he certainly did _not_ recognize the man in the tweed suit, the
eminent lawyer, after twenty minutes' cross-examination, had so
completely upset the stockbroker's equanimity that it is very likely he
would not have recognized his own office-boy.

"But through all his flurry and all his annoyance Mr. Andrew Campbell
remained very sure of one thing; namely, that the lady was alive and
cheerful, and talking pleasantly with the man in the tweed suit up to
the moment when the latter, having shaken hands with her, left her with
a pleasant '_Au revoir_! Don't be late to-night.' He had heard neither
scream nor struggle, and in his opinion, if the individual in the tweed
suit had administered a dose of poison to his companion, it must have
been with her own knowledge and free will; and the lady in the train
most emphatically neither looked nor spoke like a woman prepared for a
sudden and violent death.

"Mr. James Verner, against that, swore equally positively that he had
stood in full view of the carriage door from the moment that Mr.
Campbell got out until he himself stepped into the compartment, that
there was no one else in that carriage between Farringdon Street and
Aldgate, and that the lady, to the best of his belief, had made no
movement during the whole of that journey.

"No; Frank Errington was _not_ committed for trial on the capital
charge," said the man in the corner with one of his sardonic smiles,
"thanks to the cleverness of Sir Arthur Inglewood, his lawyer. He
absolutely denied his identity with the man in the tweed suit, and swore
he had not seen Mrs. Hazeldene since eleven o'clock in the morning of
that fatal day. There was no _proof_ that he had; moreover, according to
Mr. Campbell's opinion, the man in the tweed suit was in all probability
not the murderer. Common sense would not admit that a woman could have a
deadly poison injected into her without her knowledge, while chatting
pleasantly to her murderer.

"Mr. Errington lives abroad now. He is about to marry. I don't think any
of his real friends for a moment believed that he committed the
dastardly crime. The police think they know better. They do know this
much, that it could not have been a case of suicide, that if the man who
undoubtedly travelled with Mrs. Hazeldene on that fatal afternoon had no
crime upon his conscience he would long ago have come forward and thrown
what light he could upon the mystery.

"As to who that man was, the police in