the lodger-第37章

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She　raised　the　thick　veil　she　had　pulled　down　over　her　face　while　they　were　going　through　that　sinister；　wolfish…looking　crowd　outside；　and　looked　about　her。

Many　of　the　gentlemen　…　they　mostly　wore　tall　hats　and　good　overcoats　　…　standing　round　and　about　her　looked　vaguely　familiar。　　She　picked　out　one　at　once。　　He　was　a　famous　journalist；　whose　shrewd；　animated　face　was　familiar　to　her　owing　to　the　fact　that　it　was　widely　advertised　in　connection　with　a　preparation　for　the　hair　…　the　preparation　which　in　happier；　more　prosperous　days　Bunting　had　had　great　faith　in；　and　used；　or　so　he　always　said；　with　great　benefit　to　himself。　　This　gentleman　was　the　centre　of　an　eager　circle；　half　a　dozen　men　were　talking　to　him；　listening　deferentially　when　he　spoke；　and　each　of　these　men；　so　Mrs。　Bunting　realised；　was　a　Somebody。

How　strange；　how　amazing；　to　reflect　that　from　all　parts　of　London；　from　their　doubtless　important　avocations；　one　unseen；　mysterious　beckoner　had　brought　all　these　men　here　together；　to　this　sordid　place；　on　this　bitterly　cold；　dreary　day。　　Here　they　were；　all　thinking　of；　talking　of；　evoking　one　unknown；　mysterious　personality　　…　that　of　the　shadowy　and　yet　terribly　real　human　being　who　chose　to　call　himself　The　Avenger。　　And　somewhere；　not　so　very　far　away　from　them　all　The　Avenger　was　keeping　these　clever；　astute；　highly　trained　minds　…　aye；　and　bodies；　too　…　at　bay。

Even　Mrs。　Bunting；　sitting　here　unnoticed；　realised　the　irony　of　her　presence　among　them。


CHAPTER　XIX

It　seemed　to　Mrs。　Bunting　that　she　had　been　sitting　there　a　long　time　…　it　was　really　about　a　quarter　of　an　hour　…　when　her　official　friend　came　back。

〃Better　come　along　now；〃　he　whispered；　〃it'll　begin　soon。〃

She　followed　him　out　into　a　passage；　up　a　row　of　steep　stone　steps；　and　so　into　the　Coroner's　Court。

The　court　was　big；　well…lighted　room；　in　some　ways　not　unlike　a　chapel；　the　more　so　that　a　kind　of　gallery　ran　half…way　round；　a　gallery　evidently　set　aside　for　the　general　public；　for　it　was　now　crammed　to　its　utmost　capacity。

Mrs。　Bunting　glanced　timidly　towards　the　serried　row　of　faces。　　Had　it　not　been　for　her　good　fortune　in　meeting　the　man　she　was　now　following；　it　was　there　that　she　would　have　had　to　try　and　make　her　way。　　And　she　would　have　failed。　　Those　people　had　rushed　in　the　moment　the　doors　were　opened；　pushing；　fighting　their　way　in　a　way　she　could　never　have　pushed　or　fought。　　　　There　were　just　a　few　women　among　them；　set；　determined…looking　women；　belonging　to　every　class；　but　made　one　by　their　love　of　sensation　and　their　power　of　forcing　their　way　in　where　they　wanted　to　be。　　But　the　women　were　few；　the　great　majority　of　those　standing　there　were　men　…　men　who　were　also　representative　of　every　class　of　Londoner。

The　centre　of　the　court　was　like　an　arena；　it　was　sunk　two　or　three　steps　below　the　surrounding　gallery。　　Just　now　it　was　comparatively　clear　of　people；　save　for　the　benches　on　which　sat　the　men　who　were　to　compose　the　jury。　　Some　way　from　these　men；　huddled　together　in　a　kind　of　big　pew；　stood　seven　people　…　three　women　and　four　men。

〃D'you　see　the　witnesses？〃　whispered　the　inspector；　pointing　these　out　to　her。　　He　supposed　her　to　know　one　of　them　with　familiar　knowledge；　but；　if　that　were　so；　she　made　no　sign。

Between　the　windows；　facing　the　whole　room；　was　a　kind　of　little　platform；　on　which　stood　a　desk　and　an　arm…chair。　　Mrs。　Bunting　guessed　rightly　that　it　was　there　the　coroner　would　sit。　　And　to　the　left　of　the　platform　was　the　witness…stand；　also　raised　considerably　above　the　jury。

Amazingly　different；　and　far；　far　more　grim　and　awe…inspiring　than　the　scene　of　the　inquest　which　had　taken　place　so　long　ago；　on　that　bright　April　day；　in　the　village　inn。　　There　the　coroner　had　sat　on　the　same　level　as　the　jury；　and　the　witnesses　had　simply　stepped　forward　one　by　one；　and　taken　their　place　before　him。

Looking　round　her　fearfully；　Mrs。　Bunting　thought　she　would　surely　die　if　ever　she　were　exposed　to　the　ordeal　of　standing　in　that　curious　box…like　stand；　and　she　stared　across　at　the　bench　where　sat　the　seven　witnesses　with　a　feeling　of　sincere　pity　in　her　heart。

