Miss D’Arblay rose without any comment or apparent reluctance, and we followed the inspector to the adjoining mortuary, where, having admitted us, he stood outside awaiting us. The body lay on the slate-topped table, covered with a sheet excepting the face, which was exposed and was undisfigured by any traces of the examination. I watched my friend a little nervously as we entered the grim chamber, fearful that this additional trial might be too much for her self-control. But she kept command of herself, though she wept quietly as she stood beside the table looking down on the still, waxen-faced figure. After standing thus for a few moments, she turned away with a smothered sob, wiped her eyes, and walked out of the mortuary.
When we re-entered the court-room, we found our chairs moved up to the table, and the coroner waiting to call the witnesses. As I had expected, my name was the first on the list, and, on being called, I took my place by the table near to the coroner and was duly sworn.
“Will you give us your name, occupation, and address?” the coroner asked.
“My name is Stephen Gray,” I replied. “I am a medical practitioner, and my temporary address is 61, Mecklenburgh-square, London.”
“When you say ‘your temporary address’ you mean⸺?”
“I am taking charge of a medical practice at that address. I shall be there six weeks or more.”
“Then that will be your address for our purposes. Have you viewed the body that is now lying in the mortuary, and, if so, do you recognize it?”
“Yes. It is the body which I saw lying in a pond in Church-yard Bottom Wood on the morning of the 16th instant—last Tuesday.”
“Can you tell us how long deceased had been dead when you first saw the body?”
“I should say he had been dead nine or ten hours.”