The jury, apparently, attached much weight to his words. On some faces there was an expectancy which merged into marked disappointment when his evidence came to an end. The foreman alone displayed the judicial attitude warranted by the oath he had taken. Somehow, Grant had faith in Mr. Siddle. The man looked intellectual. When spoken to in his shop his manner was invariably reserved. But that was his general repute in Steynholme—a quiet, uninterfering person, who had come to the village a young man, yet had never really entered into its life. For instance, he neither held nor would accept any public office. At first, people wondered how he contrived to eke out a living, but this puzzle was solved by his admitted possession of a small annuity. Dr. Foxton, general practitioner, who held undisputed sway in the district, told how he had conducted an autopsy on the body of the deceased. He found a deep, incised wound on the back of the skull, a wound which would have caused death in any event. The instrument used must have been a heavy and blunt one. Miss Melhuish was dead or dying when thrown into the river. The body was well nourished, and the vital organs sound. Undoubtedly she had been murdered. Bates followed, and evoked a snigger by the outspokenness of blunt Sussex. “I hauled ’um in,” he said, “an’ knew it wur a dead ’un by the feel of the rope.” The coroner was not curious. He merely wished to put on record the time and manner in which Mr. Grant summoned assistance. Then P. C. Robinson entered the box, and contrived to bring about the second “incident.” He told how, “from information received,” he went to _The Hollies_, and found Mr. Grant standing near the river with a dead body at his feet. “One side of Mr. Grant’s face was covered with blood,” he went on. If the policeman was minded to create a sensation, he certainly succeeded. A slight hum ran through the court, and then all present seemed to restrain their breathing lest a word of the evidence should be lost. The mention of “blood” in a murder case was a more adroit dodge than Robinson himself guessed, perhaps. Few of his hearers troubled to reflect that a smudge of fresh gore on Grant’s cheek could hardly have any bearing on the death of a woman whose body had admittedly lain all night in the river. It sufficed that Robinson had introduced a touch of the right color into the inquiry. Even the coroner was worried. “Well!” he said testily. “I took down his statement, sir,” said the witness, well knowing that he had wiped off Grant’s morning score in the matter of Bush Walk. “Never mind his statement. That must await the adjourned hearing. What did you do with the body?” “Took it to the stable of the Hare and Hounds, sir.” “Where it was viewed recently by the jury?” “Yes, sir.” “It is the body identified by Mr. Ingerman as that of his wife?” “Yes, sir.” “That will do.... Superintendent Fowler, will this day week at ten o’clock suit you?”