But guv'nor--that old lawyer's
making a mistake! You didn't ought to have my bit of evidence at this
stage. It's too soon. You want to work up the case a bit. There's such a
thing, guv'nor, in this world as being a bit previous. This here's too
previous--you want to be surer of your facts. Because you know, guv'nor
nobody'll believe my word agen Squire Greyle's. Guv'nor--this here
inquest'll be naught but a blooming farce! Mark me! You ain't a native o'
this part--I am. D'you think as how a Scarhaven jury's going to say aught
agen its own Squire and landlord? Not it! I say, guv'nor--all a blooming
farce! Mark my words!"
"All the same, you'll come?" asked Copplestone, who was secretly of
Spurge's opinion. "You won't lose by it in the long run."
"Oh, I'll be there," responded Spurge. "Out of curiosity, if for nothing
else. You mayn't see me at first, but, let the lawyer from London call my
name out, and Zachary Spurge'll step forward."
There was abundant cover for Zachary Spurge and for half-a-dozen like him
in the village school-house when the inquest was opened at ten-o'clock
that morning. It seemed to Copplestone that it would have been a physical
impossibility to crowd more people within the walls than had assembled
when the coroner, a local solicitor, who was obviously testy, irritable,
self-important and afflicted with deafness, took his seat and looked
sourly on the crowd of faces.
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