sing had anything peculiar about that finger?"

"Nothing is stated to that effect in the written description," replied
the coroner.

"Perhaps," suggested Pope, "Inspector Badger can tell us."

"I think," said the coroner, "we had better not ask the police too many
questions. They will tell us anything that they wish to be made
public."

"Oh, very well," snapped the cobbler. "If it's a matter of hushing it
up I've got no more to say; only I don't see how we are to arrive at a
verdict if we don't have the facts put before us."

All the witnesses having now been examined, the coroner proceeded to
sum up and address the jury.

"You have heard the evidence, gentlemen, of the various witnesses, and
you will have perceived that it does not enable us to answer either of
the questions that form the subject of this inquiry. We now know that
the deceased was an elderly man, about sixty years of age, and about
five feet eight to 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 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; a socialist, laborite, 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 pe