“Probably not. But I did meet one or two people I knew.”
“None of them is here now?”
“No.”
“Do you desire that the inquest should be adjourned in order that they may be called?”
“No. What on earth for? I don’t know whether I could find them, anyway.”
“Then I think there is nothing further I need ask you.”
And with that, a good deal bewildered, Walter Brooklyn was told to leave the witness box. He went back to his seat, but a minute later got up and left the court.
Many pairs of eyes followed him as he walked slowly towards the door, and the more experienced spectators nudged one another as Inspector Blaikie rose quickly in his place and went out after him. Joan, in her place in the court, saw her stepfather leave; but she did not notice that the inspector had followed. Ellery, who did notice, said nothing; for though he realised what was about to happen he saw that there was no means of preventing the arrest.
Meanwhile, the coroner was rapidly summing up the evidence. Murder, he told the jury, was clearly established in both cases; and they need have no hesitation as to their verdict on that point. But who had committed the murders? If they were satisfied that in either case the evidence established the guilt of some definite person, it was their duty to bring in a verdict against that person. In his opinion, however, the evidence was wholly inadequate to form the basis of any positive conclusion. It might be that John Prinsep had been killed by George Brooklyn—the finding of the handkerchief and his known visit to the house were certainly suspicious circumstances. It might be, on the other hand, that George Brooklyn had been killed by John Prinsep—the note in Prinsep’s writing found in the temple, the cigar-holder, and his known presence in the garden were all grounds for suspicion. But both these sets of clues could not point to the truth, and the jury had no means of determining on which the greater reliance should be placed. Indeed, both sets of clues might be misleading, and certainly neither was by itself enough to form the basis of a verdict. The murders might both be the work of some third person—and one of them must be the work of a third person—but no evidence had been placed before them which would justify a verdict against any particular person. Suspicion, he would remind them, was a very different thing from proof, and even with their suspicions they must not be too free in face of the very slender evidence before them.
After the coroner’s summing up, it was clear that only one verdict was possible. After only a moment’s consultation, the foreman announced that their verdict in both cases was “Wilful Murder by some person or persons unknown.” The coroner made a short speech thanking every one, and the court adjourned. Joan was glad to breathe fresh air again after her first experience of the suffocating atmosphere of a court.