Katherine Moon, a cashier at the Royal Services Club, Waterloo Place, proved more interesting. She had waited for a minute or two in Waterloo Place for a friend to join her; half-past six was the time arranged; during that time she had noticed a man in a light overcoat waiting at the corner of Carlton House Terrace, to one side of the Steps; she had noticed him because for a second she had thought he might be the friend for whom she was waiting, though she had quickly seen that he was taller than her friend and wore a moustache, which her friend did not. That was all that she had seen; she had no real reason for connecting him with the tragedy and had not at first done so, but on hearing of the exhumation and having previously read Miss Fratten’s advertisement, she had put two and two together and wondered whether they could possibly make four. Poole thought her a particularly smart girl; there had been so very little really to connect the two incidents in her mind, and yet the detective felt that she might well be right. Four more names remained on the Inspector’s list—three from the Haymarket neighbourhood, and one from Paddington Square. Poole was puzzled for a moment to find practically all the witnesses coming from such a conscribed area, till he realized that the number of people who would use the Duke of York’s Steps as a homeward route after the day’s work must be closely limited—it was a distinctly long way to Victoria or Waterloo and not too close even to St. James’s Park Underground Station. Mr. Raffelli, owner of a small antique shop in Haymarket Passage, had not, it transpired, seen the accident at all, but had been present when Sir Garth’s body was carried to the car, arriving on the scene probably five minutes after he fell. More wasted time, thought Poole. After a hurried luncheon at Appenrodt’s, the detective called on Mr. Julian Wagglebow, employed in the London Library. Mr. Wagglebow, a precise old gentleman who disliked being hurried, described how, after finishing his day’s work, which consisted of indexing a number of newly-purchased books, at 6 p. m., he had proceeded to Hugh Rees’s shop in Lower Regent Street, to buy a copy of _The Fond Heart_ for his daughter, whose birthday it was. Leaving Hugh Rees’s he had walked down past the Guards Crimean Memorial and the new King Edward statue—a misleading representation, Mr. Wagglebow thought—to the Duke of York’s Steps. Being rather short-sighted he was descending the Steps slowly and carefully when he was startled by someone rushing down past him. “That man will have an accident if he isn’t careful,” he had thought to himself, and sure enough, at that very moment, the man had stumbled and lurched against a gentleman in a top-hat who was walking with another gentleman, similarly attired, just in front of him, Mr. Wagglebow.