ne such a grudge against
Dr. Baumgartner as to wish to take his life, the witness answered in the
negative, and the coroner bowed as much as to say that of course they all
knew the character of the murder, but he had put the question for form's
sake. The only one which caused her a moment's hesitation arose from a
previous answer, which connected the doctor's early ramblings with his
hobby of instantaneous photography. Had he his camera with him that
morning? Phillida thought so. Why? Well, he always did take it out, and
it certainly was not in the house. Mr. Upton wiped his forehead, for he
knew that his boy's name had been on the tip of the witness's tongue. And
there was a sensation in court as well; for here at last was a bone for
the detectives, who obtained a minute description of the missing camera,
but grumbled openly that they had not heard of it before.

"They never told me they hadn't got it," explained Phillida to the
coroner, who made her his courteous bow, and permitted her to leave the
court on the conclusion of her evidence.

On the stairs Mr. Upton paid her compliments that made her wince as much
as the crude grip of his hand; but he was tact itself compared with his
friend Mr. Thrush, who sought an interview in order to ply the poor girl
there and then with far more searching questions than she had been
required to answer upon oath. She could only look at Mr. Upton in a way
that secured his peppery intervention in a moment. The two men had
scarcely seen each other since the morning, and the ironmaster thought
they had enough to say to each other without bothering Miss Platts just
then; they accordingly adjourned to Glasshouse Street, and Phillida was to
have gone on to the hotel; but she made them drop her at a shop near
Sloane Square on the pretext of seeing about her mourning.

Phillida had promised to drive straight back to Trafalgar Square and order
tea for herself if Tony had not appeared; but she did not drive straight
back. She had a curious desire to see the place where the murder had been
committed. It had come upon her at the inquest, while listening to the
constable who had found the body, her predecessor in the witness-box. She
had failed to follow his evidence. He had described that portion of his
beat which had brought him almost on the scene of the murder, almost at
the moment of its commission. It included only the short section of
Cheyne Walk between Oakley Street and Ch