Little Swills is waiting for the coroner and jury on their return.  Mr. Tulkinghorn, also.  Mr. Tulkinghorn is received with distinction and seated near the coroner between that high judicial officer, a bagatelle-board, and the coal-box.  The inquiry proceeds.  The jury learn how the subject of their inquiry died, and learn no more about him.  “A very eminent solicitor is in attendance, gentlemen,” says the coroner, “who, I am informed, was accidentally present when discovery of the death was made, but he could only repeat the evidence you have already heard from the surgeon, the landlord, the lodger, and the law-stationer, and it is not necessary to trouble him.  Is anybody in attendance who knows anything more?”

Mrs. Piper pushed forward by Mrs. Perkins.  Mrs. Piper sworn.

Anastasia Piper, gentlemen.  Married woman.  Now, Mrs. Piper, what have you got to say about this?

Why, Mrs. Piper has a good deal to say, chiefly in parentheses and without punctuation, but not much to tell.  Mrs. Piper lives in the court (which her husband is a cabinet-maker), and it has long been well beknown among the neighbours (counting from the day next but one before the half-baptizing of Alexander James Piper aged eighteen months and four days old on accounts of not being expected to live such was the sufferings gentlemen of that child in his gums) as the plaintive—­so Mrs. Piper insists on calling the deceased—­was reported to have sold himself.  Thinks it was the plaintive’s air in which that report originatinin.  See the plaintive often and considered as his air was feariocious and not to be allowed to go about some children being timid (and if doubted hoping Mrs. Perkins may be brought forard for she is here and will do credit to her husband and herself and family).  Has seen the plaintive wexed and worrited by the children (for children they will ever be and you cannot expect them specially if of playful dispositions to be Methoozellers which you was not yourself).  On accounts of this and his dark looks has often dreamed as she see him take a pick-axe from his pocket and split Johnny’s head (which the child knows not fear and has repeatually called after him close at his eels).  Never however see the plaintive take a pick-axe or any other wepping far from it.  Has seen him hurry away when run and called after as if not partial to children and never see him speak to neither child nor grown person at any time (excepting the boy that sweeps the crossing down the lane over the way round the corner which if he was here would tell you that he has been seen a-speaking to him frequent).

Says the coroner, is that boy here?  Says the beadle, no, sir, he is not here.  Says the coroner, go and fetch him then.  In the absence of the active and intelligent, the coroner converses with Mr. Tulkinghorn.

Oh!  Here’s the boy, gentlemen!

Here he is, very muddy, very hoarse, very ragged.  Now, boy!  But stop a minute.  Caution.  This boy must be put through a few preliminary paces.