The inquest was to be held next day at noon.
CHAPTER XI.
["MRS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED."]
The remainder of that afternoon and the early part of next day were devoted by young Pringle to arranging details for the inquest. He would have attached but little importance to the wild words and manner of Mr. Edward Davenport if there had not been other very strong elements, of suspicion in the case. There was matter for more than grave suspicion--there was matter for absolute alarm. The theory for the defence set up by Mrs. Davenport was puerile in the extreme, and yet he could not make any other fit in with the admitted facts of the case. Upon deliberate consideration, he thought less of his father's exposition than he had at first. His father might be right, but his father's conviction went no further than a supposititious negative. In logic one could not prove a negative; in law there was no prohibition. An overwhelming alibi would insure an acquittal, but an alibi was impossible in this case; and by what other means was it possible to establish a negative?
He was anxious to ascertain one thing: Would Blake be arrested before or during the inquest? He made inquiries, and found that, although Blake's address was known and detectives were watching him, no arrest would be made before the coroner had taken some evidence. Pringle had no interest in Blake beyond the extent to which he affected Mrs. Davenport's case. But that was a great deal. If Blake's mouth were shut, Mrs. Davenport's defence would, he thought, be simpler.
The day of the inquest Pringle went to Jermyn Street, and took Mrs. Davenport to Dulwich. She was taciturn the whole way, and said she had nothing to add to what she had communicated yesterday. She hardly spoke a word the whole way from Jermyn Street to Herne Hill. Pringle's spirits became more depressed as they journeyed together, but he had made up his mind to fight the case out to the last.
The inquest was to be held at the "Wolfdog Inn," and when Pringle and Mrs. Davenport arrived there, a large crowd had already assembled, although the proceedings would not begin for some time. Pringle had engaged a private room for Mrs. Davenport, and to it she retired immediately on their arrival.
It was evident from the manner of those assembled in and near the "Wolf-dog," that the approaching inquiry was regarded with great interest, and that popular feeling was aroused against the newly-made widow.
Mrs. Davenport had entered by a back way, and had not been observed by the loungers. No one in the crowd knew her; but, of course, if she had passed through it, she would have been recognised instantly by her fresh weeds.
For a while young Pringle stood on the steps of the inn, and the broken snatches of conversation which he overheard did not help to cheer or inspirit him: he would have taken little or no heed of the idle talk floating in and out of the door had he felt merely a professional interest in this woman; but he had just left her; he had been with her for nearly an hour, and although few words had passed between them in that time, the spell of her physical beauty had reasserted itself, and his chivalry was up in arms for her.