It wanted a few minutes of three o'clock when Ashton-Kirk, still accompanied by the curious Pendleton, walked into the outer room of the coroner's suite.
"Mr. Stillman will be here at any moment now," said Curran. Then lowering his voice and making a short little gesture from the elbow, he added: "These people are the ones he wanted to see."
As he and Pendleton sat down, Ashton-Kirk looked at the persons referred to. The first was a thin, wiry little woman, unmistakably Irish, cleanly dressed and with sharp, inquisitive eyes. Engaged in a low-pitched conversation with her was a thick-necked German, heavy of paunch and with a fat, red face. The third was a spectacled young Jew, poring over a huge volume which he seemed to have brought with him. He had a tremendous head of curling black hair; his clothing was shabby. There was a rapt expression upon his face; plainly nothing existed for him at that moment outside the pages of his book.
After a brief space, the coroner came in,
"Ah, how do you do, gentlemen," greeted he. He was good-natured and strove to be easy; but his natural nervousness clung to him. "I am glad to see you."
He looked at Curran and nodded at the three inquiringly.
"Yes, sir," replied the clerk; "these are the parties."
"Then we will get down to business." He opened a door and entered an inner room. "Will you come in?" he asked of Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton.
They followed him at once; and Curran, addressing the little Irishwoman, said:
"Now, Mrs. Dwyer, this way, please."