“Your behaviour is most extraordinary. You evidently cannot realise the serious nature of the occasion which brings us here. Are you aware, sir, that if you decline to answer the questions which are put to you, I can commit you to prison for contempt of Court?” “I am not aware of any reason why impertinent questions should be answered under one set of circumstances rather than another.” “Don’t argue with me. Will you answer the question which counsel has put to you?” “My good Mr. Coroner----” “I commit you for contempt. Officer, arrest this man.” “If the gentleman in question is wise enough to take my seriously offered advice, he will not attempt to do anything so foolish.” Hume, who was sitting opposite, rose and leaned towards me across the table. “Are you stark mad? What useful purpose do you propose to serve by going to gaol? Or what good do you suppose you will do her by fumbling with the questions? You will have to speak out sooner or later. Speak out now! Tell the truth! That is the only way in which you can do her a service.” Jordan struck in; still twirling the scrap of paper into spirals with his fingers: “Might I ask you, Mr. Coroner, to request your officer to refrain for a moment from carrying out your instructions? Perhaps Mr. Ferguson may be disposed to listen to this gentleman’s wise and friendly counsel. Don’t you think, sir, that you had better?” I laughed. “I do. I am prepared to answer any questions which you may put to me.” “That is more promising. I assure you that I have no desire to do or say anything to hurt your feelings. I believe I know what they are, and I respect them. But I must do my duty and you must do yours; and I do not think that you will hurt any one by doing it.” “Don’t lecture me, man.” “Now, tell me; did any one come through your bedroom window after you had retired to rest?” “No one.” “That you swear.” “Miss Bessie Moore did not come through your window?” “Certainly not. How dare you drag in that lady’s name?” “Was she in your rooms at all that night?” “She was not.” “Did you go up, between one and two in the morning, to tell the housekeeper that she had come through your window?” “I did not.” “Did the housekeeper come down and find her in your room?” “She did not.” “Did Miss Bessie Moore spend the night in the housekeeper’s apartments?” “I can’t say.” “Can’t--or won’t?” “Can’t.” “Are you aware that you have sworn to speak the truth?” “I am.” “Are you acquainted with the pains and penalties of perjury?” “My good man, pray don’t, even by inference, attempt to measure others’ ignorance by the standard of your own.” “As you will. So long as we know that we are not dealing with one who is wholly illiterate. Have you seen this cloak before, Mr. Ferguson?” From a bag which Inspector Symonds produced from beneath the table he took, as I had expected, the plum-coloured cloak. “I have.” “Where?” “In my room. And on my cousin’s back.”