Dr. Gregg was called next. He gave his evidence clearly and straightforwardly, but with an awkwardness of manner that amounted almost to surliness. Fayre had the impression that he was either shy or bad-tempered, possibly both. He expressed his opinion that the deceased had been dead for about four hours at the time of his examination. Asked whether the wound might have been self-inflicted, he said that such a thing would be practically impossible, even in the case of a left-handed person, as the shot had been fired at arm’s-length, a feat so difficult as to be almost out of the question. In answer to a question by the Coroner, he stated that death would have been instantaneous and that, in the case of suicide, the weapon would undoubtedly have fallen either on the table or on the floor close to the chair. He gave his answers grudgingly, as though he resented having been drawn into the affair at all. His evidence was corroborated by the police surgeon who had been summoned from Carlisle. There was a little stir in the court as John Leslie stepped forward. Kean had drilled him well in the few minutes he had had at his disposal and he gave his evidence in a clear, audible voice, confining himself to the bare facts of the case. He described his return to the farm and the finding of the body and stated emphatically that he had never met Mrs. Draycott and had no idea of her identity until Gunnet recognized her. Asked to account for his movements, he said that he had left the farm at about four o’clock and that from five until just before eight he had been walking. “That leaves a certain period of time unaccounted for. Where did you go when you left the farm?” asked the Coroner. “I walked to the edge of the Galston copse. I had an appointment there at four-thirty.” “Did you keep that appointment?” “I did, leaving there at five and walking straight across the fields in the direction of Besley. When I was almost in sight of the village I turned off and made a wide detour and arrived back at the farm from the Whitbury side.” “You did not stop at any inn or speak to any one in the course of your walk?” “No. I was in the fields practically all the time. I hardly saw a soul. It was dark before seven and pitch-black by the time I got home.” “Then I understand that you spoke to no one except the person with whom you had the appointment?” “No one.” “Who was that person, Mr. Leslie?” “Lady Cynthia Bell.” Leslie spoke with obvious reluctance and there was a rustle as the crowd turned, sheep-like, to stare at Cynthia. “And you parted at five o’clock?” “Thereabouts.” “Why didn’t you return to the farm after leaving the Galston copse?” “I had been working all day and I needed exercise.” “Farm work is fairly heavy work, Mr. Leslie, even at this time of year. According to your account, you must have walked a good twelve miles between five o’clock and eight. Had you no other reason for making such a wide detour?”