"Curious!" the Coroner observed, turning to the jury. "The cab-driver in his evidence says that a certain Major met the pair at Charing Cross Station. It may have been the same person. This coincidence is certainly striking, and one which must be left to the police to investigate. We have it in evidence that the woman and her companion drove away in the cab, leaving the Major--whoever he may be--standing on the platform. The pair drove straight to the Criterion; yet five minutes later the woman's companion was joined by another Major, who is apparently one and the same." The constable who took the body to the hospital then related how, while on duty in Piccadilly Circus, he had been called to the cab, and found the woman dead. Afterwards he had searched the pockets of the deceased, and taken possession of the lady's dressing-case and the man's hand-bag--all the luggage they had with them in addition to their wraps. He produced the two bags, with their contents, objects which excited considerable interest throughout the room. In the man's bag was a suit of dress-clothes, a small dressing-case, and one or two miscellaneous articles, but nothing by which the owner could be traced. "Well, what did you find in the lady's pockets? Anything to lead to her identity?" the Coroner asked at last. "No, sir. In addition to a purse containing some English money, I found a key, a gentleman's card bearing the name `Arnoldo Romanelli,' and a small crucifix of ivory and silver. In the dressing-case, which you will see is fitted with silver and ivory fittings," he continued, opening it to the gaze of the jury, "there are a few valuable trinkets, one or two articles of attire, and a letter written in Italian--" "I have the letter here," interrupted the Coroner, addressing the jury. "Its translation reads as follows:-- "`Dear Vittorina, "`Be extremely cautious if you really mean to go to England. It is impossible for me to accompany you, or I would; but you know my presence in Italy is imperative. You will easily find Bonciani's Cafe, in Regent Street. Remember, at the last table on the left every Monday at five. "`With every good wish for a pleasant journey, "`Egisto.' "The letter, which has no envelope," added the Coroner, "is dated from Lucca, a town in Tuscany, a week ago. It may possibly assist the police in tracing friends of the deceased." Then, turning to the constable, he asked, "Well, what else was in the lady's bag?" "This photograph," answered the officer, holding up a cabinet photograph. "Why!" cried the cab-driver, who had taken a seat close to where the policeman was standing. "Why, that's a photograph of the Major!" "Yes," added the barmaid excitedly, "that's the same man who came up to the gentleman while he was speaking to me. Without doubt that's the Major, and an excellent portrait, too."