Tom Brown's Body

went very pale when he saw her come in, but to his relief she did not appear to notice him, and by the time he had to give his evidence he was so anxious to make a good impression that he had forgotten all about her.

The proceedings began in formal style with the assembled company standing up at the instigation of the Coroner's officer. This ceremony was followed by the official call-over of the jury. There were eleven of these and they were sworn in rapidly and efficiently. After this they sat down, very uncomfortably for the most part, in the schoolchildren's desks facing the Coroner's dais.

The Coroner then addressed them. He informed them that only a few witnesses would be called, and these in order that the body of Gerald Aloysius Hugo Conway might be buried.

He outlined, after this, such facts as the police did not object to having made public. The body of Gerald Aloysius Hugo Conway had been discovered outside a cottage just within the boundaries of Spey School. It was obvious that death was unlikely to have been from natural causes. Mr Wyck, the Headmaster of Spey, would be the first witness.

'Your name is Esme Christopher Wyck? You live at Spey School? You are the Headmaster of that School?'

Mr Wyck gravely and quietly replied in the affirmative to these three questions.

'You have seen the body? You identify it as the body of Gerald Conway? Will you tell the Court when you last saw him alive?'

'I cannot answer that with any exactness,' said Mr Wyck, 'but I think it would have been in the School chapel at about half-past nine on the previous morning, that is, on the twenty-third of October.'

'When did you see him next?'

'At about a quarter to eight on the morning of October the twenty-fourth. He was then, I thought, dead.'

'Did you have subsequent reason to revise that opinion?'

'Unfortunately, no.'

'Any questions?' said the Coroner to the jury. There were no questions. Mr Wyck sat down, and Mr Kay was called. He described the finding of the body. He was not questioned; this seemed to surprise him, for he retired reluctantly. Mr Semple followed, and corrobated Kay's evidence.

Then came Dr Neilson. His evidence was interesting if only because it disposed of rumour, although all the rumours added together approximated to the truth.

The doctor agreed that his name and address were as the Coroner stated, and he agreed, too, that in addition to being in what was still called private practice he was the police doctor, the School doctor, and honorary physician and surgeon to the local football club. He then gave his evidence. The body of Gerald Conway had been dead for about four hours when he examined it. Pressed closely, he amended this to between three and five hours. Death had been brought about by drowning. The marks on the neck were undoubtedly caused by a rope, and there was a superficial head wound, but both these injuries together had been insufficient to have caused death.

The police evidence was short and simple. It was obvious that the body had been removed from the water and had been taken to the spot where it was found. The rope had been removed from the neck. There was no sign of the rope in the vicinity of the body. There was no sign, either, of any instrument which could have caused the scalp wound.

The Coroner's jury had no hesitation in coming to the conclusion that Conway had been murdered by a person or persons unknown.

*

'Queer business,' said Doctor Neilson to his wife and their guest, when they were home again after the inquest. 'What did you make of it, Mrs Bradley?'

'Nothing much,' replied the saurian visitor amiably. 'What did you?'

'I can't make head or tail of it. I can't see, for one thing, why the body was moved. Why not have left it in the water? Surely it was a very risky thing to have pulled it out and taken it into the School grounds? I can't see any sense in that.'

'It depends where the water was, doesn't it? Perhaps if we knew where the drowning occurred we should know why the body had to be moved.'

'You say 'had to be moved'. You think it was essential to the murderer's safety? Yes, that seems the explanation. But I know of no water near here deep enough to drown a man except the river, although that's not far from the School, of course.'

'There is poor old Mr Loveday's Roman Bath,' said his wife.

'Oh, but –' The doctor laughed and shook his head. 'You're not going to tell me that that diffident old ass killed a man of Conway's youth and strength!'

'No, of course not. I only meant that the Bath has water in it deep enough to drown in.'

'That is very interesting,' remarked Mrs Bradley. 'I should like to see this Bath. I am acquainted with Mr Wyck. I wonder whether I could persuade him to show me over the School? The trouble is that he probably doesn't want visitors until this matter is cleared up. I shall await my opportunity.'

That afternoon she went off to Mrs Harries's cottage. The blind crone was seated in her kitchen counting onions. Mrs Bradley opened the front door and announced herself.

'Come through,' called Mrs Harries. 'I was passing the time until you came.'

'You expected me, then?'

'Yes, indeed I did. You went to an inquest this morning.'

'Who told you?'

'Milking Meg.'

'Indeed? And did she tell you what was said there?'

'She told me of drowning and dragging, of cock-fighting, bear-baiting, and rabbit-coursing.'

'Talking of cocks,' said Mrs Bradley quickly, 'who is Mr Kay's enemy? Whom does he propose to kill?'

'That's my dark gentleman. He has named no names. He had the sheep's heart of me, and I told him where to buy the loaf of wax. My own black-headed pins he had, and that's all I know. Their quarrels are none of my business. It's only their silver I ask.'

She refused to say more, but went on mumblingly counting her onions until Mrs Bradley left the house. At the gate Mrs Bradley looked back. The witch was standing in the front doorway mopping and mowing like an idiot. Then she straightened up and ran her thin talons through her grey hair until it stood up all over her head.

'I wonder what she does know?' thought Mrs Bradley; and she repeated the observation that evening in describing the scene to the doctor and his wife. But, neither of them could enlighten her.

'She's a queer old party,' said the doctor unnecessarily. 'And she's cured some of my patients who did not respond to the recognized methods of treatment. There's something uncanny about her. She's an educated woman, for one thing, although occasionally she chooses to talk like the villagers, or else in some gibberish of her own.'

'She's been on the stage,' said Mrs Bradley.

'I loathe and detest her,' said the doctor's wife. 'She foments mischief in the village. The vicar's wife has told me more than once of quarrels which she's blown into flame so that she can sell her magical rubbish. Some years ago the vicar had to deal with an outbreak of devil-worship, and it was all traced back to her. And do you know how it began? – all because they wouldn't put her vegetable marrow in the most prominent place at the Harvest Festival!'

'I wish I knew why Mr Kay goes to her cottage. I think I must ask him,' said Mrs Bradley. This she did that same evening. She walked the two miles from the doctor's house to Kay's cottage and tapped at the door. She knew that someone was in, for she could see the light in the window, but some moments passed before the door was opened.

Mr Kay himself stood there.

'Who is it?' he asked nervously. Mrs Bradley cackled, and he shrank back. 'You?' he said.

'If you mean Mrs Harries, no,' Mrs Bradley replied; and at the sound of her voice he came forward again, and peered at her hesitantly.

'What do you want?' he enquired.

'I am making a regional survey of village superstitions,' said Mrs Bradley, poking a large black notebook almost into his eye. 'And as I have seen you at Mrs Harries's cottage, I thought you might be able to help me.'