“I listen to the words of those qualified to speak with knowledge and authority. I have mixed in varied company this past week, wholly on your account. Don’t be led away by the mere formalities of the opening day of the inquest. The coroner deliberately shut off all real evidence except as to the cause of death. On Wednesday the situation will change, and you cannot fail to be shocked by what you hear, because you will be there.” “I am given to understand that, even if I am called, my testimony will be of no importance.” “Such may be the police view. Mr. Ingerman will press for a very different estimate.” “Has he told you that?” “Yes.” “So, although foreman of the jury, you have not declined to hobnob with a man who is avowedly Mr. Grant’s enemy?” “I would hobnob with worse people if, by so doing, I might serve you.” Grant, “fed up,” as he put it to Hart, with watching the _tête à tête_ between Doris and the chemist, sprang to his feet and went through a pantomime easy enough to follow save for one or two signs. Doris held both hands aloft. Well knowing that anything in the nature of a pre-arranged code would be gall and wormwood to Siddle, she explained laughingly: “Mr. Grant signals that he and Mr. Hart are going for a walk; he wants me to accompany them. But I can’t, unfortunately. I promised dad to help with the accounts.” “If you really mean what you say, my warning would seem to have fallen on deaf ears.” Siddle’s voice was well under control, but his eyes glinted dangerously. His state was that of a man torn by passion who nevertheless felt that any display of the rage possessing him would be fatal to his cause. But, rather unexpectedly, Doris took fire. Siddle’s innuendoes and protestations were sufficiently hard to bear without the added knowledge that a ridiculous convention denied her the companionship of a man whom she loved, and who, she was beginning to believe, loved her. She swept round on Siddle like a wrathful goddess. “I have borne with you patiently because of the acquaintance of years, but I shall be glad if this tittle-tattle of malice and ignorance now ceases,” she said proudly. “Mr. Grant is my friend, and my father’s friend. In the first horror of the crime which has besmirched our dear little village, we both treated Mr. Grant rather badly. We know better to-day. Your Ingermans and your Elkins, and the rest of the busybodies gathered at the inn, may defame him as they choose, or as they dare. As for me, I am his loyal comrade, and shall remain so after next Wednesday, or a score of Wednesdays. I am going in now, Mr. Siddle, and shall be engaged during the remainder of the evening. Your shop opens at six, and I am sure you will find some more profitable means of spending the time than in telling me things I would rather not hear.” Siddle caught her arm. “Doris,” he said fiercely, “you must not leave me without, at least, learning my true motive. I—”