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Updated: June 8, 2025
There was something unusually cynical in his smile, but it conveyed more than cynical amusement to Brent. There was in it the suggestion of assurance Krevin, decided Brent, had something up his sleeve. But the other people present were still intent on the old antiquary. Having come to the end of his explanation he was passing back the chart to Meeking, and seemed satisfied with what he had said.
It never occurred to me before, but during that time my missis may have been out of the place for a few minutes or so, to fetch the supper beer, sir." "To be sure! Now where does Mrs. Bunning get your supper beer?" "At the Chancellor Vaults, sir round the corner." Meeking turned quietly to the Coroner. "I think we ought to have Mrs. Bunning's evidence," he remarked.
The Coroner glanced at Hawthwaite, who since the opening of the Court had sat near Meeking, occasionally exchanging whispered remarks. "Let Dr. Wellesley see that fragment," he said. All eyes were fixed on the witness as he took the piece of charred and faintly stained stuff in his hands and examined it.
"Well," said Meeking, when a murmur of excited feeling had once more run round the court, "a more particular question, Mr. Nettleton. Did the late Mayor ever come to your office in the course of his investigations?" "He did, frequently. Not that I had much to show him. But he carefully examined all the books and papers of which I was in possession." "Did he make notes?"
Winifred Wilson; twenty years of age; housemaid at Dr. Wellesley's been in the doctor's employ about fourteen months. "Did you give certain information to the police recently?" inquired Meeking, going straight to his point as soon as these preliminaries were over. "Information bearing on the matter now being inquired into?" "Yes, sir," replied the witness in a low voice.
Mallett, in Brent's opinion, looked precisely the sort of lady to have her say, and to have it right out. She was calm enough now, and when she had taken the oath and told her questioner formally who she was, she faced him with equanimity. Meeking, somewhat uncertain of his ground, took his cue from the witness's dramatic intervention. "Mrs. Mallett, did you call on Dr.
"You mean directly?" Meeking threw a good deal of significance into this question, which he put slowly, and with a peculiarly meaning glance at his witness. But Wellesley either did not see or affected not to see any significance, and his answer came promptly: "I mean precisely what I say as I always do." Meeking leaned across the table, eyeing Wellesley still more closely.
Meeking, however, wanted more. "To the Moot Hall!" he repeated. "Well, Dr. Pellery, and where does this passage emerge in the Moot Hall?" "Just so," said Dr. Pellery. "That, of course, is important. Well, the wall or arch between St.
Pleasant-like, sir." "I see! Had Mr. Krevin Crood any papers in his hand?" "He had papers in his hand, sir, or under his arm." "And that was just after eight o'clock?" "The clocks had just struck it, sir." Meeking nodded his dismissal of Mrs. Spizey. It was plain that he was getting near the end of his case and his manner became sharp and almost abrupt. "Call Detective-Sergeant Welton," he said.
All the time except for the two or three minutes spent in going to the Mayor's Parlour." "Talking to Dr. Wellesley?" "Of course! What do you suppose I went for?" "That's just what I want to find out!" retorted Meeking, with a glance that took in the audience, now all agog with excitement. "Will you tell us, Mrs. Mallett?" Mrs.
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