The younger Thaneford favored us with a short nod and an unintelligible word, and demanded of Effingham a full pot of coffee, strong and hot. I made some obligatory enquiries, in my capacity of host, but my unwelcome guest gave me only the curtest of replies. Nevertheless I felt sufficiently large-minded to make allowances. After all, the man had received two pretty severe blows, in the loss of his inheritance and in the strickening of his father; and it could not be pleasant for him to be accepting my hospitality.
Doctor Marcy waited until Thaneford had finished his breakfast; then he bluntly asked for the holding of an inquest on Francis Graeme's death. "I formally withdraw the medical certificate," he continued, "on the ground that new evidence has come to light."
"What new evidence?" inquired John Thaneford, his beetling eyebrows contracting angrily.
"I'll submit it to your jury," retorted the doctor.
There was no further discussion of the main point. Legally it was for Thaneford alone to decide upon the necessity for an inquest, and for a moment or two I thought he looked disinclined to give in. Then, apparently, he changed his mind. "You don't seem to have much confidence in your own medical opinions," he said nastily. "But I'm as anxious as anybody to ferret out the truth behind this business. And possibly we may get some light upon the making of that remarkable will. I take it that Mr. Hugh Hildebrand will offer no objection." I made no answer to the taunt, and Thaneford went to the telephone to call his jurors together.
It was not until two days later that the members of the jury were finally assembled at the "Hundred." Two of them were neighboring farmers; there were also a couple of small business men from Calverton. The fifth man was a Mr. Chalmers Warriner, a chemist and the head of the experimental department of the Severn Optical Glass Works; and, greatly to my surprise, I was ordered by the coroner to take the sixth and last place in the panel. All of my associates had known Francis Graeme personally, and it was apparent that the unusual circumstance of the holding of the inquest after the interment had aroused curiosity and no small amount of speculation.
By direction of the coroner the body had been exhumed and an autopsy performed. The expert examination had been made by Dr. Clayton Williams of the Johns Hopkins Medical School, and he was the first witness called.
Doctor Williams told the jury that while the wound on the temple might have been sufficient to cause death still he was not prepared to pronounce positively upon the point. In answer to a question from Professor Warriner, Doctor Williams went on to say that the autopsy had revealed a very peculiar condition of the brain—a lesion of most unusual character.
"Not necessarily caused by the blow on the temple?" asked Warriner.
"I do not think so," answered the witness.