The customary depositions were taken from the house servants, but they added little or nothing to our stock of knowledge. Effingham, the butler, was asked to explain his five minutes' absence from sentry duty at the library door while Doctor Marcy was engaged in meeting Miss Graeme. He answered very simply that Miss Eunice Trevor had sent him to her dressing-room for smelling-salts and a bottle of aromatic spirits of ammonia. When questioned about the master-key he declared that no one knew of its hiding place behind the clock in the pantry; he did not believe that it had been touched until he had taken it himself, shortly before two o'clock, for the purpose of unlocking the library door. Finally Doctor Marcy told the jury of the peculiar circumstances concerning the iron despatch-box. But he could not positively affirm that the box was not in the room when he first examined the body; he was obliged to admit that he might have merely overlooked its presence. John Thaneford turned to the jury. "Is there any use in going on with the inquiry?" he asked. "I don't believe we can do more than return a non-committal verdict--dead by the visitation of God, or something like that." "Or alternatively, by the act of party or parties unknown," interpolated Warriner. "Don't see why you should say that," retorted Thaneford, scowling darkly. "Well, Doctor Marcy has pointed out the unexplained disappearance of the iron despatch-box; I mean between his first and second visit to the room. I think we ought to make sure that no other person entered the library in the interim, or had the opportunity and means to do so." "Just what do you want?" demanded Thaneford truculently. "Let's have Effingham back again," said Warriner calmly. "I want to ask some questions that I didn't think of before." There could be no valid objection to this procedure; and, accordingly, the coroner directed that the negro butler should be recalled. While we were waiting Warriner had risen and was walking about the room, examining its details with profound attention. He was particular in assuring himself that the main windows could not be opened, and that the apertures provided by the swinging of the pridellas on their pivots were impracticable to anyone except a really small boy. When Effingham reappeared Warriner took the examination into his own hands. "Now, Effingham," he began, "I want to know everything about this room. Are there any traps leading to the cellar, any scuttle-panels in the dome?" "Nossir. It am tight all roun'--like um bottle. Doan know nuffin' 'bout traps and scuttles." "Undoubtedly correct," commented Warriner, looking around at us. "I have tested the floor pretty thoroughly, and it is solid everywhere. The same, I think, may be said of the dome and ceiling--not the sign of a crack or jointure." He turned savagely on Effingham. "Now tell me, you black scoundrel, where the secret door is?"