Some such feeling undoubtedly stirred at the back of the coroner's mind. The hide-bound, red-tape-ridden official was more moved than he would have cared to admit, by a sense of irritation at the placidity of this witness, who was even now almost on his trial. Therefore he had paused in his questionings, afraid lest that sense of irritation should carry him beyond the proper limits of his own powers. And now he resumed more quietly, with his voice less trenchant and his own manner outwardly more indifferent. "When," he asked, "did you last see the deceased?" "In the lobby of the Veterans' Club," replied Luke, "the night before last." "You had called there to see him?" "Yes." "For what purpose?" "To discuss certain family matters." "You preferred to discuss these family matters at a club rather than in your cousin's own home?" "Yes." "Why?" "For private reasons of my own." "It would help this inquiry if you would state these private reasons." "They have no bearing upon the present issue." "You refuse to state them?" insisted the coroner. "I do." The coroner was silent for a moment: it almost seemed as if he meant to press the point at first, then thought differently, for after that brief while, he merely said: "Very well." Then he resumed: "Now, Mr. de Mountford, on the night in question, you say you went to see the deceased at the Veterans' Club. You were, I understand, shown into the smoking room?" "Yes," was the simple answer. "Your cousin was in the room?" "Yes." "Alone?" "Alone." "And how long did your interview with him last?" "About an hour or less, perhaps." "Was it of an amicable character?" This question was identical to the one already put to Luke on the actual night of the crime, by the detective charged to elucidate its mysteries. And Luke's reply was identical to his former one: "Of an indifferent character," he replied. "There was no quarrel between you and the deceased gentleman?" "Our interview was of a private nature," rejoined Luke with unalterable calm. "But other witnesses," retorted the coroner sharply, "heard angry voices issuing from the smoking room." "That no doubt is for those other witnesses to say." "You deny then that you quarrelled with the deceased on the night when he was murdered?" "I deny nothing. I am not on my trial, I presume." Again a pause. The coroner closed his eyes and stroked his heavy chin. He had not yet succeeded in chipping the smooth surface of the ice. "At what precise hour then did you last see the deceased alive?" he asked, allowing his voice once more to appear harsh and his manner more peremptory. "At nine o'clock or thereabouts, the night before last." "Where was that?" "He was in the lobby of the Veterans' Club and I just outside." "He made certain remarks to the hall porter at that moment, which offended you very deeply, I understand." "Mr. Philip de Mountford was not always guarded in his speech when he spoke to servants."