Thus encouraged, Godfrey set to work, and told the tale with which by this time my readers are so familiar. The lawyer listened patiently, made a few notes on a sheet of paper as the story progressed, and when he had finished asked one or two more or less pertinent questions. “You say that you returned to your hotel immediately after your interview with the deceased?” “Immediately,” Godfrey answered. “Did you take a cab?” “No,” said Godfrey; “it was a cold night, and I thought the walk would do me good.” “But you drove to the house in a cab?” “I did, and dismissed it at once.” “That was unfortunate. Do you think the driver would know you again?” “I should think it very probable,” said Godfrey. “You were standing under the lamp-post, of course, when you paid him, with the light shining full upon your face?” “I suppose so, as the lamp is exactly opposite the door; but I did not think of that.” “No; but, you see, I must think of these things,” said the lawyer. “And when you returned to your hotel?” “I called for a brandy and soda, and, having drunk it, went to bed.” When he had learned all he desired to know, it was arranged that Mr. Codey should attend the coroner’s court, and watch the case on Godfrey’s behalf; after which they left the office. On reaching the club where Sir Vivian and Godfrey had elected to lunch, they found that the murder was the one absorbing topic of the day. This was more than Godfrey had bargained for; for, when it was remembered that the deceased woman had been his model, he was cross-questioned concerning her on every hand. So unbearable did this at last become, that he proposed to Sir Vivian that they should take a stroll in the park until it should be time for them to set off to the business of the afternoon. When they reached the building in which the inquest was to be held, they discovered that a large crowd had collected; indeed, it was only with difficulty, and after they had explained their errand, that they could gain admittance to the building. Fensden was awaiting them there, still looking pale and worried; also Mr. Codey, the lawyer, appearing even keener than he had done at his office. “Public curiosity is a strange thing,” said the latter, as he looked round the packed court. “Probably not more than five persons now in this room ever saw the dead girl, and yet they crowd here as though their lives depended upon their not losing a word of what is said about her.” At this moment an official came forward, and said something to Godfrey in a low voice. The latter immediately followed him from the room. When he returned he was very white, and he seemed visibly upset. Then the coroner entered, a portly, dignified gentleman, and took his seat, after which the proceedings were opened in due form.