"Under the
influence of drink and that devil incarnate, Dacre Wynne, a man couldn't
be answerable for--"
"Silence in the Court!" rapped out the coroner, and the good doctor was
forced to obey.
Then the inquiry went on. The prisoner was told to stand down, amid a
chorus of protesting voices, for, though the story was disbelieved,
everyone who had come in contact with Merriton had formed an instant
liking for him. No one wished to see him condemned as guilty--save those
few who seemed determined to send him to the gallows.
Three or four possible witnesses were called, but nothing of any
importance was gleaned from them; then Borkins was summoned to the table.
As he pushed past 'Toinette's chair from the knot of villagers which
surrounded him, his face was white, and his lips compressed. He took his
stand in front of the jury and prepared to answer the questions which
were put to him by the coroner. That man's method seemed to have changed
since his questioning of Sir Nigel and he flung out his queries like a
rapid-fire gun.
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