Henry Dunbar (Mystery Classics Series). Mary Elizabeth Braddon
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Название: Henry Dunbar (Mystery Classics Series)
Автор: Mary Elizabeth Braddon
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4057664560063
isbn:
The verger, who was standing amongst the other witnesses, waiting to be examined, here exclaimed —
“Ay, that I did, sir; I remember it well.”
“At what time did you leave the George?”
“At a little after four o’clock.”
“Where did you go then?”
“I went,” answered Mr. Dunbar, boldly, “into the grove with the deceased, arm-in-arm. We walked together about a quarter of a mile under the trees, and I had intended to go on to the Ferns, to call upon Michael Marston’s widow; but my habits of late years have been sedentary; the heat of the day and the walk together were too much for me. I sent Joseph Wilmot on to the Ferns with a message for Mrs. Marston, asking at what hour she could conveniently receive me to-day; and I returned to the cathedral. Joseph Wilmot was to deliver his message at the Ferns, and rejoin me in the cathedral.”
“He was to return to the cathedral?”
“Yes.”
“But why should he not have returned to the George Hotel? Why should you wait for him at the cathedral?”
Arthur Lovell listened, with a strange expression upon his face. If Henry Dunbar was pale, Henry Dunbar’s legal adviser was still more so. The jurymen stared aghast at the coroner, as if they had been awe-stricken by his impertinence towards the chief partner of the great banking-house of Dunbar, Dunbar, and Balderby. How dared he — a man with an income of five hundred a year at the most — how dared he discredit or question any assertion made by Henry Dunbar?
The Anglo–Indian smiled, a little contemptuously. He stood in a careless attitude, playing with the golden trinkets at his watch-chain, with the hot August sunshine streaming upon his face from a bare unshaded window opposite him. But he did not attempt to escape that almost blinding glare. He stood facing the sunlight; facing the gaze of the coroner and the jurymen; the scrutinizing glance of Arthur Lovell. Unabashed and nonchalant as if he had been standing in a ball-room, the hero of the hour, the admired of all who looked upon him, Mr. Dunbar stood before the coroner and jury, and told the broken history of his old servant’s death.
“Yes,” Mr. Lovell thought again, as he watched the rich man’s face, “his nerves must be made of iron.”
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