“Never at all, sir! Never set eyes on him since! I’ve got three pound fourteen shillings change belonging to him, sir—the bill came to one pound six. But as I say, he never came back. I went into the parlour after seeing them in the road—the French window was slightly open, and the two lamps had been turned down. I thought then that I wouldn’t bother about going to bed—and I set to work clearing away the supper things and tidying up the parlour. Of course, I expected the gentleman back any minute—my idea was that he’d just strolled up the road a bit with the other two. But he never came—never seen nor heard of him since, sir.” The Coroner looked down at the officials and the lawyers. His manner became that of a man who after following various tortuous ways, suddenly finds himself in a _cul-de-sac_. “It is very evident that this is going to be a protracted enquiry,” he remarked. “The police must get on the track of the two men who were with the deceased at the Sceptre Inn on Monday midnight and early on Tuesday morning. I think we had better adjourn now.” “I should like to put one or two questions to the witness,” interrupted the barrister. “Grimsdale, you said that the man who came to you at nine o’clock on Monday evening, and booked a room for the night gave you a five-pound note, out of which you were to pay yourself. Have you still got that note?” “Yes, sir,” answered Grimsdale, pulling out an old-fashioned purse. “Here, sir.” “That note must be handed over to the police,” said the barrister. “Now, another question—‘What sort of man was the stranger? Was he an Englishman?’” “My impression, sir,” replied Grimsdale, “was that he was one of them Americans—from his speech, sir. When I was in Sir James Marchant’s service I saw a lot of American gentlemen: I took this to be one.” “Very good—now just one more question. When you tidied up your parlour, did you find anything, any small article that any of these men might have left? Guests do leave things behind, you know, sometimes.” Grimsdale thrust his hand into another pocket and drew something out. “I did, sir—I meant to mention it. I found this, lying on the supper table.” And having first held it aloft, so that every one present could see it, the landlord laid on the edge of the witness-box a silver-mounted briar-wood tobacco pipe. CHAPTER X THE RING AND THE PIPE The barrister possessed himself of the tobacco pipe, examined it, and passed it up to the Coroner, who in his turn looked it over before handing it to Mr. Fransemmery and his fellow jurymen. It went the round of the twelve and returned to the barrister, who held it up for Grimsdale to look at once more. “You found this—which is a briar-wood tobacco pipe, of superior manufacture, silver-mounted—on the supper-table in your parlour after the three men had gone, Grimsdale?” he asked. “Did you come to the conclusion that one of them had left it there?” “Certain of it, sir.”