"I didn't turn to look at 'im," he said bluntly. "I could 'ear 'is voice plain enough--so why should I take a look at 'im? 'Ow did I know there was a goin' to be murder done in my cab, and me wanted to say what the murderer looked like?" He looked round the room defiantly, as if expecting applause for this display of sound common-sense, opposed to the coroner's tiresome officialism. "And what directions," asked the latter, "did the gentleman give you?" "To go along Piccadilly," replied the witness, "till 'e told me to stop." "And when did he tell you to stop?" "By the railings of Green Park, just by 'Yde Park Corner. One of 'em puts 'is 'ead out of the window and calls to me to pull up." "Which you did?" "Which I did, and one of 'em gets out and standin' on the curb 'e leans back to the interior of the cab and says: S'long--see you to-morrow,' and then 'e says to me: 'No. 1 Cromwell Road,' and disappears in the fog." "Surely you saw him then?" "No. The fog was like pea soup there, though it looked clearer on Knightsbridge away. And 'e got out left side of course. I was up on my box right 'and side--a long way from 'im. I could see a man standin' there, but not 'is face. 'Is 'at was pulled down right over 'is eyes, and 'is coat collar up to 'is ears." "Had he his stick--or umbrella--with him then?" "Yes. With 'is 'ands in 'is pockets, and the tip pointing upward, like a soldier's bayonet." "You saw that and not his face?" once more insisted the coroner, making a final effort to draw some more definite statement out of the man. It would help justice so much if only this witness were less obstinate! No one would believe that he really saw nothing of the face of the man who had twice spoken to him. He may not have seen it clearly, not the upper part of the face perhaps, but surely he saw the mouth that had actually framed the words! But the chauffeur was obstinate. He was not going to swear away the life of a man whom he had not rightly seen, only through a fog as thick as pea soup: this was the fortress behind which after awhile he entrenched himself. In vain did the coroner, pleased at having gained this slight advantage, try to draw him further, explaining to him with the quiet patience of a man moved by official ambition that, far from jeopardizing the life of any man, he might be saving that of an innocent one, falsely accused through circumstantial evidence. In vain did he press and argue, the man was obstinate. After a very long while only, and when the coroner had almost given up arguing and cross-examining, he admitted that he did think that the gentleman who directed him to No. 1 Cromwell Road had a moustache. "But, mind," he added hurriedly, "I won't swear to it, for I didn't rightly see--the fog was that dense in the park. And 'e wasn't the same as the one 'oo told me to go along Piccadilly until 'e stopped me. The dead man done that."