"Then there must be another way of getting into the counting-house."
Inspector Jones rose to assure the Coroner that the place had been thoroughly examined. "There is no way of entering the railway carriage which is called the counting-house, save by the door."
"But if the door was locked, and the key inside, the assassin must have got out by another way. What about the window?"
"It's so small and so barred that a child could not get through it."
The Coroner scratched his head, and looked at Durban. "You were the confidential servant of the deceased," he said helplessly; "perhaps you can explain?"
"I can explain nothing," said Durban promptly, and quite at his ease; "certainly I was Mr. Alpenny's servant, but he made no confidant of me. I took letters to the London office, but what was in them I never knew. I was cook and general servant--that is all."
"You were often in the counting-house?"
"I was never in the counting-house in my life, sir. Mr. Alpenny would not allow either Miss Hedge or myself to enter."
"Humph!" said the Coroner again; "the whole mystery seems to centre round the counting-house. Had Mr. Alpenny enemies?"
"The usual sort a money-lender is bound to have," said Durban, with a shrug. "People sometimes came and called him names; and he told me that many borrowers objected to the high interest he charged."