“The inquest was to be held on the following day, and perforce curiosity had to be bridled until then. But you may imagine how that coroner’s court at Kensington was packed on that day. I, of course, was at my usual place—well to the front—for I was already keenly interested in the tragedy, and knew that a palpitating mystery lurked behind the old lady’s death. “Annie, the housemaid at Dartmoor Terrace, was the first, and I may say the only really important witness during that interesting inquest. The story she told amounted to this: Mrs. Yule, it appears, was very religious, and, in spite of her advancing years and decided weakness of the heart, was in the habit of going to early morning service every day of her life at six o’clock. She would get up before any one else in the house, and winter or summer, rain, snow, or fine, she would walk round to St. Matthias’ Church, coming home at about a quarter to seven, just when her servants were getting up. “On this sad morning (28th March) Annie explained that she got up as usual and went downstairs (the servants slept at the top of the house) at seven o’clock. She noticed nothing wrong, her mistress’s bedroom door was open as usual, Annie merely remarking to herself that the mistress was later than usual from church that morning. Then suddenly, in the hall at the foot of the stairs, she caught sight of Mrs. Yule lying head downwards, her head on the mat, motionless. “‘I ran downstairs as quickly as I could,’ continued Annie, ‘and I suppose I must ’ave screamed, for cook came out of ’er room upstairs, and Mr. Bloggs, too, shouted down to know what was the matter. At first we thought Mrs. Yule was unconscious-like. Me and Mr. Bloggs carried ’er to ’er room, and then Mr. Bloggs ran for the doctor.’