"I think so, sir, but I do not know just how often. I used to take notes for him to her house, and sometimes she would come to his rooms and take supper with him."
"Did she have any key to his rooms?" was my next question.
He said he did not think so, because she always rang for admission when he was there.
I inquired then if he knew of any one who had keys to White's room.
He said he did not think any one had except, probably, the landlady and himself.
"I think," I said, "you testified that you found the door unlatched when you went to the rooms the morning of Mr. White's death. How do you mean it was unlatched?"
"I mean," he answered, "that the catch was so fixed that it could be opened from the outside without a key. This was hardly ever the case that I remember, and never before over night."
I asked him how the catch was fixed when he left, and he answered that he could not say because the door was open, and Mr. Davis still in the room.
"And you did not go back that night?" I asked.
"No, sir," he answered promptly, "certainly not. You saw me going home yourself."