The Witness Box; or, the murder of Mr. A. B. C. ([A novel.] Seventh thousand.)

Front matter

fITNESS BOI BY VEVA KARSLAND AND COLLIS KARSLAND TRISCHLER AND COo LONDON I SaJUns;, riding, or wandering o'er the hlTii, Too never should leave your home without a box of Beecham'e PUTa. Good companions, a Guinea a Box their worth, Taa'll never find their equal on the wide, wide earth. Thts plaU w engraved from a photo taken at Bombay, India, THE WITNESS BOX A RELIEVES COUCH IK TEE IIWITES. HAYMAN s BALSAM IS A MOST SATE & SPEEDY REMEDY FOR COUGHS, COLDS, INFLUENZA, HOARSENESS, &o. Gives prompt Relief! Stops a Gold I Cures Cough I Invaluable In the Nursery I Mr. TBOMAM MARLS3, Stationer, 4Si, Cale donian Road, London, writes : — " Builering for several weeks from violent Cough, I w&b advised to get your Balsam. Tbe ectect was truly mar- Yclloua. Two doses great); relieved me, and after one bottle my Cough had quite gona, and 1 feel another man." — Not. 9, 1889.

Prepared only by A. HA YUAN A CO., London, E.C. AKC SOLD THROUGHOUT THE KINGDOM. 7s. /$</., 2s. 9d., 4s, 6d. PER BOTTLE. WM Jt°*' &/ «*x DIETRICHSEN & HAN NAY'S E'' O? 4P/ Celebrated Esunce of />?&? RONDELETIA, kV c /^.^*K%aY^_ An inestimable Perfur"- ' <t r S?/ .^Xi.v^^' ToUel or Handkt 0 Prepared for the <J^/^SVJ>A' HER MAJES" <s\vOr Œbe <&ueen, _^WL _4k.*^^JV HSR LATE MAJESTY xSS^ v<^v The Queen dowager, a-L AND HBR LATE ROYAL HIGHNESS .at -at Thb DUCHESS of KENT. V^k 4 PREPARED AND SOLD BY EDWARD CLEAVER, X / LaU * \^^jr / *^&* DIETRICHSEN & HANNAY, >V. 7/ Oy 3g, GREAT PORTLAND ST., / &' J&S LONDON. lT O ggSi Price 25., 3J. Gd., and 75. SEVENTH THOUSAND. THE WITNESS BOX; OR, THE MURDER OF MR. A. B. C. BY VEVA KARSLAND, AUTHORESS OF "Smitten and Slain," "Mad I Mad! Mad!" etc., etc.. AND COLLIS KARSLAND, author of "My Friend," etc., etc.

" For Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ." — Shakespeare. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Conbon j TRISCHLER AND COMPANY, l8, NEW BRIDGE STREET, E.C. 1890. "Cream of Magnolia." MATCHLESS FOR THE COMPLEXION. •V^FN^ ,4 Marvellous and Unique Preparation for Softening, Toning, and Beautifying the Skin. Invaluable for removing Spots, Sunburns, Blotches and all Imperfections. IMPARTS A YELYETY SOFTNESS & BLOOM. Renders it Beautiful to the Eyo, and deliciously sof to tha Touch. Can bo used with the most perfoct safoty to any Child. In Bftttles, post free, 2s. 6d., 4s., 7s., and 10s. 6d., or Sample Bottles, post free, Is. 3d., direct from the Proprietor, JOHN STEEDMAN, 154, QUEEN'S ROAD, BAYSWATER, LONDON, W., And of all Chemists, Perfumers and Stores throughout the World ESTABLISHED 1836.

Introduction

. sune, 1890. 1890 — This is essentially a novel of to-day. It could not have been written in the last century, and probably would not have been written in the next. It deals with a murder, as novels often do; it deals with the ways of woman, as novels always do ; it deals with a bonnet, as novels seldom do. Three pairs of lovers are introduced to the reader, and also the customary villain, as well as several all necessary "supers," of whom I am one, and yet but for a trifling event which befell me this story would not have concluded as it does. A moral must adorn a tale, even at the tail end of an introduction. In this case let it be, " Believe in a man as long as ye can," for faith surely brings often its own reward. If I was not the laziest man in the world and the vicar of an East-End parish, I should have written this book myself; as it is, I have delegated the task to my friends Miss Veva and Mr. Collis Karsland, who have collaborated, believing in the old proverb, "Two heads are better than one."

