jurors at the inquest."

That was a sobering thought. Elkin subsided, and Hobbs looked critically
at the remains of a gill of beer.

Ingerman took stock of the chemist. He might easily induce the others to
believe that Grant was the real criminal, but the quiet man in the black
morning-coat and striped cloth trousers was of finer metal. He knew
instantly that if he could persuade this one "probable juror" of Grant's
guilt, the remainder would follow his lead like a flock of sheep.

But there was no need to hurry. Next day's inquest would be a mere
formality. The real struggle would begin a week or a fortnight later.

"You have said a very wise thing, sir," he murmured appreciatively. "Even
my feelings must be kept under better control. But this is no ordinary
murder. Before it is cleared up there will be astounding revelations.
Mark the word--astounding."

Hobbs, whose heavy cheeks were of a brick-red tint, almost startled the
conclave by a sudden outburst which gave him an apoplectic appearance.

"You're too kind'earted, Siddle," he cried. "Wot's the use of talkin'
rubbish. We all know where the body was found. We all know that Doris
Martin an' Mr. Grant were a'sweet-'eartin' in the garden--"

"Look here, Hobbs, just keep Doris Martin's name out of it!" shouted
Elkin, smiting the table with his fist till the glasses danced.

"Gentlemen!" protested Siddle gently.