Page 57 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

The foreman of the jury stood up. ‘We would like to know, if you please, what the gentleman and deceased talked about.’

The coroner sighed at the delay. He said to Sebastian, ‘You hear. The jury wish to know what you talked about.’

Sebastian was on eggshells now. ‘He asked me what I wanted. Then he demanded to know how I knew his wife. I said I didn’t know her. Then he attacked me.’

‘Did you, in fact, know his wife?’’

‘No, sir. I can only think he mistook me for someone else.’

‘That sounds likely. You may sit down.’

A witness, a nervous older woman, gave testimony that Jack Hubbard was a ‘great drinker’ and ‘often drunk out of his senses’. His wife Mary also was frequently drunk. She was ‘a bad sort’.

The tapman from the Three Tuns said that he had sold a jug of flesh and blood to deceased’s wife that morning about an hour before the incident. He further explained, on request, that flesh and blood was a popular local alcoholic beverage of porter mixed with gin. The coroner seemed to wince.

Another witness, a tiny old woman, very excited, shrill, and lacking teeth, said that Shoddy Jack was ‘like a mad beast’ in his cups, and used to beat his wife Mary when he’d ‘had a few’. ‘I see him pull his knife out,’ she confided eagerly. ‘It was me what shouted out and warned that feller – the gennleman there. Then Mary comes out and starts a-creatin’, only some fellers held her back, or she’d likely have jined in.’

‘What you think she might have done is not evidence,’ the coroner said sternly. ‘Is the wife present?’

The police inspector bobbed up to say that the woman, known variously as Mary Hughes, Mary or May Hubbard and Mary or Molly Welch, who lived with deceased as his wife, had been taken up dead drunk and disorderly in the early hours of that day and was still in the cells, not yet fit to be released.

‘Very well,’ said the coroner. ‘Anyone else have anything more to say?’

The inspector rose again, and said, ‘Sir, I feel Mr Tallant has not been sufficiently open about his presence in Hog Lane that morning. He has not accounted for why he was there at all. He claims he was wandering without any particular purpose, but I have a witness who says he asked the way to Hog Lane, and paid some boys a penny to guide him there.’

‘Very well, we’ll hear this witness.’

The inspector looked glum. ‘I interviewed her, sir, but she was unwilling to appear in person unless subpoenaed. If I might request an adjournment . . .’

The coroner glanced at his watch again and said, with diminished patience, ‘Oh, surely there’s no need for that. The essentials of the business seem clear enough to me. Mr Tallant!’ Sebastian stood up. ‘Please state for the inspector’s satisfaction what was your purpose in going to Hog Lane on the morning in question.’

‘I confess it was idle curiosity, sir. I had heard of it as a place of ill repute and wanted to see it for myself.’

‘A reprehensible curiosity, and no doubt you feel you have been sufficiently punished for it. Yes, what is it?’

A man in a worn suit had stood up, and said, ‘My lord, I protest!’

‘I am not a judge, and this is not a court of law. You address me as sir.’

‘Well, sir, I protest about the gennleman calling it a place of ill repute. Us that live in Hog Lane are decent folk trying to make a honest living. I have an ironmongery shop, sir, and if people get to talking about ill repute and suchlike, what’ll happen to my business? My wife’s already in a state of nerves over having a dead body prac’ly right outside our premises.’

‘What would you have me do?’ the coroner barked impatiently.

‘I would like it stated official, sir,’ the ironmonger went on determinedly, ‘that Hog Lane is a decent place.’

There was a murmur of agreement from several others in the room.

‘Yes, yes, very well.’ The coroner waved him to sit down. ‘Mr Tallant, let us be clear, had you any knowledge of or dealings with deceased before that day?’

This was the moment Sebastian had dreaded, but he had his answer ready, and it was the truth. ‘I had never met or seen the man before in my life,’ he said, with all the sincerity he could muster.

‘Well, Inspector?’ said the coroner. ‘That’s plain enough for you, isn’t it?’

The inspector rose again. ‘Sir, I find it difficult to believe that deceased would attack a complete stranger at knifepoint for no reason at all.’

The coroner’s patience snapped. ‘I do not find it at all difficult to believe that an habitual drunk, known to be violent in his cups, should behave irrationally and violently. Those who engage in drunken brawls require only occasion, not provocation. Alcohol is rightly called “the demon drink” and its pernicious influence is the curse of the lower classes. It is quite clear that Mr Tallant was attacked with a knife – and wounded – and was merely defending himself, and that deceased tripped and fell and struck his head accidentally upon the lamppost. Does the jury need to retire?’

There was some shuffling, exchanged glances, and heads put together for some urgent whispering. Then the foreman stood up. ‘No sir.’