Knowing that it is not so easy to write a novel as to read it, and that the wisest among us make mistakes sometimes, may I ask the Critics and the Public to " Be to its merits kind, And to its faults, whate'er they are, be blind " ? All the personages who figure in this story (except two, and of these one cannot) have requested me to cordially thank the writers for having troubled to relate these, "the complex annals of the rich." ROBERT BARTON. S. Stephen's Vicarage, Bow, E. "THE SCENT OF THE LILIES." sRegd.J "The Scent of the Hayfields." (Regd.) VOGT'S New Perfumes. The Success of the Season. Bottles 2s.,3s.6u.,6s.6tl., 12s,, and 21s. each. OF ALL CHEMISTS, &c. Should you have any difficulty in procuring them, send Postal Order direct to G. VOGT & Co,, 19, Laurence Pountney Lane, London, E.C. THE AUROPHONE.

THE DEAF MAY HEAR. THE AUEOPHONE is a new Scientific Invention of an Invisible Apparatus to be worn in the ear. It is easily inserted or withdrawn by anyone, and will almost in variably restore hearing to anyone not stone deaf. It can be tested ABSOLUTELY FREE OF COST at THE AUROPHONE CO.'S ROOMS, 39, BAKER STREET, LONDON. Pamphlet sent free and post paid.

Chapter I

A. B. C. The carriages forming the D express were drawn up in readiness by the platform, and already people were beginning to secure their seats, though the principal part of the train — the engine — was conspicuous only by its absence. Against the door of one of the compart ments leant a tall clergyman, clad in correct clerical garb. " A. B. C. ! Whoever can he be ? " remarked he, pointing to a farther corner of the carriage, where there were arranged several packages, a rug, hat-box, bag, &c, nearly all bearing the mysterious initials A. B. C. " Peculiar initials, certainly ; I am glad they are not mine," said a young fellow from within the compartment. " Ah, the letter H saved you. It is not a favourite letter with most people, though." " No, indeed," replied young Alexander Howard Courtenay (to give him his full name), as, having satis factorily arranged his small portmanteau on the rack and secured a corner seat by an umbrella deputy, he descended to the platform and joined his friend.

Alec Courtenay was a thorough gentleman. He was tall and well built, with clear blue eyes and fair curly B the other porter. " 'E 'ad fallen down as if 'e 'ad been a-looking for somewhat and 'ad been taken suddenly with a fit." Time, tide, and trains are the three T's which wait for no man, and already the express was miles away, carrying its freight of human beings forward, onward still ; whilst in the quiet waiting-room the doctor, summoned in haste, bent gravely over the stranger and made a hurried examination, watched eagerly by the anxious faces of those collected round. " I fear there is little to be done," he remarked at last. " He is sinking fast." Just then the dying man's eyes opened — opened on the unfamiliar scene and on unknown faces — slowly they wandered round the room, in search evidently of some one or something.

He strove pitifully to speak, but the pale lips refused their office; slowly he raised one trembling hand and pointed towards his luggage, all piled up together near by, and then, exhausted even by that slight effort, he fell back, half-fainting. " Brandy," called the doctor, and it was instantly brought him. Gently he supported the feeble hand as he strove to force a few drops through the set teeth, and then watched anxiously the effect. " No hope," he said shortly. "Who is he?" " No idea, sir," answered the station-master, who stood by; " save that the portmanteau bears the name of ' Courtenay,' and nearly all the other bags the letters «A. B. C" " There has been foul play here," said the doctor gravely ; " he has been shot in the back." "Shot!" cried the station-master aghast. "There was no sign of violence — the porters thought he was in a fit."

" The bleeding was internal," replied the doctor; " all the worse for him. It is an awful tragedy. If only one knew who he was ! If only he could speak 1 " THE SWAN INN. 15 But Death, the mighty secret-keeper, was closing for ever those cold lips with its unbreakable seal, and ere the solemn old station clock had marked one minute more, the restless spirit had passed to that bourn from whence no traveller returns to tell men aught. Only a lifeless corpse lay in the doctor's arms, and the watchers around were left to conjecture and wonder, since they could not know. A. B. C, as Robert Barton had laughingly designated him, was dead. Dead, leaving two questions un answered — one, Who he was ? the other, How he came by his death ?

