account of this interview was fully corroborated by young Smith
"from next door." Jane Smith, who at one time had considered herself
engaged to Paul Baker, had a few tender reminiscences to recount. She
had seen the prodigal once on the boards of the Queen's Theatre,
Lewisham, and she declared that he looked "a perfect gentleman."

The day wore on, or rather the commencement of evening. The
evil-smelling fog from outside had made its home inside the dismal
room. People there only saw one another through a misty veil; the
corners of the room were wrapped in gloom. Exciting as was the story
which had been unfolded this afternoon, one or two among the audience
had given way to sleep. Lady Ducies' feathers nodded ominously, and
the old dame who had munched sandwiches was inclined to give forth an
occasional snore.

Louisa's eyes were aching. Constant watching had tired them; they even
ceased to see clearly. Her brain too had become somnolent. She was
tired of hearing these people talk. From the moment that Jim Baker had
stated that the murdered man was his own son, Louisa had known that he
had spoken the truth. Instinct was guiding her toward the truth,
showing her the truth, wherever possible. She listened at
first--deeply interested--to the scrappy evidence which told of Paul
Baker's early life, but the family from Clapham Junction Road had
marvellously little to relate. They no more understood their
adventurous-spirited son than they would have been capable of aiding
and abetting the fraud which he concocted.

They themselves were far too simple and too stupid to be dangerously
criminal. And so the evidence quickly lost its interest for Louisa.
She herself, with the fragmentary statements which she heard, could
more easily surmise the life history of Paul Baker than could the
doting mother, who retailed complacently every mark on the skin and on
the body of her son, and knew nothing whatever--less than nothing--of
his thoughts, his schemes, of the evil that was in him, and the
ambition which led to his end.

And now the last of the Baker contingent was dismissed. Jane Smith,
the sweetheart of the murdered man, was the last to leave the
coroner's table. She did so in a flood of tears, in which the others
promptly and incontinently joined.

The coroner, somewhat impatient with them all, for their vague notions
on the most important bearings of the case had severely tried him,
adjourned the inquiry until the morrow.