"How could she," growled Ward, "when she was drugged." "Silence there," said the Coroner sharply. "What time did you fall under the influence of the opiate, Miss Huxham?" "Shortly after eight, so far as I can recollect." "Did you know that the tea was drugged?" "If I had I should not have drunk it," retorted the witness. "It was only next morning that I guessed the truth, and then I kept the dregs for Dr. Ward to examine. He says----" "He can give his evidence himself," interrupted the Coroner. "Why did your father drug you?" "I can't say, sir, unless he feared lest I should elope with Mr. Lister." "Had you any such intention?" "No, I had not." The Coroner looked at her earnestly and pinched his lip, apparently nonplussed. The whole affair struck him as strange, and he cross-examined the girl carefully. When he examined Mrs. Coppersley and Ward, both of them bore out the improbable story--in the Coroner's opinion--told by the girl. Finally the old doctor accepted the testimony and dismissed the witnesses. "I can't compliment you on the conduct of this case, Inspector Inglis," he said, when informed that no more witnesses were forthcoming. "You have collected nothing likely to solve the mystery." "I cannot manufacture evidence, sir," said Inglis stiffly. The Coroner grunted and made an acid speech in which he pointed out that the evidence laid before him and the jury amounted to absolutely nothing. Only one verdict could be brought in--"Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown." This was accordingly done, and the assembly dispersed. Only the Coroner remained to state sourly to Inglis that he considered the police in general to be fools, and the Pierside inspector to be the king of them. CHAPTER VII CYRIL AND BELLA Captain Huxham's death having been legally relegated to the list of undiscovered crimes, his gnarled old body was committed to a damp grave in Marshely cemetery. There was a vast concourse of people from far and near to assist at the funeral of one who had been so mysteriously murdered. So greatly had the strangeness of the deed appealed to the imagination of metropolitan readers, that many London reporters came down to see the last of the case, and if possible to begin it again by making enquiries. But ask as they might, they could learn nothing. They were therefore compelled to content themselves with picturesque descriptions of the ancient Manor-house amidst its corn-fields, and with inaccurately lurid accounts of the late owner's career as a sailor.