But　even　she　soon　realised　that　her　pity　was　wasted。　　Each　woman　witness　looked　eager；　excited；　and　animated；　well　pleased　to　be　the　centre　of　attention　and　attraction　to　the　general　public。　　It　was　plain　each　was　enjoying　her　part　of　important；　if　humble；　actress　in　the　thrilling　drama　which　was　now　absorbing　the　attention　of　all　London　…　it　might　almost　be　said　of　the　whole　world。

Looking　at　these　women；　Mrs。　Bunting　wondered　vaguely　which　was　which。　　Was　it　that　rather　draggle…tailed…looking　young　person　who　had　certainly；　or　almost　certainly；　seen　The　Avenger　within　ten　seconds　of　the　double　crime　being　committed？　　The　woman　who；　aroused　by　one　of　his　victims'　cry　of　terror；　had　rushed　to　her　window　and　seen　the　murderer's　shadowy　form　pass　swiftly　by　in　the　fog？

Yet　another　woman；　so　Mrs。　Bunting　now　remembered；　had　given　a　most　circumstantial　account　of　what　The　Avenger　looked　like；　for　he；　it　was　supposed；　had　actually　brushed　by　her　as　he　passed。

Those　two　women　now　before　her　had　been　interrogated　and　cross…examined　again　and　again；　not　only　by　the　police；　but　by　representatives　of　every　newspaper　in　London。　　It　was　from　what　they　had　both　said　…　unluckily　their　accounts　materially　differed　…　that　that　official　description　of　The　Avenger　had　been　worked　up　　…　that　which　described　him　as　being　a　good…looking；　respectable　young　fellow　of　twenty…eight；　carrying　a　newspaper　parcel。

As　for　the　third　woman；　she　was　doubtless　an　acquaintance；　a　boon　companion　of　the　dead。

Mrs。　Bunting　looked　away　from　the　witnesses；　and　focused　her　gaze　on　another　unfamiliar　sight。　　Specially　prominent；　running　indeed　through　the　whole　length　of　the　shut…in　space；　that　is；　from　the　coroner's　high　dais　right　across　to　the　opening　in　the　wooden　barrier；　was　an　ink…splashed　table　at　which；　when　she　had　first　taken　her　place；　there　had　been　sitting　three　men　busily　sketching；　but　now　every　seat　at　the　table　was　occupied　by　tired；　intelligent…looking　men；　each　with　a　notebook；　or　with　some　loose　sheets　of　paper；　before　him。

〃Them's　the　reporters；〃　whispered　her　friend。　　〃They　don't　like　coming　till　the　last　minute；　for　they　has　to　be　the　last　to　go。　At　an　ordinary　inquest　there　are　only　two　…　maybe　three　…　attending；　but　now　every　paper　in　the　kingdom　has　pretty　well　applied　for　a　pass　to　that　reporters'　table。〃

He　looked　consideringly　down　into　the　well　of　the　court。　　〃Now　let　me　see　what　I　can　do　for　you　…　〃

Then　he　beckoned　to　the　coroner's　officer：　〃Perhaps　you　could　put　this　lady　just　over　there；　in　a　corner　by　herself？　　Related　to　a　relation　of　the　deceased；　but　doesn't　want　to　be　…　〃　　He　whispered　a　word　or　two；　and　the　other　nodded　sympathetically；　and　looked　at　Mrs。　Bunting　with　interest。　〃I'll　put　her　just　here；〃　he　muttered。　〃There's　no　one　coming　there　to…day。　　You　see；　there　are　only　seven　witnesses　…　sometimes　we　have　a　lot　more　than　that。〃

And　he　kindly　put　her　on　a　now　empty　bench　opposite　to　where　the　seven　witnesses　stood　and　sat　with　their　eager；　set　faces；　ready　　…　aye；　more　than　ready　…　to　play　their　part。

For　a　moment　every　eye　in　the　court　was　focused　on　Mrs。　Bunting；　but　soon　those　who　had　stared　so　hungrily；　so　intently；　at　her；　realised　that　she　had　nothing　to　do　with　the　case。　　She　was　evidently　there　as　a　spectator；　and；　more　fortunate　than　most；　she　had　a　〃friend　at　court；〃　and　；so　was　able　to　sit　comfortably；　instead　of　having　to　stand　in　the　crowd。

But　she　was　not　long　left　in　isolation。　　Very　soon　some　of　the　important…looking　gentlemen　she　had　seen　downstairs　came　into　the　court；　and　were　ushered　over　to　her　seat　while　two　or　three　among　them；　including　the　famous　writer　whose　face　was　so　familiar　that　it　almost　seemed　to　Mrs。　Bunting　like　that　of　a　kindly　acquaintance；　were　accommodated　at　the　reporters'　table。　　　　〃Gentlemen；　the　Coroner。〃

The　jury　stood　up；　shuffling　their　feet；　and　then　sat　down　again；　over　the　spectators　there　fell　a　sudden　silence。

And　then　what　immediately　followed　recalled　to　Mrs。　Bunting；　for　the　first　time；　that　informal　little　country　inq