazing inquiringly at old Jones's, his silver hair glistening in the setting sun. "I don't understand you, Mr. Jones," he said calmly. "You cannot mean to lock me up?" "Well, I never!" cried old Jones, who had a knack of considering every suspected person guilty, and treating them accordingly. "You have a cheek, you have, Abel Crew! 'Not going to take me to the lock-up, Mr. Jones,' says you! Where would you be took to?" "But there's no necessity for it," said Abel. "I shall not run away. I shall be in my house if I'm wanted again." "I dare say you would!" said old Jones, ironically. "You might or you mightn't, you know. You be as good as committed for the killing and slaying o' them there two twins, and it's my business to see as you _don't_ make your escape aforehand, Abel Crew." Quite a company of us, sauntering out of the inquest-room, were listening by this time. I gave old Jones a bit of my mind. "He is not yet committed, Jones, therefore you have no right to take him or to lock him up."