from their doubtless important avocations, one unseen, mysterious
beckoner had brought all these men here together, to this sordid
place, on this bitterly cold, dreary day. Here they were, all
thinking of, talking of, evoking one unknown, mysterious personality
--that of the shadowy and yet terribly real human being who chose
to call himself The Avenger. And somewhere, not so very far away
from them all The Avenger was keeping these clever, astute, highly
trained minds--aye, and bodies, too--at bay.

Even Mrs. Bunting, sitting here unnoticed, realised the irony of her
presence among them.

CHAPTER XIX

It seemed to Mrs. Bunting that she had been sitting there a long
time--it was really about a quarter of an hour--when her official
friend came back.

"Better come along now," he whispered; "it'll begin soon."

She followed him out into a passage, up a row of steep stone steps,
and so into the Coroner's Court.

The court was big, well-lighted room, in some ways not unlike a
chapel, the more so that a kind of gallery ran half-way round, a
gallery evidently set aside for the general public, for it was now
crammed to its utmost capacity.

Mrs. Bunting glanced timidly towards the serried row of faces. Had
it not been for her good fortune in meeting the man she was now
following, it was there that she would have had to try and make her
way. And she would have failed. Those people had rushed in the
moment the doors were opened, pushing, fighting their way in a way
she could never have pushed or fought.

There were just a few women among them, set, determined-looking
women, belonging to every class, but made one by their love of
sensation and their power of forcing their way in where they wanted
to be. But the women were few; the great majority of those standing
there were men--men who were also representative of every class of
Londoner.

The centre of the court was like an arena; it was sunk two or three
steps below the surrounding gallery. Just now it was comparatively
clear of people, save for the benches on which sat the men who were
to compose the jury. Some way from these men, huddled together in
a kind of big pew, stood seven people--three women and four men.

"D'you see the witnesses?" whispered the inspector, pointing these
out to her. He supposed her to know one of them with familiar
knowledge, but, if that were so, she made no sign.

Between the windows, facing the whole room, was a kind of little