Lemby had some difficulty in speaking freely, and hesitated so pointedly that Purse impatiently assisted him. "Are you going to tell me who is the criminal?"

"No," said Lemby, promptly, and now speaking readily enough. "I was about to say that I believe it was a case of suicide."

The sergeant expressed his surprise. "Suicide, when Mrs. Vence saw the assassin bending over his victim? Ridiculous!"

"It may be ridiculous, or it may not be," replied the buccaneer, doggedly; "but from what I know of Wyke, he was in no danger from anyone. Who the man is that Mrs. Vence saw I don't know. But Wyke might have killed himself and the man might have been bending over his body to afford succour."

"Ridiculous," replied the sergeant. "If the strange man was innocent he would scarcely have fled. His flight on the bicycle proves his guilt. Besides, what reason had Wyke to commit suicide?"

"What reason had he to postpone his marriage and come down to this dismal place?" demanded Lemby, sourly. "You are asking me questions which I cannot answer. Evidently, although I did not know it, there was some secret in Wyke's life which made him act so strangely and drove him to suicide."

"I don't believe for one moment that he committed suicide," persisted Purse, after a pause, and remembering how Mrs. Vence had been engaged to hold her tongue; "but he evidently came down here to escape the man who slew him."

"He might have done so, sergeant." Lemby made a gesture, as if brushing aside the whole subject. "Anyhow it is a sore blow to me and to my daughter."

"To you, no doubt, Mr. Lemby, as you lose the gratification of seeing your daughter bearing a title. But, if she loves young Craver, as you hint, I think she will be glad that Wyke is gone."

"Perhaps. She's dashed obstinate. Anyhow, from what I have told you, sergeant, you must see how absurd it is to suspect me."

"I don't suspect you at all," cried Purse, rising. "When you are examined at the inquest you will no doubt be able to explain more."

"I can't explain more than I have already done." growled Lemby, sullenly. "Is not my explanation satisfactory?"

"Yes. I think it is. From the evidence given by Mrs. Vence, you did not come down the stairs until the man was dead."

"That policeman of yours can back up that statement," said Lemby, eagerly, "and, of course, Mrs. Vence saw the assassin."

"Hullo!" Purse turned sharply at the door, "I thought you believed it was a case of suicide."

"It was merely an idea," protested the other.

"A very silly idea," retorted the sergeant, and took his departure, leaving Mr. Lemby to his own thoughts, which were those of disappointment, as he would never see his daughter Lady Wyke.

During the twenty-four hours which elapsed before the inquest the sergeant walked round Hedgerton, asking innumerable questions and noting down innumerable answers. He learnt all about Sir Hector's way of living, how he kept very much to himself, walked out alone, spoke to no one, and remained indoors as a rule. He inquired at the post-office, and discovered that the baronet had received but few letters, newspapers, and parcels, which were generally redirected from his town residence. Wyke evidently had made no secret of his stay in Hedgerton, and in no way could Purse find that he was in hiding. The man had come down, so it was supposed, for the sake of the Hedgerton air, and had taken Maranatha on the three months' lease. Therefore, it might be supposed that, had he not been killed he would have returned to London at the expiration of that period to resume his ordinary life. From Mrs. Vence's hint that she had been engaged to hold her tongue it would appear that there was some mystery in the baronet's life; but no mystery could be discovered in spite the sergeant's persistent questioning. He left off as wise as he was when he began.

Purse also called to see the Rector and his wife, ostensibly to ask if they knew anything about the gentleman who had come to reside in the parish, but really to learn what he could of young Craver. The intimation of Lemby that his daughter loved the young man, and that he wished to marry her, gave Purse the idea that rivalry might be the cause of the tragedy. But on inquiry the sergeant learnt that Craver came down to see his parents only now and then at a weeks'-end and had not been in Hedgerton at the time, that his rival in love was killed. Moreover, it appeared that the young man had not spoken about Miss Lemby to his father or mother, and they were quite surprised to hear that he had any intention of marrying. In fact, Mrs. Craver, was indignant when she heard the story told by Mr. Lemby, and said that Edwin would certainly have told her had he been in love. She admitted, as did the Rector, that Edwin knew Wyke, but insisted that he knew him merely as an acquaintance. If he had been a rival, as the Rector's wife declared her son would assuredly have spoken against him, whereas he only mentioned him indifferently when questioned. But, as Purse pointed out, if young Craver kept his wooing of Miss Lemby secret from his parents, he would scarcely have talked about the man she was being forced to marry. The sergeant left the rectory with a feeling of disappointment. So far as he could gather from the frank speech of Mr. and Mrs. Craver, their son had nothing to do with the crime.

The inquest took place in the Entertainment Hall--that shabby building with the roof of galvanised iron, which was on the esplanade. Sergeant Purse stated all that he knew, which was little enough, and terminated his evidence with the surprising information that a telegram had arrived from the Waking police-office saying that the bicycle had been found. The constable who had found it would appear in due course to relate how it had been discovered. But, as the sergeant added, there was no trace to be found of the man who had stolen the same. This announcement caused some excitement, as there appeared a chance of getting at the truth, but, on the whole, Purse's statement caused prosaic, and his evidence was anything but sensational.

Mrs. Vence was then questioned, and repeated her story much in the same words as she had used when telling it to Jervis and his superior officer.

