"But I don't want the glove," said Crewe, who disliked being made the victim of extortion. "What made you think so? I'll sell you this one for five shillings. We may as well do a deal of some kind; it is no use each of us having one glove. What do you say, Taylor? Will you buy mine for five shillings, or shall I buy yours?" Taylor smiled sourly. "You're a deep one," he said. "Here's the other glove." He dipped his hand into the deep pocket of his driving coat and produced a glove. "I suppose you knew I'd have it on me. Five shillings, and it's yours." "The pair are worth about five shillings to me," said Crewe as he paid over the money. "Do you remember what time it was when Mr. Holymead engaged you at Hyde Park?" "Eleven o'clock." "You are quite sure as to the time?" "I heard one of the big clocks striking as he was getting into my cab." Taylor took his departure, and Crewe, after wrapping up the left-hand glove which he had to return to Inspector Chippenfield, put the other one in his safe. "We are getting on," he said in a pleased tone. "This means a trip to Scotland, but I'll wait until the inquest is over." CHAPTER IX At the inquest on the body of Sir Horace Fewbanks, which was held at the Hampstead Police Court, there was an odd mixture of classes in the crowd that thronged that portion of the court in which the public were allowed to congregate. The accounts of the crime which had been published in the press, and the atmosphere of mystery which enshrouded the violent death of one of the most prominent of His Majesty's judges, had stirred the public curiosity, and therefore, in spite of the fact that every one was supposed to be out of town in August, the attendance at the court included a sprinkling of ladies of the fashionable world, and their escorts.