reports about the harvest, the markets, and those small offenders whose peccadilloes furnish the material for Justice to exercise her might upon at petty sessions.
Every one had read about that strange death of a lonely girl in the summer sunset. Every one was interested in a fate so melancholy—an abandonment so inexplicable.
"I thought that there was hardly ever a human being so isolated as to be owned by no one," said the curate of Wadebridge. "Yet it would seem that this poor girl had no one to care for her in life, or to identify her after death. If she had one friend living in England or France, surely that person must have made some sign before now."
"People in France are very slow to hear about anything that happens in England," replied Dr. Menheniot, to whom the curate had been talking.
"But I heard Mr. Heathcote, at the first inquiry, say that he meant to advertise in a Parisian newspaper."
"Then be sure the advertisement appeared," answered Menheniot. "Heathcote is one of those few men with whom meaning and doing are the same thing."
The inquiry dragged its slow length along, and hardly one new fact was elicited. There was a great deal of repetition, in spite of the Coroner's attempt to keep all his witnesses to the point. Mr. Distin sat near the Coroner, and asked a few questions of two or three of the witnesses; and though he elicited no actually new facts, he seemed to put things in a clearer light by his cross-examination.
Just before the close of the inquiry, he said:
"I see Mr. Grahame, of Penmorval, is here this afternoon. I should like to ask him a question or two, if you have no objection."
The Coroner paled ever so slightly at this suggestion, but he had no objection to offer: so Bothwell Grahame was asked to come up to the table, and kiss the Book, which he did with a somewhat bewildered air, as if the thing came upon him as an unpleasant surprise.
"You were in the train that evening, I believe, Mr. Grahame," said Distin.
"I was."
"Were you alone, in a compartment, or in company with other passengers?"
"I had a third-class compartment to myself."
"And you saw this girl fall?"
"I saw her fall—but as I saw just a little less than Dr. Menheniot and the guard saw, I don't see the good of my being questioned," answered Bothwell, with rather a sullen air.
"I beg your pardon," returned Mr. Distin suavely, "every witness sees an event from a different point of view. You may
