The women in the public seats glanced at him
with admiring interest--such a fine-looking young fellow, whispered one
sentimental lady to another, to have set about a poor old gentleman like
Mr. Multenius! And everybody else, from the Coroner to the newspaper
reporter--who was beginning to think he would get some good copy, after
all, that morning--regarded him with attention. Here, at any rate, was the
one witness who had actually found the pawnbroker's dead body.
Lauriston, his colour heightened a little under all this attention,
answered the preliminary questions readily enough. His name was Andrew
Carruthers Lauriston. His age--nearly twenty-two. He was a native of
Peebles, in Scotland--the only son of the late Andrew Lauriston. His
father was a minister of the Free Church. His mother was dead, too. He
himself had come to London about two years ago--just after his mother's
death. For the past few weeks he had lodged with Mrs. Flitwick, in Star
Street--that was his present address. He was a writer of fiction--stories
and novels. He had heard all the evidence already given, including that of
the last witness, Hollinshaw.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89