And the mob, when it had duly stared also, elbowing each other in the process,18 and fighting ruefully for precedence, burst out into a howl. Not at all a complimentary one to Dr. Rane.
He had sold her for dissection! He had never put her in at all! He had had a sham funeral! 'Twasn't enough to poison of her, but he must sell her afterwards!
To accuse a man of those heinous offences behind his back, is one thing, but it is not felt to be quite so convenient to do it in his presence. The sight of Dr. Rane walking calmly, not to say impudently, across the churchyard into their very midst, struck a certain timidity on the spirits of the roarers. Silence ensued. They even parted to allow him to pass. Dr. Rane threw his glance on the empty coffin, and then on those who stood around it.
"Well," said he, "why don't you take me?"
And not a soul ventured to reply.
"I have murdered my wife, have I? If I have done so, why, you know I deserve no quarter. Come, Mr. Coroner, why don't you issue your orders to arrest me? You have your officers at hand."
The independence with which this was spoken, the freedom of Dr. Rane's demeanour, the mockery of his tone, could not be surpassed. He had the best of it now; might say what he pleased, and laugh derisively at them at will: and they knew it. Even Dale, the coroner, felt small--which is saying a good deal of a lawyer.
Turning round, the doctor walked slowly back again, his head in the air. Mrs. Gass met him.
"Tell me the truth for the love of goodness, doctor. I have never believed it of you. You did not help her to her death?"
"Help her to her death?" he retorted. "No: my wife was too dear to me for that. I'd have killed the whole world rather than her--if it must have come to killing at all."