Next day the body of the unfortunate man was removed to the Dukesfield morgue, and twenty-four hours later the coroner held an inquiry in the coffee-room of the Lancaster Hotel. Public interest was greatly roused over the matter, and the ubiquitous reporters of the great "dailies"--amongst them Harry Cass--attended, note-book in hand, to supply their readers with sensational details. A rumour--first set afloat by the babbling tongue of Mrs. Basket--was prevalent that Mrs. Moxton had killed her husband with a carving-knife. It was known from the same source that she had lived a lonely life since taking up her abode in Myrtle Villa, that Moxton had neglected her shamefully, that he had left her nightly by herself, and had even denied her the comfort and company of a servant. Hence it was openly declared that cruel treatment and contemptuous desertion had driven Mrs. Moxton to commit the crime. But this theory found no favour in the sight of Dr. Ellis, and he avowed himself the champion of the pretty widow. "If she were guilty she would not have announced the crime as she did," he argued with Cass. "It would have been easy for her to let the corpse lie on the path all night, and pretend ignorance when it was discovered by the milkman. Also, if she struck the blow she had a whole night at her disposal to vanish into the unknown." "Flight would have proved her guilt, Bob. Besides, she would have been tracked down on that tacit confession of her crime." "I don't agree with you. Nothing is known of the Moxtons, as they kept very much to themselves. Hardly anyone saw her or knew her by sight. She could have disappeared like a drop of water into the ocean of London, without leaving a trace for the most cunning detective to follow. Instead of doing this--her wisest plan if she killed her husband--she stays and faces the matter out in all innocence." Cass produced a newspaper from his pocket. "I can suggest a theory for her remaining. Here"--he pointed to a paragraph in the death column--"three days ago, Edgar Allan Moxton, the great picture-dealer of Bond Street, died, leaving a large fortune behind him. Now this dead man, as I judge from the similarity of Christian and surname, is probably the son of Moxton. If so, he, had he lived, would, no doubt, inherit the money. As he is dead, Mrs. Moxton, the widow, may do so. A fortune is worth running some risk for, Bob." But the faith of Ellis was not to be shaken. "The similarity of names may be a mere coincidence, such as occurs more frequently in real life than in fiction. Also, even if you can prove the relationship, it does not show that Mrs. Moxton is waiting for the fortune, or that she is even aware of the death. Give her the benefit of the doubt, Harry." "I give her much more than the jury will do, Ellis. Public opinion is against her." "Bah! what do the tinker and tailor and candlestick maker know of the matter?"