rton and his
companions. Then the foreman of the jury spoke, sullenly.

"We don't want to hear no Ewbanks!" he said. "We're quite satisfied, us
as sits here. Our verdict is--"

"You'll have to bear Ewbank and anybody I like to call, my good sir,"
retorted Petherton quietly. "I am better acquainted with the law than you
are." He turned to the coroner's officer. "I warned you this morning to
produce Ewbank," he said. "Now, where is he?"

Out of a deep silence a shrill voice came from the rear of the crowd.

"Knows better than to be here, does Dan'l Ewbank, mister! He's off!"

"Very good--or bad--for somebody," remarked Petherton, quietly.
"Then--until Mr. Marston Greyle comes--we will call Zachary Spurge."

The assemblage, jurymen included, broke into derisive laughter as Spurge
suddenly appeared from the most densely packed corner of the room, and it
was at once evident to Copplestone that whatever the poacher might say,
no one there would attach any importance to it. The laughter continued
and increased while Spurge was under examination. Petherton appealed to
the coroner; the coroner affected not to hear. And once more the foreman
of the jury interrupted.

"We don't want to hear no more o' this stuff!" he said. "It's an insult
to us to put a fellow like that before us. We don't believe a word o'
what he says. We don't believe he was within a mile o' them ruins on
Sunday afternoon. It's all a put-up job!"

Petherton leaned towards the reporters.

"I hope you gentlemen of the press will make a full note of these
proceedings," he observed suavely. "You at any rate are not biassed or
prejudiced."

The coroner heard that in spite of his deafness, and he grew purple.

"Sir!" he exclaimed. "That is a most improper observation! It's a
reflection on my position, sir, and I've a great mind--"

"Mr. Coroner," observed Petherton, leaning towards him, "I shall hand in
a full report concerning your conduct of these proceedings to the Home
Office tomorrow. If you attempt to interfere with my duty here, all the
worse for you. Now, Spurge, you can stand down. And as I see Mr. Greyle
there--call Marston Greyle!"

The Squire had appeared while Spurge was giving his evidence, and had
heard what the poacher alleged. He entered the box very pale, angry, and
disturbed, and the glances which he cast on Sir Cresswell Oliver and his
party were distinctly those of displeasure.

"Swear him!" commanded Petherton. "Now, Mr. Greyle--