“Have you got the book here?”

“Yes, sir.”

It was produced; and, with a few words of stern censure, the Coroner dismissed the wretched Mr. Mace.

Then, amidst a breathless silence, Alfred Inglethorp was called. Did he realize, I wondered, how closely the halter was being drawn around his neck?

The Coroner went straight to the point.

“On Monday evening last, did you purchase strychnine for the purpose of poisoning a dog?”

Inglethorp replied with perfect calmness:

“No, I did not. There is no dog at Styles, except an outdoor sheepdog, which is in perfect health.”