Hetty was conscious of a sea of curious eyes and white, eager faces. As the days went on public interest in the corner house mystery had not abated. All sorts of vague stories had got about, and in some mysterious way the name of Dr. Gordon Bruce was mixed up in it.

Why he had not been arrested Bruce could not imagine. The tale he had volunteered to Prout and his signature on the back of the notes were almost in themselves enough to hang a man. Perhaps a little private conversation between Prout and Lawrence had had the effect of postponing matters. Bruce was not in the least likely to run away; on the contrary, he had volunteered to give evidence at the adjourned inquest. Hetty also would have something to say that would be in favour of her lover.

"After all, they can\'t definitely say that those notes were ever in the possession of the murdered man," she whispered to Bruce. "He wrote the letter, of course, but they don\'t know he really possessed the notes."

"I am afraid they do," Bruce replied. "They are going to call a cashier from the National Credit Bank who positively identified the deceased as the man who changed ￡400 in gold for notes, part of which notes were numbers 190753 to 190792, or the notes I paid to Capper. That piece of evidence cannot possibly be shaken."

Hetty admitted the fact with a sigh. She had no illusions as to the future. Unless something like a miracle happened Gordon was certain to stand in the dock charged with the murder of a man unknown. Examined in the cold light of day, Gordon Bruce\'s story was an extraordinary one. Hetty was forced to admit that from the lips of a stranger she would not have believed a word of it.

And Gilbert Lawrence now refused to say anything. He was the one person who seemed to be thoroughly satisfied. There was some comfort to be derived from this, but not much, as Hetty told herself miserably.

The inquest was sensational from the very start. After the dead man\'s landlady of the house by the docks and her landlord\'s agent proved the handwriting of the deceased, Sergeant Prout told the story of the missing banknotes. A good few of the packed audience knew Bruce by sight, and as the evidence proceeded he found the scrutiny of so many eyes quite trying.

Even the most guilty when brought to book are not without some feeling of shame, however defiant they may appear, but it is a horrible thing when the innocent has to stand and answer to a criminal charge. A wave of indignation passed over Bruce, to be followed by utter helplessness.

"Courage, dear old boy," Hetty whispered. "It will all come right in the end. Good will come out of this evil."

Bruce shut his teeth tightly and nodded. Still, in Prout\'s evidence he seemed to hear the voice of his judge passing sentence.

Prout concluded his evidence at length, every word of which told dead against the one man seated there. Not half a dozen people in the room would have acquitted him on the criminal charge.

"Do you propose to go any further today?" the coroner asked.

Prout was understood to say no, when Bruce rose. His face was deadly pale, a tiny red spot burning on either cheek. But he had his voice under proper control; there was no look of guilt about him.

"If you have no objection, sir, I should like to give evidence," he said.

The presiding official was decidedly taken aback. He looked at Prout, who made no sign. He was not so prejudiced as most of the people there.

"Really if you will be guided by my opinion you will do nothing of the kind," he said, much as a magistrate might address a prisoner i............