There was more interest in the evidence of the police-surgeon. It was, he said, about twenty minutes to seven o’clock when he, with the Chief Constable and Detective-Sergeant Blick, reached Markenmore Hollow. He saw at once that Guy Markenmore had been shot dead, and his impression was that he had then been dead between two or three hours—nearer three than two. His opinion remained unaltered—he should fix the actual time of death at about four o’clock. Death had been instantaneous. From a subsequent post-mortem examination he had ascertained that the bullet—produced—fired, in his opinion, at close quarters from a revolver, had entered the head at the right temple, passed through the brain in a curving downward direction and finally lodged in the muscles a little below the left ear. “This,” suggested the Coroner, “could have been a self-inflicted wound?” “Certainly,” replied the witness. “But in that case, the weapon would have been found close at hand?” “In that case, I should have expected to find him still grasping the weapon. The probability in such case is that a man who shoots himself grips his revolver very tightly in the act, and his fingers would tighten their grip as the shot took effect.” “As there was no revolver near, you came to the conclusion that this was a case of murder?” “Yes—murder!” “Did you come to any conclusion as to how it was done?” “Yes, I did. An opinion, that is, I think that the murderer and his victim were walking side by side, probably in close conversation, the victim on the left. I think the murderer brought his right hand, armed with a revolver, suddenly round across his own body, and shot his victim at literally close quarters, the victim being absolutely unconscious that he was to be attacked. The revolver must have been placed close to the temple—the skin and the fine hair about it were burnt.” The Coroner looked round at the jury. “The sun rises at about ten minutes to five, just now,” he observed. “At four o’clock, then, it would be fairly light. This is an important point, gentlemen. You must keep it in mind, in view of what you have just heard.” None of the legal practitioners had any questions to put to the police-surgeon; he stepped down, and a whispered consultation took place between the Coroner and one of his officials. Then came the moment for which the crowded court had waited with suppressed eagerness. “Mrs. Veronica Tretheroe!” Mrs. Tretheroe rose from between her supporting friends, and walked slowly forward to the witness-box. Evidently well coached as to what she was to do, she drew off the glove from her right hand and threw back her thick veil. Taking the Testament in her ungloved hand she repeated the words of the oath in a low voice, and turned a very pale, but perfectly self-possessed face on the Coroner, who bent towards her with an expression of sympathetic consideration. Amidst a dead silence he began his preliminary questions.