******

She was listening intently, waiting for a word, a sentence, which would relieve her hidden terrors, or, on the other hand, confirm them.  But the word, the sentence, was never uttered.

And yet, at the very end of his long peroration, the coroner did throw out a hint which might mean anything—­or nothing.

“I am glad to say that we hope to obtain such evidence to-day as will in time lead to the apprehension of the miscreant who has committed, and is still committing, these terrible crimes.”

Mrs. Bunting stared uneasily up into the coroner’s firm, determined-looking face.  What did he mean by that?  Was there any new evidence—­evidence of which Joe Chandler, for instance, was ignorant?  And, as if in answer to the unspoken question, her heart gave a sudden leap, for a big, burly man had taken his place in the witness-box—­a policeman who had not been sitting with the other witnesses.

But soon her uneasy terror became stilled.  This witness was simply the constable who had found the first body.  In quick, business-like tones he described exactly what had happened to him on that cold, foggy morning ten days ago.  He was shown a plan, and he marked it slowly, carefully, with a thick finger.  That was the exact place —­no, he was making a mistake—­that was the place where the other body had lain.  He explained apologetically that he had got rather mixed up between the two bodies—­that of Johanna Cobbett and Sophy Hurtle.

And then the coroner intervened authoritatively:  “For the purpose of this inquiry,” he said, “we must, I think, for a moment consider the two murders together.”

After that, the witness went on far more comfortably; and as he proceeded, in a quick monotone, the full and deadly horror of The Avenger’s acts came over Mrs. Bunting in a great seething flood of sick fear and—­and, yes, remorse.

Up to now she had given very little thought—­if, indeed, any thought —­to the drink-sodden victims of The Avenger.  It was he who had filled her thoughts,—­he and those who were trying to track him down.  But now?  Now she felt sick and sorry she had come here to-day.  She wondered if she would ever be able to get the vision the policeman’s words had conjured up out of her mind—­out of her memory.

And then there came an eager stir of excitement and of attention throughout the whole court, for the policeman had stepped down out of the witness-box, and one of the women witnesses was being conducted to his place.

Mrs. Bunting looked with interest and sympathy at the woman, remembering how she herself had trembled with fear, trembled as that poor, bedraggled, common-looking person was trembling now.  The woman had looked so cheerful, so—­so well pleased with herself till a minute ago, but now she had become very pale, and she looked round her as a hunted animal might have done.

But the coroner was very kind, very soothing and gentle in his manner, just as that other coroner had been when dealing with Ellen Green at the inquest on that poor drowned girl.