“Never,” said Godfrey, firmly. “The man who declares that I did, lies.”
“Very probable, but that won’t prevent his saying it. When you left her in Burford Street, did you meet any one near the house?”
“Not a soul. The street, so far as I could see, was empty.”
“I think you said this morning that the night porter let you in at your hotel? Did you make any remark to him respecting the time?”
“Yes, I said to him when he had opened the door, 'I’m afraid I’m rather late,’ then, looking at my watch, I added, 'Why, it’s half-past twelve!’”
“If he’s blessed with a good memory, he will recollect that,” said Codey. Then with his usual abruptness, he continued, “Which way did you walk from Burford Street?”
“Through the Tottenham Court Road, along Oxford Street, and down Bond Street.”
“A man shall walk it quickly to-morrow morning in order to see how long it will take. If only that hall porter has a good memory, and can be relied upon, this should prove an important point.”
“But surely, my good sir,” put in Sir Vivian, “you do not for a moment suppose that Mr. Henderson will be accused of having killed this woman?”