Daniel Prosser Hind, forty-nine, was a licensed victualler and the lessee of the Pound House. The owners were Messrs Astill of North Bromwich. He knew the deceased: couldn’t say that they were friends, as deceased had only lately come to Mainstone. He remembered last night. The bar was middling full. He himself was in the parlour working over accounts, his daughter being in charge of the bar. About nine-thirty he heard a row and ran into the bar. The first thing he saw was Mr Badger on the floor and young Fellows on the top of him. Behind them he saw Bastard lying on his back, with blood coming from his ears and nose. Some one said Bastard was stunned. He felt Bastard’s heart and said: ‘No, he’s dead.’ He did not see deceased fall. He was told. . . . He quite understood and begged his worship’s pardon. If he might say so, nothing of this kind had ever occurred in a house under his management before. What with the cloggers and the navvies it was no easy matter to keep an orderly house. He wished to express regret for what had happened. He could not say if Badger and Fellows had been drinking. Mr Badger was usually a temperate man. A man named Connor had the appearance of being the worse for liquor. ‘Were you not aware of this before?’ No. As he had explained, he was busy with the October accounts. ‘You consider your daughter a fit person to be in charge of a crowded bar?’ Yes. His daughter was quite competent and used to keeping order. ‘How old is she?’ She was twenty years of age. Messrs Astill, he persisted, always expected the accounts to be ready by the end of the month, and he had happened to be a little behind with them. Messrs Astill would speak for him. ‘You consider that you performed your duty as licensee of this inn?’ Yes. Certainly he considered he had done his duty. He had sent for the doctor at once. ‘You really expect me and the jury to believe that a girl of twenty is a fit person to be left in charge of a bar full of those rough men? Very well. . . . You can stand down.’