"Do you think he intended to kill his brother because he stood in his way with Miss Bellin?" asked an inquisitive juryman of a romantic turn of mind.
"I really don't know, sir," replied Strent, looking the juryman straight in the face. "He said nothing to me. We were quarreling over the shabby way in which he had treated my sister, and the arrowhead was on the table between us."
"What was the position of the arrowhead?" asked the coroner prompted by Merrick.
"It was leaning against a book which was on the table, and the point was uppermost. I said to Mr. Briarfield: 'Will you marry my sister?' and he said: 'No; I'm ---- if I will.' While saying this, he brought down the open palm of his hand on the arrowhead, and gave a cry of pain. When he lifted his hand, it had a ragged wound across it from the thumb to the little finger. I wished to bind it up, but he pushed me away, crying out he was a dead man. In three minutes he was lying dead on the floor. I threw the arrowhead into the fireplace, and tried to revive him, but it was no use. He was dead!"
"And you?"
"I was afraid I would be accused of the death, as Mr. Denham or Mr. Francis might have heard us quarreling together. I lost my head altogether, and only thought of flight. I ran up to my sister's room, and told her Felix was dead. Then I saddled the horse. When she came to the door, I was mounting. I told her to take the gig and fly to Marshminster, and that I would explain all in London."
"You fled like a coward!"
"I suppose I did," said the man sullenly, "but I was beside myself with terror. I rode to Starby, and gave the horse back to the livery-stable keeper. Then I went to London and saw my sister. She agreed with me that it was best to keep quiet, so I did not come forward to give evidence. Had it not been for that detective who watched my sister, I should not be here now."
This evidence practically ended the inquest. Merrick was called to prove that the wound in the hand was such a one as might have been made by the downward stroke of the hand on a sharp point. This evidence was substantiated by the local practitioner, who had examined the body with Dr. Merrick. There was no doubt that the affair had happened as Strent said. Felix Briarfield had slapped his open hand on the table to emphasize his refusal to marry Rose Gernon. Unfortunately, it came in contact with the poisoned arrowhead. The flint had an edge like a razor, and, being steeped in virulent poison, acted like a snakebite on the unfortunate young man. Felix had not been murdered, but died by misadventure.
This was the verdict brought in by the jury, and so the whole of this strange affair came to an end. Thanks to the astuteness of the inspector, and the delicacy of the coroner, the jury were quite unaware of what had happened between the death of Felix and the inquest. The reporters of the Marshminster Gazette merely put in a short statement of the affair, and in a few days people ceased to take any interest in the Fen Inn crime. It was a lucky escape for Francis, but I don't think the lesson was thrown away on him.