The man—­a dissipated young man, now that his hat was off—­came forward in his long coat, his red hair and whiskers.  But it seemed that he had really very little information to give.  He was on the banks of the river when Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff, and noticed how strangely he was rowing, one arm apparently lying useless.  What part of the river was this, the coroner asked; and the witness avowed that he could not describe it.  He was a stranger, never there but that once; all he knew was, that it was higher up, beyond Hartledon House.  What might he have been doing there, demanded the coroner.  Only strolling about, was the answer.  What was his business at Calne? came the next question; and as it was put, the witness caught the eye of the new Lord Hartledon through an opening in the crowd.  His business, the witness replied to the coroner, was his own business, and did not concern the public, and he respectfully declined to state it.  He presumed Calne was a free place like other places, where a stranger might spend a few days without question, if he pleased.

Pike chuckled at this:  incipient resistance to authority cheered that lawless man’s heart.  He had stood throughout, in the shadow of the crowd, just within the door, attentively watching the witnesses as they gave their evidence:  but he was not prepared for what was to come next.

Did the witness see any other spectators on the bank? continued the coroner.  Only one, was the answer:  a man called Pike, or some such name.  Pike was watching the little boat on the river when he got up to him; he remarked to Pike that his lordship’s arm seemed tired; and he and Pike had walked back to Calne together.

Pike would have got away had he been able, but the coroner whispered to an officer.  For one single moment Mr. Pike seemed inclined to show fight; he began struggling, not gently, to reach the door; the next he gave it up, and resigned himself to his fate.  There was a little hubbub, in the midst of which a slip of paper with a pencilled line from Lord Hartledon, was handed to the coroner.

“Press this point, whether they returned to Calne at once and together.”

“George Gorton,” cried the coroner, as he crushed the paper in his hand, “at what hour did you return to Calne?”

“I went at once.  As soon as the little boat was out of sight.”

“Went alone?”

“No, sir.  I and the man Pike walked together.  I’ve said so already.”

“What made you go together?”

“Nothing in particular.  We were both going back, I suppose, and strolled along talking.”

It appeared to be all that the witness had to tell, and Mr. Pike came forward perforce.  As he stood there, his elegant wide-awake bent in his hand, he looked more like the wild man of the woods he had been compared to, than a civilized being.  Rough, rude, and abrupt were his tones as he spoke, and he bent his face and eyes downwards whilst he answered.  It was in those eyes that lay the look which had struck Mr. Elster as being familiar to him.  He persisted in giving his name as Tom, not Thomas.