The black-bearded little man's figure straightened and an eager light came into his eyes. He rose.
"Yus," he said defiantly. "I've got some questions."
The coroner's hands tightened together.
"Very well," he snapped. "Go on and ask your questions."
The way in which he spoke explained to the entire audience that the questions could only be a pointless waste of their time as much as his own.
The little man turned to Simon.
"You're the chap they call the Saint, ain't you?" he said. "You've 'ad a lot of experience of crime — murders, and that sort o' thing."
Before Simon could answer the coroner intervened.
"Mr Templar's past life.and any nickname by which he may be known to the public are not subjects which we have to consider at this inquiry. Kindly confine your questions to facts relevant to the case."
There was an awkward pause. The little juryman's attitude was still undaunted, but he didn't seem to know what to say next. He looked about him desperately, as if searching the room for inspiration. Finally he spoke.