"She said Mr. Egerton was 'short like' with her, and—"
"Ah yes!" Mrs. Vincent hastened to resume the reins. "He was 'short like' and a bit 'uffy with her; and he said he'd lost the sack, picking up wood—lost it in the river....
"And then Mr. Egerton himself was put in the box and he told exactly the same story!" Mrs. Vincent said these words with a huge ironical emphasis, as if it would have reflected credit on Mr. Egerton had he invented an entirely new story for the purposes of the inquest.
"He told exactly the same story, and he told it very badly, in my opinion—you know, hesitating and mumbling, as if he was keeping something back—and looking at the floor all the time."
"We must remember he's naturally a very shy man," said Mr. Dimple, "and a public inquest, at the best—"
"Yes, but look what he said—The Coroner asked him the same question—when was it he had borrowed the sack—before or after the young woman disappeared. Mr. Egerton said he really didn't know, because he didn't know when the young woman had disappeared.... As if we didn't all know, the very next day...."
"Pardon me," said Mr. Dimple, "but I didn't know myself, not till one day last week—and I live two doors from the Byrnes—"
"Yes, but you're a man," said Mrs. Vincent, with a large contempt.
"So is Mr. Egerton."
Mrs. Vincent should have been a boxer. She recovered nobly.