e all that time?"

"No, sir, I wasn't. Some of the time I was--some of it I'd my back to
it."

"You never saw any one enter the archway during the time Mr. Herapath
was in the office?"

"No, sir."

"All the same, some one could have come here during that time without
your seeing him?"

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"Well, at last Mr. Herapath came out. Where did he rejoin you?"

"In the middle of the road, sir--right opposite that statue in the
Square gardens."

"Did he say anything particular then?"

"No, sir. He walked sharply across, opened the door, said 'Home' and
jumped in."

"You didn't notice anything unusual about him?"

"Nothing, sir--unless it was that he hung his head down rather as he
came across--same as if he was thinking hard, sir."

"You drove straight home to Portman Square, then. What time did you get
there?"

"Exactly one o'clock, sir."

"You're certain about that time?"

"Certain, sir. It was just five minutes past one when I drove into our
mews."

"Now, then, be careful about this, Mountain. I want to know exactly what
happened when you drove up to the house. Tell us in your own way."

The coachman looked round amongst the listeners as if he were a little
perplexed. "Why, sir," he answered, turning back to Barthorpe, "there
was nothing happened! At least, I mean to say, there was nothing
happened that didn't always happen on such occasions--Mr. Herapath got
out of the brougham, shut the door, said 'Good night,' and went up the
steps, taking his latch-key out of his pocket as he crossed the
pavement, sir. That was all, sir."

"Did you actually see him enter the house?"

"No, sir," replied Mountain, with a decisive shake of the head. "I
couldn't say that I did that. I saw him just putting the key in the
latch as I drove off."

"And that's all you know?"

"That's all I know, sir--all."

Barthorpe, after a moment's hesitation, turned to the police-inspector.

"Is there anything that occurs to you?" he asked.

"One or two things occur to me," answered the inspector. "But I'm not
going to ask any questions now. I suppose all you want at present is to
get a rough notion of how things were last night?"

"Just so," assented Barthorpe. "A rough notion--that's it. Well,
Kitteridge, it's your turn. Who found out that Mr. Herapath wasn't in
the house this morning?"

"Charlesworth, sir--Mr. Herapath's valet," replied the butler. "He
always called Mr. Herapath at a quarter past seven every