“I believe the name’s on his things,” answered the landlady. “There are some labels of that sort. Well, he asked for a chop to be cooked for him at once, as he was going out. He had his chop, and he went out at exactly one o’clock, saying to me that he expected he’d get lost, as he didn’t know London well at any time, and shouldn’t know it at all now. He went outside there—I saw him—looked about him and walked off towards Blackfriars way. During the afternoon the cap you spoke of came for him—from Fiskie’s. So, of course, I judged he’d been Piccadilly way. But he himself never came in until ten o’clock. And then he brought a gentleman with him.”
“Aye?” said Rathbury. “A gentleman, now? Did you see him?”
“Just,” replied the landlady. “They went straight up to 20, and I just caught a mere glimpse of the gentleman as they turned up the stairs. A tall, well-built gentleman, with a grey beard, very well dressed as far as I could see, with a top hat and a white silk muffler round his throat, and carrying an umbrella.”
“And they went to Marbury’s room?” said Rathbury. “What then?”
“Well, then, Mr. Marbury rang for some whiskey and soda,” continued Mrs. Walters. “He was particular to have a decanter of whiskey: that, and a syphon of soda were taken up there. I heard nothing more until nearly midnight; then the hall-porter told me that the gentleman in 20 had gone out, and had asked him if there was a night-porter—as, of course, there is. He went out at half-past eleven.”
“And the other gentleman?” asked Rathbury.
“The other gentleman,” answered the landlady, “went out with him. The hall-porter said they turned towards the station. And that was the last anybody in this house saw of Mr. Marbury. He certainly never came back.”
“That,” observed Rathbury with a quiet smile, “that is quite certain, ma’am? Well—I suppose we’d better see this Number 20 room, and have a look at what he left there.”
“Everything,” said Mrs. Walters, “is just as he left it. Nothing’s been touched.”
It seemed to two of the visitors that there was little to touch. On the dressing-table lay a few ordinary articles of toilet—none of them of any quality or value: the dead man had evidently been satisfied with the plain necessities of life. An overcoat hung from a peg: Rathbury, without ceremony, went through its pockets; just as unceremoniously he proceeded to examine trunk and bag, and finding both unlocked, he laid out on the bed every article they contained and examined each separately and carefully. And he found nothing whereby he could gather any clue to the dead owner’s identity.