She did not look at all the sort of Londoner who goes to an inquest--there are many such--just for the fun of the thing.

Approvingly, for he was a widower, he noted her neat black coat and skirt; and the plain Princess bonnet which framed her pale, refined face.
"I'm going to the Coroner's Court myself." he said good-naturedly.
"So you can come along of me.

You see there's that big Avenger inquest going on to-day, so I think they'll have had to make other arrangements for--hum, hum--ordinary cases." And as she looked at him dumbly, he went on, "There'll be a mighty crowd of people at The Avenger inquest--a lot of ticket folk to be accommodated, to say nothing of the public." "That's the inquest I'm going to," faltered Mrs.Bunting.She could scarcely get the words out.

She realised with acute discomfort, yes, and shame, how strange, how untoward, was that which she was going to do.

Fancy a respectable woman wanting to attend a murder inquest! During the last few days all her perceptions had become sharpened by suspense and fear.