“So that you knew him quite well?”
“Oh yes, sir.”
“Do you see him now, Mr. Lyell?”
Lyell smiled and half turned in the box.
“Why, of course!” he answered. “There is Mr. Aylmore.”
“There is Mr. Aylmore. Very good. Now we go on. You met Mr. Aylmore close to Waterloo Bridge? How close?”
“Well, sir, to be exact, Mr. Aylmore came down the steps from the bridge on to the Embankment.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who was with him?”
“A man, sir.”
“Did you know the man?”
“No. But seeing who he was with. I took a good look at him. I haven’t forgotten his face.”
“You haven’t forgotten his face. Mr. Lyell—has anything recalled that face to you within this last day or two?”
“Yes, sir, indeed!”
“What?”
“The picture of the man they say was murdered—John Marbury.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“I’m as certain, sir, as that my name’s what it is.”
“It is your belief that Mr. Aylmore, when you met him, was accompanied by the man who, according to the photographs, was John Marbury?”
“It is, sir!”
“Very well. Now, having seen Mr. Aylmore and his companion, what did you do?”
“Oh, I just turned and walked after them.”
“You walked after them? They were going eastward, then?”
“They were walking by the way I’d come.”
“You followed them eastward?”
“I did—I was going back to the hotel, you see.”
“What were they doing?”
“Talking uncommonly earnestly, sir.”
“How far did you follow them?”
“I followed them until they came to the Embankment lodge of Middle Temple Lane, sir.”
“And then?”
“Why, sir, they turned in there, and I went straight on to De Keyser’s, and to my bed.”
There was a deeper silence in court at that moment than at any other period of the long day, and it grew still deeper when the quiet, keen voice put the next question.
“You swear on your oath that you saw Mr. Aylmore take his companion into the Temple by the Embankment entrance of Middle Temple Lane on the occasion in question?”
“I do! I could swear no other, sir.”
“Can you tell us, as near as possible, what time that would be?”
“Yes. It was, to a minute or so, about five minutes past twelve.”
The Treasury Counsel nodded to the Coroner, and the Coroner, after a whispered conference with the foreman of the jury, looked at the witness.
“You have only just given this information to the police, I understand?” he said.
“Yes, sir. I have been in Paris, and in Amiens, and I only returned by this morning’s boat. As soon as I had read all the news in the papers—the English papers—and seen the dead man’s photographs I determined to tell the police what I knew, and I went to New Scotland Yard as soon as I got to London this morning.”
Nobody else wanted to ask Mr. David Lyell any questions, and he stepped down. And Mr. Aylmore suddenly came forward again, seeking the Coroner’s attention.
“May I be allowed to make an explanation, sir?” he began. “I—”
But the Treasury Counsel was on his feet, this time stern and implacable. “I would point out, sir, that you have had Mr. Aylmore in the box, and that he was not then at all ready to give explanations, or even to answer questions,” he said. “And before you allow him to make any explanation now, I ask you to hear another witness whom I wish to interpose at this stage. That witness is—”
Mr. Aylmore turned almost angrily to the Coroner.
“After the evidence of the last witness, I think I have a right to be heard at once!” he said with emphasis. “As matters stand at present, it looks as if I had trifled, sir, with you and the jury, whereas if I am allowed to make an explanation—”
“I must respectfully ask that before Mr. Aylmore is allowed to make any explanation, the witness I have referred to is heard,” said the Treasury Counsel sternly. “There are weighty reasons.”
“I am afraid you must wait a little, Mr. Aylmore, if you wish to give an explanation,” said the Coroner. He turned to the Counsel. “Who is this other witness?” he asked.
Aylmore stepped back. And Spargo noticed that the younger of his two daughters was staring at him with an anxious expression. There was no distrust of her father in her face; she was anxious. She, too, slowly turned to the next witness. This man was the porter of the Embankment lodge of Middle Temple Lane. The Treasury Counsel put a straight question to him at once.
“You see that gentleman,” he said, pointing to Aylmore. “Do you know him as an inmate of the Temple?”
The man stared at Aylmore, evidently confused.
“Why, certainly, sir!” he answered. “Quite well, sir.”
“Very good. And now—what name do you know him by?”
The man grew evidently more bewildered.
“Name, sir. Why, Mr. Anderson, sir!” he replied. “Mr. Anderson!”
XIII
Under Suspicion
A distinct, uncontrollable murmur of surprise ran round the packed court as this man in the witness-box gave this answer. It signified many things—that there were people present who had expected some such dramatic development; that there were others present who had not; that the answer itself was only a prelude to further developments. And Spargo, looking narrowly about him, saw that the answer had aroused different feelings in Aylmore’s two daughters. The elder one had dropped her face until it was quite hidden; the younger was sitting bolt upright, staring at her father in utter and genuine bewilderment. And for the first time, Aylmore made no response to her.
But the course of things was going steadily forward. There was no stopping the Treasury Counsel now; he was going to get at some truth in his own merciless fashion. He had exchanged one glance with the Coroner, had whispered a word to the solicitor who sat close by him, and now he turned again to the witness.
“So you know that gentleman—make sure now—as Mr. Anderson, an inmate of the Temple?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t know him by any other name?”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“How long have you known him by that name?”
“I should say two or three years, sir.”
“See him go in and out regularly?”
“No, sir—not regularly.”
“How often, then?”
“Now and then, sir—perhaps once a week.”
“Tell
