"And where is that bill now?" asked the former. "Have you brought it with you?"
"I have, sir. It's been in and out of the till twenty times to-day. I haven't known what to do with it. I don't like to think wrong of anybody, but when I heard that Mrs. Webb (God bless her!) was murdered last night for money, I couldn't rest for the weight of this thing on my conscience. Here's the bill, sir. I wish I had let the old man rap on my door till morning before I had taken it from him."
They did not share this feeling. A distinct and valuable clew seemed to be afforded them by the fresh, crisp bill they saw in his hand. Silently Dr. Talbot took it, while Mr. Fenton, with a shrewd look, asked:
"What reasons have you for calling this mysterious customer old? I thought it was so dark you could not see him."
The man, who looked relieved since he had rid himself of the bill, eyed the constable in some perplexity.
"I didn't see a feature of his face," said he, "and yet I'm sure he was old. I never thought of him as being anything else."
"Well, we will see. And is that all you have to tell us?"
His nod was expressive, and they let him go.
An hour or so later Detective Knapp made his reappearance.
"Well," asked the coroner, as he came quietly in and closed the door behind him, "what's your opinion?"