"But what would he do without money on a journey?" persisted the gentleman.
Mr. Thornycroft paused for a moment, considering his answer. It was exceedingly unfortunate that he could not speak out freely: Cyril's reputation had suffered less.
"The fact of his having left his purse at home does not prove he has no money with him," said the justice. "In fact, I believe he keeps his porte-monnaie in his pocket from habit more than anything else, and carries his money loose. Most men, so far as I know, like to do so. I examined the porte-monnaie this morning, and found it empty."
There was a slight laugh at this, hushed immediately. Mr. Thornycroft, finding nothing farther was asked him, sat down again.
"Call Sarah Ford," said the coroner.
Sarah Ford came in, and Captain Copp, who made one of the few spectators, struck his wooden leg irascibly on the floor of the room: a respectable, intelligent-looking woman, quietly attired in a straw bonnet, a brown shawl with flowered border, with a white handkerchief in her gloved hands. She did not appear to be in the least put out at having to appear before the coroner and jury, and gave her evidence with the most perfect independence.
The coroner looked at his notes; not of the evidence already given, which his clerk was taking down, but of some he had brought to refresh his memory.
"Do you recollect last Sunday evening, witness?" he asked, when a few preliminary questions had been gone through.
"What should hinder me?" returned the witness, ever ready with her tongue. "It's not so long ago."
"Where did you go to that evening?"