The question rather surprised me. Dimsdale’s opinion might not be worth much, but the casual and inexpert observations of a layman would have seemed to me to be worth nothing at all. However, I tried to recall such details as I could remember of poor Monkhouse’s appearance and his own comments on his condition and recounted them to Thorndyke with such amplifications as his questions elicited. “But,” I concluded, “the real question is, who has set the coroner in motion and with what object?”
“That question,” said Thorndyke, “will be answered the day after to-morrow, and there is not much utility in trying to guess at the answer in advance. The real question is whether any arrangements ought to be made in the interests of your friends. We are quite in the dark as to what may occur in the course of the inquest.”
“Yes, I had thought of that. Some one ought to be present to represent Mrs. Monkhouse. I suppose it would not be possible for you to attend to watch the case on her behalf?”
“I don’t think it would be advisable,” he replied. “You will be present and could claim to represent Mrs. Monkhouse so far as might be necessary to prevent improper questions being put to her. But I do think that you should have a complete record of all that takes place. I would suggest that I send Holman, who does most of my shorthand reporting, with instructions to make a verbatim report of the entire proceedings. It may turn out to be quite unnecessary; but if any complications should arise, we shall have the complete depositions with the added advantage that you will have been present and will have heard all the evidence. How will that suit you?”
“If you think it is the best plan there is nothing more to say, excepting to thank you for your help.”
“And give me a written note of the time and place to hand to Holman when I give him his instructions.”
I complied with this request at once; and having by this time reached the end of the Terrace, I shook hands with him and walked slowly back to my chambers in Fig Tree Court. I had not got much out of Thorndyke excepting a very useful suggestion and some valuable help; indeed, as I turned over his extremely cautious utterances and speculated on what he meant by “complications,” I found myself rather more uncomfortably puzzled than I had been before I met him.
Chapter IV.
“How, When and Where—”
It was on the second day after the interrupted funeral that the thunderbolt fell. I cannot say that it found me entirely unprepared, for my reflections during the intervening day had filled me with forebodings; and by Thorndyke the catastrophe was pretty plainly foreseen. But on the others the blow fell with devastating effect. However, I must not anticipate. Rather let me get back to a consecutive narration of the actual events.
On the day after the visit of the coroner’s officer we had held, at my suggestion, a sort of family committee to consider what we knew of the circumstances and antecedents of Harold’s death, so that we might be in a position to give our evidence clearly and readily and be in agreement as to the leading facts. Thus we went to the coroner’s court prepared, at least, to tell an intelligible and consistent story.