From her evidence the jury gathered that she had been engaged by Sir Hector, who told her to do her work and hold her tongue. She had come down a few days before her master had taken over Maranatha from Pedder, the caretaker, so as to put it in order. The Coroner, weary of hearing nothings, pointedly asked her why Wyke had requested her to hold her tongue.

"He didn't ask me to hold my tongue," said Mrs. Vence, tartly. "He asked me if I could hold my tongue; and that's a different pair of shoes."

"Well, and why did he?"

"How should I know? I never was one to chatter; and there wasn't anything to chatter about, so far as I could see. I did my work, and he read and walked and slept, seeing no one, and keeping silent."

"He saw no one save Mr. Lemby and the man who escaped on the bicycle?"

"You're right there, if ever you was right in your life," was Mrs. Vence's reply.

"Did he expect Mr. Lemby?"

"No, he didn't. He was quite surprised when he came unexpected, as you might say. But he told me to show him into the drorin'-room, and went up himself to have a chat."

"And the second visitor?'

"Oh, he expected him," said the witness, with emphasis, "for I heard him say, friendly-like: 'Oh, you've come!' or something like that. He took him into the study when he came, flying down the stairs at the ring. Then--"

Here Mrs. Vence went on to repeat how she had been sent to the kitchen to return later with cake and wine. Afterwards she related what had occurred until the arrival of Hall and the escape of the presumed criminal.

"Did you hear any noise of quarrelling while you were in the kitchen?"

"No. I didn't. The kitchen's too far off."

The Coroner asked other questions, and received more or less satisfactory answers, as Mrs. Vence seemed anxiously eager to be frank. But, curiously enough, no mention was made of the missing letter left by Hall. Either Purse had not told the Coroner about this, or it had slipped his memory. Finally Mrs. Vence left the witness-box to give place to Mr. Oliver Lemby.

He stated that he was a colonial from Australia, and had come to England with his daughter three years ago. Having money, he had taken his daughter into society, and there she had met the deceased, who had proposed marriage. Witness frankly said that he approved of the marriage, as Wyke was titled and wealthy, and, his daughter, on these advantages being pointed out to her, was willing enough to do what she was told. The marriage day was duly fixed, and then Sir Hector, for no apparent reason, postponed the same and came down to live at Hedgerton. Lemby stated how he had procured the address from Edwin Craver, who had heard from his parents that Wyke was staying in the parish, and related how he had come down on the night of the murder to force Sir Hector to give an explanation. The rest of his evidence was much the same as he had told Purse.

"So that's all I know," said the witness, fiercely. "My address is Tenby Mansions, Earl's Court, and you can find me there any dashed time you like. I am not afraid."

"There is no reason that I can see why you should be afraid," said the Coroner, rather coldly. "You have given your evidence frankly enough. But I ask you if you heard any noise or quarrelling while you were in the drawing-room?"

"No, I did not. Had I done so I should have come down at once, as I never object to being in a row."

"Did Sir Hector ever tell you that he was in danger of death?"

"Never. I should have dashed well protected him had he said that. I wanted him to marry my daughter, and not to die in this infernal silly way."

Afterwards the postman gave his evidence, saying he had knocked twice at the door of Maranatha, and that at the second knock the door had suddenly been opened, then a man had dashed out to disappear on the bicycle into the fog. He also said that he had left the letter on the hall table; but the Coroner did not take much notice of this statement, little thinking how important it was.

Jervis followed, and related all that he knew, which mainly was a repetition of what Sergeant Purse had said.

Then the doctor stepped into the witness-box. In his evidence he said that a post-mortem examination had revealed the fact that deceased had suffered from cancer.

"Ah!" said the Coroner, quickly, "that is a disease impossible to cure. Do you think. Dr. Quin, that deceased may have taken his own life on that account?"

"No," said the doctor, positively, "such a weak old man could not have delivered so violent a blow. The knife was buried up to the hilt in his heart, and had to pierce through a starched shirt-front and a quilted jacket, both of which would have broken the force of the blow. The body was clothed in a smoking-suit, if you remember, sir."

"Then you don't think that Sir Hector committed suicide?"

"No. I am quite certain that he did not."

The final witness was the police officer who had arrived from Waking. It appeared that the red bicycle had been found in the stable of Jonas Sorley, who had come to the police-office to confess this. Sorley was a carrier, and saw the advertisement about the bicycle in the newspapers. Therefore, he had communicated with the police. Sorley, being ill, could not come to the inquest, but the officer brought his sworn deposition.

From this it appeared that on the night when the crime was committed at Hedgerton Sorley was jogging along in his cart from Bethley to Waking, some twenty miles away. When he left Bethley there was no bicycle in his cart, but when he arrived at Waking there was.

"The bicycle of Hall, the postman?" asked the Coroner.

"Yes, sir. It's the same number. But Sorley cannot say how the bicycle came to be in his cart. It was nearly midnight when he arrived at Waking."

This unsatisfactory statement completed the evidence, and there was nothing for it but that the jury should bring in an open verdict, which they accordingly did. Everyone agreed with this but the buccaneer, who insisted to Sergeant Purse, when the proceedings were over, that the escaped man was the assassin, and should be directly accused.

"But we don't know his name, so how can a verdict be given against him?" was the sergeant's reply. "An open verdict is sufficient. We can search for the man, and when we find him we can hang him."

"Yes, when you find him," jeered Lemby, contemptuously. "You'll never find him!"