“Isidor George Ingerman, husband of the deceased lady,” came the clear-toned reply.
“Well, sit down, sir, and do not interrupt the court again,” said the coroner.
“I demand, sir, that you note my protest.”
“Sit down! Were you any other person I would have you removed. As it is, I am prepared to regard your feelings to the extent of explaining that the witness is not identifying the body but relating a fact within his own knowledge.”
Ingerman bowed, and resumed his seat.
For some reason, Grant stared blankly at Furneaux. The latter did not meet his glance, but put a finger on those thin lips. It might, or might not, be a warning to repress any retort he had in mind. At any rate, obeying a nod from the coroner, he merely said:
“She was a well-known actress, Miss Adelaide Melhuish.”
Mr. Belcher’s pen hesitated a little. Then it scratched on. Undoubtedly, he was himself exercising the restraint he meant to impose on others.
“You are quite sure?” he said, after a pause.
“Quite.”