“Throughout all these proceedings, however, you may be sure that Mr. William Yule did not remain a passive spectator. In fact I, who watched him, could see quite clearly that he had the greatest possible difficulty in controlling himself. Mind you, I knew by then exactly where the hitch lay, and I could, and will presently, tell you exactly all that occurred on Thursday evening, 27th March, at No. 9, Dartmoor Terrace, just as if I had spent that memorable night there myself; and I can assure you that it gave me great pleasure to watch the faces of the two men most interested in the verdict of this coroner’s jury. “Every one’s sympathy had by now entirely veered round to young Bloggs, who for years had been brought up to expect a fortune, and had then, at the last moment, been defrauded of it, through what looked already much like a crime. The deed of gift had, of course, not been what the lawyers call ‘completed.’ It had rested in Mrs. Yule’s desk, and had never been ‘delivered’ by the donor to the donee, or even to another person on his behalf. “Young Bloggs, therefore, saw himself suddenly destined to live his life as penniless as he had been when he was still the old gardener’s son. “No doubt the public felt that what lurked mostly in his mind was a desire for revenge, and I think everyone forgave him when he gave his evidence with a distinct tone of animosity against the woman who had apparently succeeded in robbing him of a fortune. “He had only met Mrs. William Yule once before, he explained, but he was ready to swear that it was she who called that night. As for the original motive of the quarrel between the two ladies, young Bloggs was inclined to think that it was mostly on the question of money. “‘Mrs. William,’ continued the young man, ‘made certain peremptory demands on Mrs. Yule, which the old lady bitterly resented.’ “But here there was an awful and sudden interruption. William Yule, now quite beside himself with rage, had with one bound reached the witness-box, and struck young Bloggs a violent blow in the face. “‘Liar and cheat!’ he roared, ‘take that!’ “And he prepared to deal the young man another even more vigorous blow, when he was overpowered and seized by the constables. Young Bloggs had become positively livid; his face looked grey and ashen, except there, where his powerful assailant’s fist had left a deep purple mark. “‘You have done your wife’s cause no good,’ remarked the coroner drily, as William Yule, sullen and defiant, was forcibly dragged back to his place. ‘I shall adjourn the inquest until Monday, and will expect Mrs. Yule to be present and to explain exactly what happened after her quarrel with the deceased, and why she left the house so suddenly and mysteriously that night.’