She was a nice, respectable woman, she was.

She had not come here imbued with any morbid, horrible curiosity, but because she thought it her duty to do so.

He suspected her of being sister-in-law to one of The Avenger's victims.
They walked through into a big room or hall, now full of men talking in subdued yet eager, animated tones.
"I think you'd better sit down here," he said considerately, and, leading her to one of the benches that stood out from the whitewashed walls--"unless you'd rather be with the witnesses, that is." But again she said, "Oh, no!" And then, with an effort, "Oughtn't I to go into the court now, if it's likely to be so full ?" "Don't you worry," he said kindly.

"I'll see you get a proper place.
I must leave you now for a minute, but I'll come back in good time and look after you." She raised the thick veil she had pulled down over her face while they were going through that sinister, wolfish-looking crowd outside, and looked about her.
Many of the gentlemen--they mostly wore tall hats and good overcoats -- standing round and about her looked vaguely familiar.

She picked out one at once.