“Whisperings, and murmurings, and the shuffling of many feet—with some glances towards the ceiling, as though curious eyes would pierce through, and see the ghastly thing laid above. At present, only a grave-faced country constable or two, setting chairs in order for the twelve lucky men, the Coroner, and the witnesses; and exercising a little brief authority, in keeping back certain Bambertonites who were pressing forward beyond the limits assigned for the general public. Once or twice, the door of a smaller room opened, and an important-looking little man, with a hard face and a tuft of hair on his chin, came bustling out, with a little sheaf of papers in his hand, to whisper to one or other of the constables. The door of that room proved to be a keen source of attraction to many eyes; for it was whispered that the prisoner waited within.” After what seemed an interminable length of time, a little gentleman, in a black frock-coat, thrust his way with some impatience through the general public, and made his way to one end of the table set apart in the cleared space. A murmur ran round that this was the Coroner, from the neighbouring county-town; murmurs, also, that he did not quite look the part, inasmuch as that he wore an air of cheerfulness, which seemed almost to suggest that he was about to preside at a wedding, rather than at anything so formidable as an inquest. A little glancing at his watch by this gentleman; an expostulatory whisper or two on his part to the constables in attendance, and the door of the inner room opened again, and Inspector Tokely came bustling out. One constable—a stranger to Bamberton, and of more importance on that account, produced a list, from which, with a strong provincial accent, he proceeded to call out certain names. Then, more shuffling of feet, and some friendly pushing of bashful jurymen forward, and the twelve ranged themselves sheepishly, with much coughing, round the table, and were duly sworn. “Be seated, gentlemen, I beg,” said the Coroner, busy with his papers. “Stop one moment, though”—glancing up quickly—“have you viewed the body?” Several of the jurymen present expressed a decided disinclination to do anything of the kind; and it became apparent that that important ceremony had not been performed. “Really, Moody,” exclaimed the Coroner—“this is most remiss on your part. This should have been done first of all. We are wasting time—valuable time.” The repentant Mr. Moody—the strange constable—made some attempt at an apology, and concluded by hurrying the jurymen through another door, where they were heard to go heavily up wooden stairs, and to tramp about a little overhead. In the meantime, the Coroner had a word or two with Inspector Tokely, and glanced once or twice, with a nod, towards the door where the prisoner was supposed to be.