Chapter II. The Swan Inn

An express train's stoppages are like angel's visits, few and far between. Through most of the smaller stations it dashes at lightning speed, with a crashing noise and a vain endeavour to raise wind enough to blow the few passengers on the platform sky high. But Bereton, though only a small town, scarce worthy of the name of borough, could boast of being one of the favoured few, owing to the fact that it was a junction for a branch line. The little town did not smile a welcome on Alec Courtenay as he stepped out of the express ; for the sky was overcast, and the wind was blowing so hard that the porter who was taking the tickets had some ado to keep his footing. " Swan Inn ? " shouted a small boy ; and Courtenay nodded affirmatively as he entered a very ramshackle old omnibus, which was soon inflicting upon its only occupant a severe shaking as it bumped along the badly paved road until it drew up sharply at the door of the Swan Inn — an old-fashioned, quaint little hostelry, much patronised for its central position and famed gastronomic feats.

He was received at the door by a red-haired, rough looking servant girl, who informed him, as she showed him to his room, that the master was out and missus was busy in the kitchen. Having given this piece of gratuitous information, she departed. Courtenay looked round for his portmanteau, and then the unpleasant fact crossed his mind that he had unwittingly left it in the train. " How foolish, how careless to be sure ! " he thought ; " but there I am bothered enough to turn any man's brain. If only I had never got into that old Jew's hands ! " Thus ruminating, he made his way down the long passage, and was slowly descending the stairs, when he was almost knocked over by a young fellow who was rushing madly up them. " Beg pardon, sir," gasped he, still continuing his headlong career. " He is in a frantic huiry; one would think the house was on fire, at least," thought Courtenay.

Entering the coffee-room he found it empty and no sign of a meal, which fact caused him to frown im patiently as he strolled towards the letter-rack, wherein were two letters, one of them bearing the inscription, "A. Courtenay, Esq., Shortlands, Erton, Norfolk," and redirected to the Swan Inn, Bereton. He picked it up and read it, then uttered a low " What a nuisance ! " THE SWAN INN. 17 as he refolded it and placed it in his pocket. He then rang the bell, whereon the same red-haired domestic reappeared. " Is not Hunter in yet? " he asked. " No, sir ; what do ye want, sir ? " " I thought perhaps he might know if Miss Carr has returned to the Lodge. He generally knows everything that goes on in Bereton, sleepy little hole." " No, sir ; she's no a-come, sir, I kens, sir, for I sees the gardener yesternight and 'e telled me to tell missus as 'ow that Miss Lizzie needn't 'urry with the work for nor a week; changed her arrangings a sudden-like, a telegraph, or some like things, I 'lieve.

Miss Lizzie is a-doing some work for 'er, sir, and a-doing it beautiful too ; but, by-the-bye, its no for 'era after all I mind, it's for Mrs. Lyon, the lady, as lives with 'er." " Never mind the work now," said Alec Courtenay in an authoritative tone. " Could you get me paper and ink ? " he added. " I want to write a note." " Sure I'll get ye some, sir. Will ye 'ave red ink or the b'ack ; master 'as some blue-black, it's something special I 'lieves. I'll get ye that, sure," and off she went, returning anon with the necessary articles for letter writing, sand bottle included. The Swan Inn was certainly old-fashioned, if nothing else. Alec Courtenay commenced his letter, but apparently it was a difficult one to write, for many a sheet was mercilessly destroyed by him before it was at last finished, placed in its envelope, and directed to " Miss Carr, Bereton Lodge, Upfield, near Bereton," with " to be forwarded " in the left-hand corner.

His occupation concluded, he strolled, after casting one impatient glance at the still unlaid table, into the bar and ordered a sherry and bitters. Pretty Addie Turner smiled as she served him, but it was rather a watery smile, for poor Addie's heart was full of anxiety. At that moment the outer door was pushed open, and a man, wearing the railway company's uniform, entered. " Give us a drop of something warm, Miss. Irish I prefer." Addie handed him the glass in silence. " What a bitter night it is ! One needs something to keep out the cold," continued the man, whose back was turned towards Courtenay. " Yes," answered Addie, absently. " I say," continued the undaunted speaker, who was noted for being the most talkative man in all Bereton, " What do you think ? There has been a gentleman found dead in the express train."

