tor--a poor man himself, or he would not
be living in our neighborhood--has subscribed ten shillings toward the
expenses; and the coroner, when the inquest was over, added five more.
Perhaps others may assist me. If not, I have fortunately clothes and
furniture of my own to pawn. And I must set about parting with them
without delay, for the funeral is to be to-morrow, the thirteenth.

The funeral--Mary's funeral! It is well that the straits and
difficulties I am in keep my mind on the stretch. If I had leisure to
grieve, where should I find the courage to face to-morrow?

Thank God they did not want me at the inquest. The verdict given, with
the doctor, the policeman, and two persons from the place where she
worked, for witnesses, was Accidental Death. The end of the cravat was
produced, and the coroner said that it was certainly enough to suggest
suspicion; but the jury, in the absence of any positive evidence, held
to the doctor's notion that she had fainted and fallen down, and so got
the blow on her temple. They reproved the people where Mary worked
for letting her go home alone, without so much as a drop of brandy to
support her, after she had fallen into a swoon from exhaustion before
their eyes. The coroner added, on his own account, that he thought the
reproof was thoroughly deserved. After that, the cravat-end was given
back to me by my own desire, the police saying that they could make no
investigations with such a slight clew to guide them. They may think so,
and the coroner, and doctor, and jury may think so; but, in spite of all
that has passed, I am now more firmly persuaded than ever that there
is some dreadful mystery in connection with that blow on my poor lost
Mary's temple which has yet to be revealed, and which may come to be
discovered through this very fragment of a cravat that I found in her
hand. I cannot give any good reason for why I think so, but I know
that if I had been one of the jury at the inquest, nothing should have
induced me to consent to such a verdict as Accidental Death.

After I had pawned my things, and had begged a small advance of wages
at the place where I work to make up what was still wanting to pay
for Mary's funeral, I thought I might have had a little quiet time to
prepare myself as I best could for to-morrow. But this was not to be.
When I got home the landlord met me in the passage. He was in liquor,
and more brutal and pitiless in his way of looking and speaking than