"So far as I can remember, I have never seen the man before," he answered at last. After replying satisfactorily to a few more questions, he was allowed to retire, and his cook took his place. She was a large, stout woman about thirty years old, with a good deal of that coarse Southern beauty, which consists chiefly in snapping black eyes, masses of dark hair, and good teeth. On catching sight of the corpse, she threw up her hands and uttered a succession of squeals, which she seemed to consider due to the horror of the occasion, and then turned serenely towards the Coroner, and with a slight courtesy stood smilingly awaiting his questions. "What is your name?" he inquired. "Jeanne Alexandrine Argot," she replied. "You are in the employ of Mr. Stuart?" "Yes, sar. I 'ave been with Mr. Stuah, six a years, and he tell you----" "Please look at the deceased, and tell me if you have ever seen him before?" the Coroner hastily interrupted. "No, sar." After answering a few more questions with overpowering volubility, she withdrew, and her husband entered. He was a tall, vigorous man, with large hawk-like eyes, apparently a good deal older than his wife. He bowed to us all on entering, and stood respectfully near the door, waiting to be spoken to. "What is your name?" inquired the Coroner. "Celestin Marie Argot." "You work for Mr. Stuart?" "Yes, sar; I am Meester Stuah's butlair." "Look at this corpse, and tell me if you can identify it as that of any one you know, or have ever seen?" He now glanced for the first time at the body, and I thought I saw his face contract slightly. But the expression was so fleeting that I could not be sure of it, and when he raised his head a few moments later he seemed perfectly composed and answered calmly: "I do not know ze man." Apparently the Coroner was not completely satisfied, for he went on: "You know that this man has been murdered, and that it is your duty to give us any information that might lead to his identification. Have you seen any suspicious persons about the building during the last few days?" "No, sar; nobody,"--but I thought he had hesitated an instant before answering. "You must see a good many people pass up and down the back stairs," the detective remarked; "especially in this hot weather, when you must be obliged to leave the kitchen door open a good deal so as to get a draught." The man cast a hurried, and I thought an apprehensive, glance at Mr. Merritt, and replied quickly: "Yes, sar; ze door is open almos' all ze time, but I 'ave seen nobody." "Nobody?" repeated the detective. "Yes, sar," Argot asserted, still more emphatically. "No vone, excep' ze butchair, ze bakair, and ze ozer tradesmen, of course." "How early are you likely to open the kitchen door? To leave it open, I mean?" "Oh, not till eight o'clock, perhap--Madame Argot, she stay in déshabille till zen." "What time do you go to bed?"