" How sad ! " cried Addie, interested in spite of her self. " How did you come to hear of it ? " " We had a telegram from the station-master at Hans wick stating that an elderly gentleman had been found dead in a second-class carriage, and that there was a portmanteau in the carriage labelled ' Courtenay,' and several other parcels with the initials A. B. C, so that there will be no difficulty in identifying him. Mr. Dunn told me all about it, for he wanted to know how many passengers got out of the train." " He might as well have told the town crier," thought Addie. "Only two got out," went on the ticket collector, who never waited to be questioned. " Young Mr. Courtenay, and a lady dressed in a long ulster ; and such a bonnet, all gay with blue birds' feathers. They reminded me of how when I was a boy."

" Oh, horrors ! " thought Addie, who knew what James Arm's stories were for length when once he began " When I was a boy." " Liz, what a time you have been," she said aside, as at this opportune moment a tall fair girl, much resem bling Addie in appearance, but slighter and younger looking, entered. " Duncan is here ; I am busy attending to him," THE SWAN INN. 19 replied Lizzie, whose face was flushed with excitement, " I cannot stay," and she disappeared. " It is too bad," muttered Addie Turner, with tears in her blue eyes. " Martha, Martha," she called, leaving the bar for a minute, as she caught sight of the servant passing the coffee-room door. " Yes," answered Martha, and a hurried whispered conversation was held between them, ending with a " Certainly, miss " from Martha. Then Addie flew back to her post to find one man stamping with his feet and another with a huge walking stick.

" Come, hurry up young lady," they said. " That is an awful thing you were telling me. Do they think it can be murder ? " asked Addie of Arm, as she waited on the others. James Arm nodded his head sagely. " I mustn't say another word," he answered gravely, looking full of importance, " for I forgot ; sure, I was told not to speak on the matter ; beside, I must be hurrying off, or the next train will be in before I am up to the station, and then there would be no end of a row." Meanwhile, Alec Courtenay had slipped away from the bar and gone direct to his room, where he stood gazing out of the window. But it was not the view of the driving rain, the only thing visible, which had drawn him thither; for Alec was unconscious of the weather, so deep was he in meditation — nut pleasant meditation either — for his face was blanched and his usually smooth brow puckered.

"It's awful," he muttered, leaning his head on his hands ; then, after a few seconds' pause, " I hope I shall have no trouble abcut that wretched portmanteau of mine,"

Chapter III. Gone

! Ten minutes later Martha, red and flurried, knocked at his door. " Please, sir," she began, as Alec Courtenay opened it. " Oh, lawks ! take care ye don't a-shoot me," she broke off, backing as she caught sight of a revolver in his hand. " No fear, my good woman. I have just been rubbing it up a bit. I wanted some occupation," said Courtenay. " Is ye sure it won't go off, sir ? " asked Martha, still eyeing it askance. " It is empty now," said Courtenay, pointing it at her as he spoke. "Now, dunno, sir; it puts me all of a-quaking like." " Don't be absurd. Well," he added, crossly, " I suppose you have come to tell me dinner is ready at last?" " Yes, sir ; and please, sir, I 'ad this 'ere note a-given me to give to ye." " A note for me ! " said Courtenay, wonderingly, as he took it. " I'll be down in a minute.

I must just wash my hands first," he added, as he closed the half open door. " Why, how ill yer look, sir!" cried outspoken Martha, when a little later he entered the coffee-room. " Are you quite sure this note is for me ? " he asked sternly. " Quite, sir," said Martha, who was a very positive young person. Courtenay commenced his dinner gloomily, nor did GONE ! 21 he even appreciate Mrs. Hunter's far-famed cooking ; indeed, his mind was so fully occupied with other thoughts that had an old shoe been served up to him instead of those delicate little cutlets, he would have been none the wiser. A clear sign surely that he was very much perturbed, for it is not a common occurrence for a man to be indifferent to tasty dishes. But for once the skill of the landlady of the Swan Inn proved to be wasted labour.

