A. All right, master.
Q. And you adhere to it?
A. Yes, I do.
Q. That is enough. You can stand down.
A sibilation, a momentary rustling and shuffling, as on the close of an engrossing sermon when tension is relaxed and the hymn being prepared for, followed the dismissal of the witness. A few glanced furtively, hardly realizing yet why they were moved to do so, at a rigid soldierly figure, seated upright and motionless beside the justices on the Bench. But the sense of curious perplexity was hardly theirs when the next witness was claiming their attention. This was Daniel Groome, the gardener, whose evidence, generally a repetition of what he had formerly stated, was marked by a single amendment, the significance of which he himself hardly seemed to realize. It appeared as follows:—
Q. You stated before the Coroner that this louder shot heard by you occurred at a time which you roughly estimated to be anything between three and half-past three o’clock. Is that so?
A. No, sir.
Q. What do you mean by “no”?
A. I’ve thought it over since, sir, and I’ve come to the conclusion that my first impression was nearer the correct one.
Q. Your impression, that is to say, that the shot was fired somewhat about three o’clock?