_Coroner_.--"What do you mean by the door being open?"
_Witness_.--"Weren't locked, sir; closed t' a bit--what you might call ajar, sir. Entered room, put down butts; gen'man were lyin' quiet in bed. Thought 'e were sleepin' an' come downstair. This were 'bout nine. At ten went up agin. Knocked; n' anser. Knocked agin; n' anser. Went into room agin; gen'man still sleepin'. Went to wake 'im an' found 'e were ded. Sung out at onct, an' Mr. Chickles 'e come up."
_Juryman_ (sharp-nosed and inquisitive).--"How was he lying when you saw him first?"
_Witness_.--"Bedclose up t' chin, sir. 'Ands and h'arms inside bedclose; lyin' on back--bedclose smooth like. Know'd 'e were ded by whiteness of 'is face--like chalk, sir--h'awful!"
_Coroner_.--"Are you sure deceased asked you to give him his boots personally next morning?"
_Witness_.--"Yes, sir--said 'e were vury perticler."
_Coroner_.--"Did he seem to you like a man intending to make away with himself?"
_Witness_.--"No, sir. Quite lively like. Sed as 'ow 'e were goin' to look roun' this 'ole nex' day, sir."
_Coroner_ (pompously).--"And what did the deceased mean by the expression 'this hole,' my man?"
_Witness_ (grinning).--"Jarlchester, sir."
Great indignation on the part of the patriotic jury at hearing their native town thus described, and as Boots is still grinning, thinking such remark to be an excellent joke, he is told sharply to stand down, which he does with obvious relief.
The next witness called was Sampson Chickles, the landlord of the "Hungry Man." A fat, portly individual is Mr. Chickles, with a round red face, and a ponderous consciousness that he is the hero of the hour--or rather the minute. "Swear Sampson Chickles!" Which is done by a fussy clerk with a rapid gabble and a dingy Bible--open at Revelations--and Mr. Chickles, being sworn to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, gives his evidence in a fat voice coming somewhere from the recesses of his rotund stomach.
"My name, gentlemen, is Sampson Chickles, and I've lived in Jarlchester, man and boy, sixty years. But I keep my health wonderful, gentlemen, saving a touch of the--"
_Coroner_.--"Will the witness kindly confine himself to the matter in hand?"
_Witness_ (somewhat ruffled).--"Meaning the dead one, I presume, Mr. Carr. Certainly, Mr. Carr; I was coming to that. He--meaning the dead one--came here two days ago by the coach from Winchester. There is, gentlemen, no name on his bag--there is no name on his linen--no letters, no cards in his pockets--not even initials, gentlemen, to prevent his clothes being stolen at the wash. He never mentioned his name, Mr. Carr. I was going to ask him next morning, but he was dead, and therefore, gentlemen, not in a position to speak. As far as I am concerned, Mr. Carr, the dead one has never been christened. The mystery--meaning the dead one--has no name that I ever heard of, and was spoken of by me and my daughter (who may know more than her father) as the gentleman in No. 37. I only spoke to the dead one twice, Mr. Carr and gentlemen; once when I arranged about terms--thirty shillings a week, gentlemen, not including wine--and again when I asked him if he had enjoyed his dinner--soup, fish, fowl, and pudding. Gentlemen, he had enjoyed his dinner."