Soon he pushed his plate peevishly away. " Get me a glass of brandy and water," he ordered ; and Martha disappeared to obey his commands. " Is discretion the better part of valour?" murmured he, when left alone. " Things do look black against me," and he rested his head on his hand. " Already ! They might have left me a moment to think ! What a fool I was to leave that portmanteau in the carriage ! Can I prove an alibi 7 No! And I know enough law to see that circumstantial evidence is dead against me. Many a man has been hung for far less. That wretched Jew ! I wish I had never set eyes on him ; above all, never got into his power ! I wish " Here Courtenay started. A lady had softly entered the apartment, and was standing close beside him. She was tall and very elegant, with a beautiful countenance, but white as marble.

She wore her bonnet still, but had removed her wet cloak. " I wish I could break myself of the habit of speaking aloud," thought Courtenay. With a graceful bend of her queen-like head, she bowed to him in a foreign rather than English manner, and wished him, "Good evening." Courtenay responded, and made the remark that it was a fine night, whereat V e lady smiled, for the rain was distinctly audible on the window-pane. Slowly she took off her gloves, examining them attentively, with a short sigh. Certainly they were far from new. She then proceeded to unfasten a gauze veil she had before thrown back off her face. "That's a peculiar bonnrt," thought Courtenay, as the article in question now became visible. It was un common enough to draw even his attention, though only a man and not versed in the ways of millinery.

But even as he noticed it the bonnet was removed by the wearer, and placed in a small band-box, from whence was taken out a little travelling-hat. The lady next drew a chair across to the fire, where she sat warming her feet. Martha at that moment entered noisily, and set the brandy before Courtenay. "My good girl, is there a Bradshaw anywhere?" asked he, whereon she disappeared to return anon with one. About a quarter of an hour later she was surprised, on crossing the hall, to see Courtenay with his hat and ulster on, and his bag and rugs in either hand. " Are ye a-going, sir? " she asked. " Yes. I have altered my plans. Here," he added, slipping a sovereign in her hand; "this will pay for my bill and leave something over for yourself." " But I must get you the account, sir," said Martha, who never understood anything out of the ordinary routine.

" All right," he answered. Bat when she returned with the bill drawn out in due form, Courtenay had disappeared, bag and baggage, in his agitation leaving on the table the letter he had so carefully written. There Lizzie Hunter, on entering the coffee-room later, espied it. "Graham," said she, returning to the bar, "here's a letter for Miss Carr. Will you see it is forwarded to her?" Lizzie was fond of h iving a finger in everybody's pie. "Ay, ay," replied the man, who was gardener and GONE ! 23 factotum at Bereton Lodge As he spoke he placed it in his great pocket, and then, with a "Good-night, miss," went out into the cold and wet. " Is it not extraordinary Mr. Courtenay disappearing like this ? " said Lizzie to Addie. " Oh, I expect he will return soon. Martha always makes mountains out of mole-hills," replied she, as she turned to serve a new-comer.

Addie Turner was Lizzie's greatest friend, and the landlord of the Swan Inn had lately permitted her, at his daughter's solicitations, to live with them and assist Lizzie at the bar. The place was no sinecure, for the duties were arduous ; but Addie was, however, glad of any opportunity to earn her own living, for work is scarce in these days of intense competition. But it was a "come-down," and Addie felt it to be such. In other and happier days her parents had been in a good position and fairly well off, but illness, bad debts, and thoughtless kindness in the matter of signatures, had reduced their means ; and now the father was dead, and her mother, with six young children on her hands, had to struggle to live on a miserable pittance, barely as much as is laid aside to purchase clothes in the case of many a one who considers herself poor and badly off.

The evening deepened into night, and the clock had chimed the hour of eight. Upstairs, in one of the dark bedrooms, stood impatiently by the window, the same young fellow who had so nearly tumbled over Courtenay in his rapid flight upstairs. " How much longer ? " he sighed wearily. As if in answer to his thoughts, the door opened, and ere he had recovered from the glare of the sudden blaze of light, he felt a touch on his arm. " John Burgess," said a voice, " I arrest you in the Queen's name." There was no answer and no resistance as the handcuffs were placed on his wrists by a policeman. Meanwhile, a slim young man of about thirty, with thick, dark hair and brown eyes, was examining a small bag which stood near the bed, with a smile of satisfaction. " Good 1 " muttered he, closing it. " You can go down now, my man," he added, nodding to the police man.

