dr. barton, having been sworn, deposed to the fact of deceased having met with his death by violence. his chest had been pierced by some sharp instrument which, in all probability, had penetrated the tissues of the heart; but that was a point as to which he could not speak positively until after the post-mortem examination. death, in that case, would have been all but instantaneous. he had examined the weapon produced and compared it with the wound, which it exactly fitted. in his opinion, there was little doubt that the knife in question was the one with which the fatal blow had been inflicted. there had been a certain amount of hemorrhage from the wound, but scarcely as much as might have been expected--a little on the floor, rather more on the clothes of deceased. death had taken place several hours before he, witness, was called in. he was not prepared to state how many hours before: it might have been five, or it might have been eight or nine; it was impossible to speak with exactitude. the clothes of the deceased were, to a certain extent, disarranged. his vest was unbuttoned, the ends of his cravat were hanging loose, his collar had been violently wrenched from the button which had held it, and the wristband of one sleeve of his shirt had been nearly torn away--all indicative of a struggle, however brief, with his assailant. the idea of suicide was one which had never entered his--witness's--mind; had any such theory been advanced, it would have seemed to him altogether untenable.
when the jury had reassembled after their visit to the bank, dr. barton was recalled, and, in reply to a question by the coroner, stated that, to the best of his belief, and speaking from a merely casual examination, the stains on the floor of the office usually occupied by mr. brancker and mr. judd had been caused by blood.
john brancker was then recalled. in answer to various questions, some of which were put by the coroner, some by the jury, and some by mr. prestwich, he deposed as under:
he left the office about nine o'clock, without having seen mr. hazeldine after his return from london, although he had understood from sweet that he was at work in his office. when he, witness, left the office, mr. judd was still there. all the other clerks had gone before. on quitting the bank, he went straight home and did not stir out again till past ten o'clock. he then decided to go and call upon william strong, the man who blew the organ bellows for him at church. he had heard that strong was ill, and he wanted to ascertain whether he would be well enough to attend to his duties on sunday next. he had hardly left home when a few drops of rain began to fall, and he then remembered that he had left his umbrella at the bank, and determined to call there and get it. on his way to the bank he encountered mr. judd, whom he told what he was going to do. on reaching the bank he saw that mr. hazeldine's office windows were still lighted up. this did not surprise him, knowing, as he did, that mr. hazeldine often worked till a late hour. having let himself in with his pass-key, he went into the inner room and there found his umbrella in the corner where he had left it. he found it in the dark. he did not go near mr. hazeldine, but left the bank at once without seeing anyone, and went on his way towards strong's cottage.
being requested to continue his narrative, and relate what happened afterwards, witness went on to say that on reaching strong's cottage, although there was a light in one of the windows, no one came in response to his repeated knocking, and that at length he went away, convinced that strong was not at home. as there seemed no likelihood of more rain, the moon being now shining, he determined to return by way of the foot-path through the meadows by the river this would take him quite a mile out of his way, but that did not matter as he was in no hurry to reach home. as he was walking through the fields, he heard the sounds of a man and woman quarrelling. as the man seemed to be ill-using the woman, he went a little out of his road to ascertain what was the matter. on coming up to the pair he remonstrated with the man for his behavior, when both he and the woman turned upon him, and demanded to know what right he had to interfere between husband and wife. so enraged was the woman, that she took up a stone and flung it at him, hitting him over the left eye. for a few moments he felt stunned, and by the time he had recovered himself, both the man and the woman had disappeared. st. mary's clock was striking midnight as he opened the garden gate of his own house.
in reply to a question by the coroner, witness stated that, in company with mr. mace, he had visited the strong room. he had found the door of the bullion safe open, and from the cursory examination, which was all he had yet had time to make, he had no doubt that gold and notes to the amount of between three and four thousand pounds, together with the twelve hundred pounds' worth of change, had been abstracted from the coffers of the bank.
"am i to understand, mr. brancker," asked the coroner, "that you know nothing whatever as to the origin of the bloodstains on the floor of your office, nor of the marks of a similar kind scattered about the contents of your drawer?"
"i know nothing of them whatever, sir, and i was never more surprised in my life than when i saw them there this morning."
"i presume that you locked your drawer before leaving it last evening?"
"to the best of my recollection i did."
"and you found it locked on your arrival this morning?"
"i certainly did. to me the whole affair is utterly inexplicable."
at this juncture, who should shoulder his way into the room but william strong, the man mr. brancker had been so anxious to see the previous evening. mr. mace recognized him, and whispered to the coroner, and next moment, greatly to his surprise, strong was summoned by name out of the crowd, and sworn by the coroner's clerk.
"have you any objection to tell the court where you were last evening between the hours of half-past ten and half-past eleven?" queried the coroner.
"i was at home, sir. i've been ill, and have not put foot outside the door for four days till this afternoon."
"will you swear to that?"
"of course i will, and my wife will tell you the same thing if you ask her."
"then if you were at home the whole of last evening, as you state, you could scarcely have failed to hear if anyone knocked at your door?"
"of course i couldn't, sir; my house ain't like a gentleman's mansion. there's only four rooms in it altogether."
"mr. brancker has just told us that he knocked at your door some time between ten and eleven last night--that he knocked repeatedly, but that nobody answered his summons."
"there must be a mistake somewhere," said strong, with a puzzled shake of his head. "all i know is that i was never out of the house, and that nobody could have knocked without my hearing them."
"what time did you go to bed last night?"
"at twelve, to the minute--my general time. if i go to bed sooner than that i can't sleep."
"perhaps mr. brancker was mistaken in the house," suggested one of the jury, "and knocked at the wrong door."
