s an elderly man, about sixty years of age, and about
five feet eight or nine in height; and that his death took place from
eighteen months to two years ago. That is all we know. From the
treatment to which the body has been subjected we may form certain
conjectures as to the circumstances of his death. But we have no actual
knowledge. We do not know who the deceased was or how he came by his
death. Consequently, it will be necessary to adjourn this inquiry until
fresh facts are available, and as soon as that is the case, you will
receive due notice that your attendance is required."

The silence of the Court gave place to the confused noise of moving
chairs and a general outbreak of eager talk, amidst which I rose and
made my way out into the street. At the door I encountered Dr. Summers,
whose dog-cart was waiting close by.

"Are you going back to town now?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered; "as soon as I can catch a train."

"If you jump into my cart I'll run you down in time for the five-one.
You'll miss it if you walk."

I accepted his offer thankfully, and a minute later was spinning briskly
down the road to the station.

"Queer little devil, that man, Pope," Dr. Summers remarked. "Quite a
character; socialist, labourite, agitator, general crank; anything for a
row."

"Yes," I answered, "that was what his appearance suggested. It must be
trying for the coroner to get a truculent rascal like that on a jury."

Summers laughed. "I don't know. He supplies the comic relief. And then,
you know, those fellows have their uses. Some of his questions were
pretty pertinent."

"So Badger seemed to think."

"Yes, by Jove," chuckled Summers, "Badger didn't like him a bit; and I
suspect the worthy inspector was sailing pretty close to the wind in his
answers."

"You think he really has some private information?"

"Depends upon what you mean by 'information.' The police are not a
speculative body. They wouldn't be taking all this trouble unless they
had a pretty straight tip from somebody. How are Mr. and Miss
Bellingham? I used to know them slightly when they lived here."

I was considering a discreet answer to this question when we swept into
the station yard. At the same moment the train drew up at the platform,
and, with a hurried hand-shake and hastily spoken thanks, I sprang from
the dog-cart and darted into the station.

During the rather slow journey homewards I read over my notes and
endeavoured to extract