Rathbone rose to his feet. “Yes sir, he is. I don't know what may have kept him. I ask the court's indulgence. I am sure he will not be long.” He had better not be, he thought grimly, or we shall lose this by default! “This is not a court of advocacy, Mr. Rathbone,” the coroner said irritably. “If Mr. Goode does not favor us with his presence, we shall proceed without him. Have you any questions you wish to ask this witness?”

Rathbone drew in his breath to make as long-winded a reply as he could, and was saved the necessity by the doors swinging open wide on their hinges.

Ebenezer Goode swept in, coattails flying, arms full of papers, and strode up to the front. He bestowed a dazzling smile upon the coroner, apologized profusely and took his seat, managing to disturb everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Are you ready, Mr. Goode?” the coroner asked with heavy sarcasm. “May we proceed?”

“Of course!” Goode said, still with the same smile. “Very civil of you to have waited for me.”

“We did not wait for you!” the coroner snapped. “Do you have questions for this witness, sir?”

“Yes indeed, thank you.” Goode rose to his feet, upset his papers and picked them up, then proceeded to ask a lot of questions which merely reaffirmed what Jimson had already said. No one learned anything new, but it wasted considerable time, which was Goode's purpose. And Rathbone's. The coroner kept his temper with difficulty.

Bailey, the second gaoler, was called next, and the coroner elicited from him confirmation of everything Jimson had said, but briefly. There were no contradictions to explore.

It took all Goode's ingenuity to think of sufficient questions to stretch it out a further half hour, and Rathbone found it hard to add anything at all. He redescribed Caleb's words, his gestures, his tone of voice, his behavior earlier during the trial. He even asked Bailey what he thought Ca- leb felt and expected of the outcome, until the coroner stopped him and told him he was asking the witness to speculate beyond his ability to know.

“But sir, Mr. Bailey is an expert witness on the mood and expectations of prisoners charged with capital crimes,” Rathbone protested. “It is his daily occupation. Surely he, of all men, may know whether a prisoner has hope of being acquitted or not? It is of the utmost importance in learning the truth that we know whether Caleb Stone was in despair, or still nurtured some hope of life.”

“Of course it is, Mr. Rathbone,” the coroner conceded. “But you have already drawn from Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Jimson, everything that they know.

It is up to me to reach conclusions, not the witnesses, however experienced.”

“Yes sir,” Rathbone said reluctantly. It was only one o'clock.

The coroner looked at the clock and adjourned for luncheon.