CORRUPTION
T he tightly-wedged mass of spectators watched, open-mouthed and quivering with anticipation, while the attendant, at Meeking's whispered bidding, broke the seals and cut the strings of the package which he had just carried in. Clearly, this was some piece of material evidence—but what? A faint murmur of interest rose as the last wrappings fell aside and revealed a somewhat-the-worse-for-wear typewriter. People glanced from it to the witness: some of those present recognized him as a young mechanic, a native of Hathelsborough, who had gone, a few years previously, to work in the neighbouring manufacturing city of Clothford—such began to ask themselves what he could have to do with this case and waited eagerly for his evidence.
But Meeking, the battered typewriter before him, kept the witness waiting. Turning to the bench, he put in the depositions taken at the Coroner's inquest with respect to the typewritten threatening letter sent to Wallingford and by him entrusted to Epplewhite; the letter itself, and the facsimile of the letter published as a supplement by the Monitor, with a brief explanation of his reasons for bringing them into evidence. Then he addressed himself to his witness and got the first facts from him—Samuel Owthwaite. Mechanic. Employed by Green & Polford, Limited, of Clothford, agents for all the leading firms of typewriter manufacturers.
"I believe you're a native of Hathelsborough, aren't you, Owthwaite?" began Meeking.
"I am, sir."
"Keep up your interest in the old place, eh?"
"I do, sir."
"Have you any relations in the town?"
"Yes, sir, several."
"Do they send you the Hathelsborough paper, the Monitor, every week?"