That slight mass of branch and leaf would make little difference--he was, you see, a heavy man--some fourteen or fifteen stone, I should think.

Oh, instantaneous death, without a doubt! Well, well, these constables must see to the removal of the body, and we must let my friend the coroner know--he will hold the inquest tomorrow, no doubt.
Quite a mere formality, my dear sir!--the whole thing is as plain as a pikestaff.

It will be a relief to know that the mystery is now satisfactorily solved." Outside in the welcome freshness, Copplestone turned to the doctor.
"You say the inquest will be held tomorrow ?" he asked.

The doctor looked his questioner up and down with an inquiry which signified doubt as to Copplestone's right to demand information.
"In the usual course," he replied stiffly.
"Then his brother, Sir Cresswell Oliver, and his solicitor, Mr.
Petherton, must be wired for from London," observed Copplestone, turning to Greyle.

"I'll communicate with them at once.