are such as to demand a stricter inquiry, you will say so. I leave the case in your hands now, and I feel sure you will do it justice!’ The jury shambled out of the room, and Frederick looked up into his cousin’s face with open eyes that were half mystified and half alarmed. ‘Philip! what does that man mean? He cannot--no! it would be too gross--too impossible!--he cannot mean us to understand that he suspects me--_me_ of having had any hand in this misfortune?’ ‘Hush! Fred; hush!’ replied Philip, laying his hand soothingly on the other’s arm; ‘never mind what he says or thinks. He is a cad--any one can see that--in mind as well as breeding. Let the brute think what he likes. He cannot make others agree with him, and all your friends will know that you are innocent in the matter as far as the poor girl’s death is concerned.’ ‘But to be suspected, and by a creature like that--I, who would have given my worthless life for hers a thousand times over. My God! it is hard!’ Philip squeezed his hand. ‘I know it! It is part of the trial, but it will soon be over now! Here are the jury! They have not been long in coming to a decision.’ ‘Well, gentlemen, and what is your verdict?’ demanded Mr Procter, with an unctuous smack of his lips, as if he longed to hear them say they considered that there had been foul play in the matter. ‘Our verdict, sir,’ replied the spokesman; ‘is that the deceased came by her death from a fall over the cliffs, but whether she was thrown over or fell over by accident there is not sufficient evidence to show!’ ‘It is unsatisfactory that your verdict should be undecided,’ said the coroner; ‘had you not better reconsider it?’ ‘We are quite unanimous on the subject, sir; and we would like to add a rider to the effect that some sort of fence should be put along the edge of the cliffs to prevent accidents in future.’ ‘Very well, if you are agreed, it is no use detaining you any longer,’ said Procter, with an aggrieved air, for he had quite made up his own mind that Frederick Walcheren had killed his wife; ‘you have only to sign the papers and end the proceedings.’ As soon as they were set at liberty, Philip hurried his cousin out of the room, for Frederick was in that reckless condition that he dreaded what he might say or do to the coroner. Here they found that the body of poor Jenny had already been moved to an upper chamber by the orders of Mr Crampton, and was being prepared by women’s hands for its last receptacle. That she should have been touched without his authority made her husband furious. ‘Who has dared to do this?’ he exclaimed wrathfully, as he glared at Mr Crampton and Henry Hindes.