He took from his pocket a sheet of writing-paper with stamped heading, and I quickly glanced down the list of names. In an instant I saw that it was incomplete. The two persons whom I knew had been there she had omitted; their names were Lady Pierrepoint-Lane and Beryl Wynd. Without comment I handed it back to him. It occurred to me that it might be best to keep my knowledge to myself, for by so doing I might perchance discover a clue. That evening, having resolved to remain and watch the inquest on the morrow, I scribbled a hasty line to Bob, and then spent the hour after dinner in company with Bullen and Rowling in the bar parlour of a neighbouring public-house. At the inquest held in the billiard-room at Whitton next morning, reporters were present in dozens, and the "note" taken by all was verbatim, for being the dead season, such a mystery came as a welcome "scoop" to those journals whose only claims to notoriety are the sensationalism of their contents bills and their remarkable "cross-heads." The same evening I returned to Rowan Road, where I found Bob in his den, stretched out lazily in his cane deck-chair, smoking his big pipe with a whisky-and-soda at his elbow. "Hullo, old chap!" he cried, jumping up as I entered. "Back again, eh? And with a murder case on hand, too?" "Yes," I responded, sinking into a chair, wearied and tired out. "Most extraordinary, isn't it?" Then at his request, I gave him a minute and detailed account of all that had occurred, and placed in his hands the hideous post-mortem photograph. "Well?" I asked. "What do you think of it?" "Think of it?" he said. "Why, the mystery becomes more involved than ever. You are certain that this photograph is of her?" "Absolutely certain." "Then it seems to me very much as though she is hand-in-glove with the Major, her lover, and Mrs Chetwode, and that they all of them know the truth regarding the tragedy." "That's exactly my theory," I responded, taking down my pipe from the rack, and filling it while Bob poured me out a drink. "But the injuries?" I described them in terms which, being technical, are of no interest to you, my reader, and he sat listening with a dark, thoughtful expression upon his round, usually merry countenance. "A fact which is very puzzling to me, old fellow," he said at last, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, "is the reason her ladyship was so extremely eager to make your acquaintance." "Yes; I can't understand it in the least. It is fortunate, however, that she is in ignorance of my visit to Whitton." "Most fortunate," he answered. "My idea is that the truth is only to be obtained here, in London--and not down there." "Do you think. Bob, that I acted wisely in keeping the secret of that midnight meeting to myself?" I asked earnestly, for I felt that perhaps I had, by so doing foiled the activity of the police.