“Certainly not; neither was the bruise upon the forehead, which had, no doubt, been caused by the fall upon the gravel. The heart was perfectly normal, and we failed utterly to detect anything that would result fatally. The contents of the stomach have been analysed by Dr Adams, of the Home Office, at the instigation of the police, I believe.”
“Then, as far as you are concerned, you are unable to determine the cause of death?”
“Quite. It is a mystery.”
The next witness was a thin, white-haired, dapper little man, who, in reply to questions, explained that he was analyst to the Home Office, and had, at the request of the police, submitted the contents of the deceased’s stomach to analysis, the position of the hands pointing to a slight suspicion of poison.
“And what have you discovered?” inquired the Coroner, the Court being so silent that the proverbial pin, if it had been dropped at that moment, might have been heard.
“Nothing,” he answered clearly. “There was no sign of anything of a deleterious nature whatsoever. The deceased was certainly not poisoned.”
The assembly of excited townspeople again shifted uneasily, as it was wont to do after every important reply which might elucidate the mystery. It seemed as though a rumour had been circulated that Dudley had been poisoned, and this declaration of the renowned analyst set at rest for ever that wild, unfounded report. People turned to one another, whispering excitedly, and a shadow of disappointment rested upon their inquisitive countenances. They had expected it to be pronounced a case of murder, whereas it would now be proved that death had occurred from some natural but sudden and unknown cause.
“Then you have no opinion to offer as to the cause of death!” the Coroner exclaimed.
“None whatever,” was the reply, and that concluded the analyst’s important testimony.
The foreman of the jury expressed a wish to put a question to Ella, and a few moments later she stood where I had stood, and removing her glove, took the oath with trembling voice.