"well, sir, i hardly see how that could happen," said strong, with a slow, incredulous smile, "seeing that my little shanty ain't one of a row, but stands all by itself."
john brancker could contain himself no longer. he started to his feet. "do you mean to say, strong," he cried, "that you were never out of the house last evening, and yet that you did not hear me knock?"
"i do mean to say so, mr. brancker, and what i say is the truth, if these are the last words i ever speak."
"why, i knocked half-a-dozen times if i knocked once. i was upwards of ten minutes at your door."
strong could only shake his head. "i can say no more than i've said already," was his answer. "i was never out of the house, and if anybody had knocked i must have heard 'em."
"you may sit down for the present," said the coroner.
"it is incredible, incredible!" muttered john, as he too resumed his seat. his mind was in a whirl. was it possible, he asked himself, that he had only dreamed that he called at strong's cottage, and that he had never been there in reality? but no, that was an impossibility. as well fancy that he had not seen the man and woman quarreling; but there was the bruise on his forehead to prove the reality of that. he looked round the room, and to his excited fancy it seemed that people were already beginning to gaze askance at him. what were the jury whispering about so earnestly? surely--surely, they could not for one moment suspect----! no, that would be at once too horrible and too absurd.
to the best of his belief, strong had sworn to nothing but the truth when he stated that he had never left home during the previous evening, and that it was impossible that mr. brancker could have knocked at his door without his being aware of it. it was what strong believed to be the truth, and yet it was not the whole truth. it was an undoubted fact that he never left the house, but as regards one important feature of the case he had said nothing. he forgot to relate how a certain boon companion of his had called in the course of the evening, bringing with him a bottle of fiery whiskey, and how his friend did not go away till the bottle was empty, leaving strong, who had eaten little food for several days, in a semi-maudlin state of intoxication.
mrs. strong was out at the time, and strong, left alone before a good fire, and rendered drowsy by the fumes of the liquor, was fast asleep in less than five minutes after his friend had left him. he slept for upwards of an hour, only waking up on his wife's return, but of this sleep his memory retained no recollection whatever next morning. he knew that he had taken a little more to drink than was good for him; but, had he been questioned on the point, he would certainly have denied that he had even as much as closed his eyes till after his wife's return.
ephraim judd was recalled by the coroner. he looked very pale and nervous; but the circumstances of the morning were enough to unnerve any man. he wore a black kid glove on his left hand; in his right hand he carried the other glove loose.
"how long did you stay at the office after mr. brancker left you there last evening?"
"certainly not more than twenty minutes."
"you were the last of the officials to leave the bank?"
"the last, except mr. hazeldine."
"you have seen the blood-stains on the floor of the office where you and mr. brancker generally work; you have seen the marks inside the drawer, and the smears outside; have you any knowledge whatever as to how they came there?"
for a moment ephraim's lips twitched curiously, but the answer when it came was clear and distinct.
"i have no knowledge whatever on the point."
"did you see or speak to the deceased at all last evening?"
"i neither saw him, nor spoke to him, after his departure for london the previous forenoon."
"then how do you know that he was at the bank last evening?"
"sweet, the night-watchman, told mr. brancker and me that he had returned; and i saw that his office was lighted up when i left."
"we have been informed that you met mr. brancker accidentally about half-past ten. tell the jury what passed between you and him on that occasion."
witness having given him an account of the interview which tallied with john's account, went on to say that after bidding mr. brancker good-night, he walked as far as the newsroom, and after sitting there for half an hour he went home to bed.
the coroner had one more question to put.
"can you tell the jury of your own knowledge how long mr. brancker remained at the bank after he left you for the purpose of fetching his umbrella?"
again there was a momentary hesitation before the answer came.
"i did not see mr. brancker again after leaving him," was the reply.
the coroner dismissed him with a nod. ephraim squeezed his way through the crowd to a quiet corner, and there wiped his perspiring forehead, and waited while his flurried nerves grew calm again.
scarcely had ephraim judd resumed his seat before mr. edward hazeldine was seen shouldering his way through the crowd at the lower end of the room. people made way for him readily, and he became at once the focus of a hundred eyes. he looked very pale, but the hard, resolute expression of his face was in nowise changed.
"i am sorry to have been obliged to send for you, mr. hazeldine," said the coroner, "but as you were one of the last persons who saw your father alive, i shall require a little formal evidence from you in order to complete the depositions, as far as it is possible to do so today."
"i am entirely at your service," said mr. hazeldine, who was then sworn in the usual way.
his evidence simply went to prove that deceased had seemed to be in his usual health and spirits on his return from london the previous evening; that he mentioned the fact of his having been to town to obtain the requisite gold for the bank's requirements on the morrow; and that he also informed witness of his intention to work late at the office.
"pardon the question," said the coroner, "but does it not strike you as somewhat strange that mrs. hazeldine should not have noticed the fact of her husband's non-arrival at home, and have been alarmed thereby, and have at once caused inquiry to be made?"
"there is nothing strange about it when it comes to be explained," said witness. "the fact is, when my father worked late at the office he usually slept on a little camp-bed in his dressing-room. this was to avoid disturbing my mother, who, as a rule, retires for the night at any early hour. if my mother woke up in the course of last night, or early this morning, she would naturally conclude that my father had let himself into the house by means of his latch-key, and had gone to bed in the other room."
there being no more witnesses to examine, the coroner announced that the inquiry would be adjourned for a week, so as to allow time for a post-mortem examination to be made, and also to enable the police to follow up their investigations into an affair which, the more it was looked into, the more mysterious it seemed to become.
