“The rest of Annie’s story,” continued the man in the corner, “was drowned in a deluge of tears. As for the doctor, he could add but little to what the public had already known and guessed. Mrs. Yule undoubtedly suffered from a weak heart, although she had never been known to faint. In this instance, however, she undoubtedly must have turned giddy, as she was about to go downstairs, and fallen headlong. She was of course very much injured, the doctor explained, but she actually died of heart failure, brought on by the shock of the fall. She must have been on her way to church, for her prayer book was found on the floor close by her, also a candle—which she must have carried, as it was a dark morning—had rolled along and extinguished itself as it rolled. From these facts, therefore, it was gathered that the poor old lady came by this tragic death at about six o’clock, the hour at which she regularly started out for morning service. Both the servants and also Mr. Bloggs slept at the top of the house, and it is a known fact that sleep in most cases is always heaviest in the early morning hours; there was, therefore, nothing strange in the fact that no one heard either the fall or a scream, if Mrs. Yule uttered one, which is doubtful. “So far, you see,” continued the man in the corner, after a slight pause, “there did not appear to be anything very out of the way or mysterious about Mrs. Yule’s tragic death. But the public expected interesting developments, and I must say their expectations were more than fully realised. “Jane, the cook, was the first witness to give the public an inkling of the sensations to come. “She deposed that on Thursday, the 27th, she was alone in the kitchen in the evening after dinner, as it was the housemaid’s evening out, when, at about nine o’clock, there was a ring at the bell. “‘I went to answer the door,’ said Jane, ‘and there was a lady, all dressed in black, as far as I could see—as the ’all gas always did burn very badly—still, I think she was dressed dark, and she ’ad on a big ’at and a veil with spots. She says to me: “Mrs. Yule lives ’ere?” I says, “She do, ’m,” though I don’t think she was quite the lady, so I don’t know why I said ’m, but——’ “‘Yes, yes!’ here interrupted the coroner somewhat impatiently, ‘it doesn’t matter what you said. Tell us what happened.’ “‘Yes, sir,’ continued Jane, quite undisturbed, ‘as I was saying, I asked the lady her name, and she says: “Tell Mrs. Yule I would wish to speak with her,” then as she saw me ’esitating, for I didn’t like leaving her all alone in the ’all, she said, “Tell Mrs. Yule that Mrs. William Yule wishes to speak with ’er.”’