Mr. Dodd was a gentleman cherishing a just grudge. By the accident of bringing him into day-service instead of night-service, when there was a murder up her sleeve, Fate had balked him of his legitimate rights in life. Notoriety had been near him, but it had escaped. Mr. Dodd's self-satisfaction, however, was not easily downed. He had still a card to play, and he played it as jauntily as if doom had not despoiled him of his due. He smiled. And he had a right to. The first important question asked him ran—"On the day after Mr. Ingham's return from Europe—the day, in fact, of his death—did Mr. Ingham have any callers?"
"Yes, sir. He had one."
Interest leaped to him. He bloomed with it.
Apart from interruptions, his story ran—"Yes, sir. A lady. Quite a good-looker. Medium height. Might make you look round for a white horse; but curls, natural. Very neat dresser and up-to-date. Cute little feet. She wouldn't give her name. But not one o' that sort, you understand. She came up to me—the telephone girl was sick and I was onto her job—and she says to me, very low, as if she'd kind of gone back on herself,—'Will you kindly tell Mr. James Ingham that the lady he expects is here?' He came down livelier than I'd ever known him, and she said it was good of him to see her and they sat down on the window-seat. That's one thing where the Van Dam's on the bum—no parlor. I was really sorry for the little lady—no, not short, but the kind a man just naturally calls little—she was so nervous and she talked about as loud as a mouse; I guess he felt the same way, for he says, 'Won't you come upstairs to tell me all this? We shall be quite undisturbed,' he says. And while they were waiting for the elevator—the hall-boy wasn't much on running it—she says to him, 'You understand; I don't want to get Christina into any trouble.' And he says, 'Of course; that is all quite understood.' In about half an hour down they came together and he had his hat. He wanted to send her off in a cab, but she wouldn't let him. The minute she was gone he says to me, ''Phone for a taxi!' They didn't answer, and he says, 'Ring like the devil!' It hadn't stopped at the door when he was in it and off."
"You couldn't, of course, hear his direction?"
"Nop! He got back about six—chewing the rag, but on the quiet. Went out in his dress suit about seven-thirty. I went off at eight."
He was dismissed, strutting.
"And now let us get down to business. If you please," said the coroner, "Miss Christina Hope."