" Take my advice," he said, turning to the prisoner, " and don't make any fuss." Then he led the way down the stairs, at the bottom of which stood Lizzie Hunter. "Is it all right, Duncan?" she asked. He nodded in reply. "Poor fellow!" murmured the girl, glancing compassionately at the young man. " Good-night, sir," said the policeman. " Good-night," answered the other, in an off-hand manner. Then Jack Burgess looked up and spoke for the first time. " Mr. Knabb," he said savagely, " I shall be revenged upon you some day, and then we shall be quits. You know I am innocent," he added passionately, in a lower voice. " Go on," said Mr. Knabb to the policeman, harshly ; and then he turned into the coffee-room, with Lizzie still clinging to his arm. The girl looked frightened. " What can he do to you, Duncan ?

" she whispered. "Oh, it's all nonsense; they always talk like that. Why, Lizzie, you will never be fit to be a detective's wife unless you pluck up a little more spirit. What can he do to me ? " " Duncan," asked she, "do you like being a detective?" Duncan Knabb shrugged his shoulders. " It pays well," he said ; "but it's difficult work," and he sighed. " Supper is ready !" called Addie. " Where's uncle?" she continued, as they put in an appearance in the private sitting-room. Addie had for many years past called Lizzie's parents Uncle and Aunt. She was in reality distantly connected with the former, and was very much attached to the kindly, genial man. " Father has gone to bed," said Lizzie ; " he came in looking so bad, and he has hurt his arm." " Why did he not come by the 4.30 train, as expected?"

Addie inquired. " He says he made a mistake and got into the wrong train, and went to N ; but I believe he has been having a spree in town, and didn't want to come home earlier. Where there isn't a will there isn't a way," said Mrs. Hunter, misquoting the old proverb. " Hungry, Duncan ? " continued she. " Not particularly. What's that noise ? " he added, starting. "Only rats," laughed Lizzie. "I declare you are nervous now, after scolding me. You look pale too. I believe you do dread young Burgess's threats after all." " Not I," retorted Knabb ; " it is you who have kissed all my colour away." " Oh, Duncan ! " said Lizzie, blushing scarlet. " Jack ! Jack Burgess ! Has he been arrested ? " inter rupted Addie, looking at them with dilated eyes. "Yes. Didn't you know? Why, whatever is the matter ? — are you ill ? " cried Lizzie, for Addie had fallen on the floor in a dead faint.

Chapter IV. The Inquest

The little tavern which adjoins the station of Hanswick, and bears the title " The Railway Inn " upon the gaudy sign-post (with an apology for a train painted on it, which, however, really looks more like several black blotches interspersed with streaks of white) was actually busy one wintry afternoon. Strangers might be seen entering, ever and anon, its open door, while a small crowd of the inhabitants of this prosperous town were gazing with interest at the portal of the little hostelry. What could be the cause of their expectant glances ? Was there a real live lord within those walls, or was it election time, and were they waiting for a speech from their newly-chosen repre sentative? or was it what Englishmen, as well as English women, will always wait to stare at — a wedding pro cession ? or was it, was it nothing at all ? for that is also ofttimes the reason for a crowd collecting.

No ; none of these exciting episodes had the people gathered to witness. We will let the reader into the secret by walking through the passage into the large back room, sometimes used for " ordinaries," sometimes for concerts or meetings, but generally not used at all, but which is to-day crowded. A middle-aged, spectacled gentleman is seated at the bead of a long table at one end, and round him are twelve others, chiefly of the species farmer, all of whom are over thirty, all of whom wear an expression of infinite importance, and all of whom have tankards of beer standing in front of them. At the further end is a crowd of privileged spectators, who must have collected surely either to be amused or interested in some way or other. At another table sit several of the genus reporter, who, with their notebooks in front of them, appear bent on trying to write 300 words a minute.

An empty chair has been placed facing the solemn personage alluded to above, who is the Coroner of the district, and is at present engaged on the adjourned inquest on the body of the gentleman who had been murdered in the railway carriage a week before, and whose death had been the cause of immense excitement, and was known throughout the length and breadth of England under the title of the "Murder of A. B. C." At present all the facts known of the case were briefly summed up in two words — Nothing and Nobody. Nothing was known of the murdered man ; nobody could identify him. A rap on the table by the Coroner — Dr. H. Fielding — and the first witness was called. Miss Anna Kipton, who was very nervous, and took sal volatile several times, deposed in a low voice that she was at Hanswick Station at 5.20 on Tuesday afternoon, the nth, waiting for the express train to take her to M .