No evidence of any importance was given at the inquest except Westray's
and the doctor's, and no other evidence was, in fact, required. Dr
Ennefer had made an autopsy, and found that the immediate cause of death
was a blow on the back of the head. But the organs showed traces of
alcoholic habit, and the heart was distinctly diseased. It was probable
that Mr Sharnall had been seized with a fainting fit as he left the
organ-stool, and had fallen backwards with his head on the pedal-board. He must have fallen with much violence, and the pedal-note had made a bad wound, such as would be produced by a blunt instrument.
The inquest was nearly finished when, without any warning, Westray found
himself, as by intuition, asking:
"The wound was such a one, you mean, as might have been produced by the
blow of a hammer?"
The doctor seemed surprised, the jury and the little audience stared, but most surprised of all was Westray at his own question.
"You have no locus standi, sir," the coroner said severely; "such an
interrogation is irregular. You are to esteem it an act of grace if I
allow the medical man to reply."
"Yes," said Dr Ennefer, with a reserve in his voice that implied that
he was not there to answer every irrelevant question that it might
please foolish people to put to him—"yes, such a wound as might have
been caused by a hammer, or by any other blunt instrument used with
violence."
"Even by a heavy stick?" Westray suggested.
The doctor maintained a dignified silence, and the coroner struck in:
"I must say I think you are wasting our time, Mr Westray. I am the
last person to stifle legitimate inquiry, but no inquiry is really
needed here; it is quite certain that this poor man came to his end by
falling heavily, and dashing his head against this wooden note in the
pedals."
"Is it quite certain?" Westray asked. "Is Dr Ennefer quite sure
that the wound could have been caused by a mere fall; I only want to
know that Dr Ennefer is quite sure."
The coroner looked at the doctor with a deprecating glance, which
implied apologies that so much unnecessary trouble should be given, and
a hope that he would be graciously pleased to put an end to it by an
authoritative statement.
"Oh, I am quite sure," the doctor responded. "Yes"—and he hesitated
for the fraction of a second—"oh yes, there is no doubt such a wound
could be caused by a fall."
"I merely wish to point out," said Westray, "that the pedal-note on
which he fell is to a certain extent a yielding substance; it would
yield, you must remember, at the first impact."
"That is quite true," the doctor said; "I had taken that into account, and admit that one would scarcely expect so serious an injury to have been caused. But, of course, it was so caused, because there is no other explanation; you don't suggest, I presume, that there was any foul play. It is certainly a case of accident or foul play."
"Oh no, I don't suggest anything."
The coroner raised his eyebrows; he was tired, and could not understand
such waste of time. But the doctor, curiously enough, seemed to have
grown more tolerant of interruption.
"I have examined the injury very carefully," he said, "and have come to
the deliberate conclusion that it must have been caused by the wooden
key. We must also recollect that the effect of any blow would be
intensified by a weak state of health. I don't wish to rake up anything
against the poor fellow's memory, or to say any word that may cause you
pain, Mr Westray, as his friend; but an examination of the body
revealed traces of chronic alcoholism. We must recollect that."
"The man was, in fact, a confirmed drunkard," the coroner said. He
lived at Carisbury, and, being a stranger both to Cullerne and its
inhabitants, had no scruple in speaking plainly; and, besides this, he
was nettled at the architect's interference. "You mean the man was a
confirmed drunkard," he repeated.
"He was nothing of the kind," Westray said hotly. "I do not say that he
never took more than was good for him, but he was in no sense an
habitual drunkard."
"I did not ask your opinion," retorted the coroner; "we do not want
any lay conjectures. What do you say, Mr Ennefer?"