“After supper I went with him to the study. I looked after his wants, getting him a number of books from the shelves, and selecting from his files such notes or manuscript as he asked for. Those are my duties as secretary.” “And then?” “Then he practically dismissed me, saying I might leave for the night. But I remained in the hall window until eleven o’clock.” “Why did you do this?” “Out of consideration for my employer. He was exceedingly busy and if a caller came, I could probably attend to his wants and spare the doctor an interruption.” “Did any one call?” “No one.” “Yet you remained until eleven?” “Yes; I was doing some work of my own, and it was later than I thought, when I decided to go home.” “And you spoke to the Doctor before leaving?” “As is my custom, I tapped lightly at the door and said good-night. This is my rule, when he is busy, and if he makes no response, or merely murmurs good-night, I know there are no further orders till morning, and I go home.” “Did he respond to your rap last night?” “I—I cannot say. I heard him murmur a good-night but if he did, it was so low as to be almost inaudible. I thought nothing of it. Since he did not call out. ‘Come in, Lockwood,’ as he does when he wants me, I paid little attention to the matter.” “And you reached home—when?” “Something after eleven. It’s but a few steps over to the Adams house, where I live.” “Now,” summed up the detective, “here’s the case. You, Mr. Lockwood, are not sure Doctor Waring responded to your good-night. You did not see or hear him when Nogi took in the water tray?” “No; I did not.” “Mrs. Peyton did not see him then, either—though she imagined she heard a paper rustle. Nogi is gone—he cannot be questioned. So, Mr. Lockwood, the last person whom we know definitely to have seen John Waring alive, is yourself when, as you say, you left him at about—er—what time?” “About half-past eight or nine,” said Lockwood, carelessly. “Yes; you left him and sat in the hall window. Now, we have no positive evidence that he was alive after that.” “What!” Lockwood stared at him. “No positive evidence, I say. Nogi went in, but no one knows what Nogi saw in there.” “Come now, Detective Morton,” Lockwood said, coldly, “you’re romancing. Do you suppose for a minute, that if there had been anything wrong with Doctor Waring when Nogi went in with the water, that he would not have raised an alarm?” “I suppose that might have easily have been the case. The Japanese are afraid of death. Their one idea is to flee from it. If that Japanese servant had seen his master dead, he would have decamped, just as he did do.” “But Nogi was here when I went home. He handed me my overcoat and hat, quite with his usual calm demeanor.” “You must remember, Mr. Lockwood, we have only your word for that.” Gordon Lockwood looked at the detective.