“Your considered opinion, then, based on the medical facts ascertained by you, is, I understand, that deceased died from the effects of a poison injected into his body by some other person with homicidal intent?”
“Yes; that is my considered opinion, and I affirm that the facts do not admit of any other interpretation.”
The coroner looked towards the jury. “Do any of you gentlemen wish to ask the witness any questions?” he inquired; and when the foreman had replied that the jury were entirely satisfied with the doctor’s explanations, he thanked the witness, who thereupon retired. The medical witness was succeeded by the inspector, who made a short statement respecting the effects found on the person of deceased. They comprised a small sum of money—under two pounds—a watch, keys, and other articles, none of them of any appreciable value, but, such as they were, furnishing evidence that at least petty robbery had not been the object of the attack.
When the last witness had been heard, the coroner glanced at his notes and then proceeded to address the jury.
“There is little, gentlemen,” he began, “that I need say to you. The facts are before you, and they seem to admit of only one interpretation. I remind you that, by the terms of your oath, your finding must be ‘according to the evidence.’ Now the medical evidence is quite clear and definite. It is to the effect that deceased met his death by poison, administered violently by some other person: that is by homicide. Homicide is the killing of a human being, and it may or may not be criminal. But if the homicidal act is done with the intent to kill; if that intention has been deliberately formed—that is to say, if the homicidal act has been premeditated; then that homicide is wilful murder.
“Now the person who killed the deceased came to the place where the act was done provided with a solution of a very powerful and uncommon vegetable poison. He was also provided with a very special appliance—to wit, a hypodermic syringe—for injecting it into the body. The fact that he was furnished with the poison and the appliance creates a strong enough presumption that he came to this place with the deliberate intention of killing the deceased. That is to say, this fact constitutes strong evidence of premeditation.
“As to the motive for this act, we are completely in the dark; nor have we any evidence pointing to the identity of the person who committed that act. But a coroner’s inquest is not necessarily concerned with motives, nor is it our business to fix the act on any particular person. We have to find how and by what means the deceased met his death; and for that purpose we have clear and sufficient evidence. I need say no more, but will leave you to agree upon your finding.”
There was a brief interval of silence when the coroner had finished speaking. The jury whispered together for a few seconds; then the foreman announced that they had agreed upon their verdict.
“And what is your decision, gentlemen?” the coroner asked.
“We find,” was the reply, “that deceased met his death by wilful murder, committed by some person unknown.”
The coroner bowed. “I am in entire agreement with you, gentlemen,” said he. “No other verdict was possible, and I am sure you will join me in the hope that the wretch who committed this dastardly crime may be identified and in due course brought to justice.”
This brought the proceedings to an end. As the Court rose the spectators filed out of the building and the coroner approached Miss D’Arblay to express once more his deep sympathy with her in her tragic bereavement. I stood apart with Miss Boler, whose rugged face was wet with tears, but set in a grim and wrathful scowl.
“Things have taken a terrible turn,” I ventured to observe.
She shook her head and uttered a sort of low growl. “It won’t bear thinking of,” she said gruffly. “There is no possible retribution that would meet the case. One has thought that some of the old punishments were cruel and barbarous, but if I could lay my hands on the villain that did this—” She broke off, leaving the conclusion to my imagination, and in an extraordinarily different voice said: “Come, Miss Marion, let us get out of this awful place.”
As we walked away slowly and in silence, I looked at Miss D’Arblay, not without anxiety. She was very pale, and the dazed expression that her face had borne on the fatal day of the discovery had, to some extent, reappeared. But now the signs of bewilderment and grief were mingled with something new. The rigid face, the compressed lips, and lowered brows spoke of a deep and abiding wrath.
Suddenly she turned to me and said, abruptly, almost harshly:
“I was wrong in what I said to you before the inquiry. You remember that I said that the circumstances of the loss could make no difference; but they make a whole world of difference. I had supposed that my dear father had died as he had thought he would die; that it was the course of Nature, which we cannot rebel against. Now I know, from what the doctor said, that he might have lived on happily for the full span of human life but for the malice of this unknown wretch. His life was not lost; it was stolen—from him and from me.”
“Yes,” I said somewhat lamely. “It is a horrible affair.”
“It is beyond bearing!” she exclaimed. “If his death had been natural, I would have tried to resign myself to it. I would have tried to put my grief away. But to think that his happy, useful life has been snatched from him—that he has been torn from us who loved him by the deliberate act of this murderer—it is unendurable. It will be with me every hour of my life until I die. And every
