But more than all this, he thought of Mary Bolitho. He remembered the words she had spoken to him on the night of the gathering in London, remembered the flash of her eyes, the smile on her lips. What if her father had written an insulting note of refusal? It weighed nothing with him. He had sworn to win her, and he believed--yes, he believed that he could have done so. But now all that was impossible, too. Of course, she had heard of what had taken place, heard of the accusation which had been laid against him. She would look on him as a murderer; yes, and as the perpetrator of a gross, vulgar murder, too. What would she think of him? Yes, that maddened him. The rest seemed small in comparison with this, and he knew what would take place, too. Next there would be a coroner's inquest, then another meeting before the magistrates, and then he would have to meet judge and jury at the Manchester Assizes. Every detail of his life would be discussed, no matter how sacred it might be, while the vilest thoughts and feelings would be attributed to him by a gaping, vulgar crowd, and he must suffer it. And this was to be the end of life. A few weeks more and the end would come, and he, Paul Stepaside, who had such hopes of a brilliant future, would end his life on the scaffold. A hangman's cord would be around his neck, and he would drop into Eternity, reviled and spurned despite his innocence. CHAPTER XV THE CORONER'S INQUEST The next day he was brought back to Brunford again, this time to be present at the coroner's inquest. A prison van took him from Strangeways Gaol to the station, and thence he went to the town in which, to use the words of one of the morning papers, "he had won an almost unique position." He dreaded this inquest almost more than he dreaded anything else, for he knew that the inquiry which would be made would not be hedged in by so many formulae as those which are associated with the Assizes. The business of this coroner's inquest would not be to condemn a murderer or even to apprehend a murderer, but officially to decide upon the means whereby Ned Wilson came to his end, and, as a consequence, anyone could elect to give evidence, and anyone could tell not only of what he was sure, but of what he believed. All sorts of irrelevant matter might be adduced here--gossip, suspicion, unsupported statement. All belonged to the order of the day. He knew what Brunford was. On the whole the people were kind-hearted and well-meaning. Many of them might be coarse and somewhat brutal, but on the whole they were people he loved. But he knew their morbid interest in crime, their love of gossip; knew that they were eager to hear and to discuss every bit of scandal which might be adduced.