Fayre looked at her with interest. She was dressed in a black coat and skirt and a small black felt hat, of the kind affected by the more downright type of middle-aged spinster. She was pale, but composed, and was apparently oblivious of the little stir occasioned by her entrance. Catching sight of Leslie, she bowed to him, gravely, but with marked friendliness.
The Jury filed in, followed by the Coroner, an elderly man whose practice lay on the other side of Whitbury. His address to the Jury was short and to the point.
“You have inspected the body of this lady,” he concluded, “and have been shown the cause of death, a bullet-wound in the left temple. The body, as you know, has already been identified. After hearing the evidence which will be brought before you, you are called on to settle in your minds in what way the deceased came by her death.”
The proceedings opened with the evidence of Gunnet and Sergeant Brace. Brace described his visit to the farm and the discovery of the footsteps under the window and in the barn. He reported his conversation with Leslie concerning them.
“You have not, so far, been able to trace them to any definite person?” suggested the Coroner.
“We are making inquiries,” answered Brace evasively. “At present we have nothing to report.”
One of the jurors, a tradesman whose shop was on the outskirts of Whitbury, cleared his throat nervously.
“There was a tramp passed my place on Monday afternoon,” he volunteered.
There was a slight delay while he was sworn in.
“What time did you see this man?”