“Did he speak to any one else while in the bar?” asked the Coroner.
“Yes, while he was talking to me, an older, well-dressed man entered rather hurriedly. The gentleman speaking to me appeared very surprised—indeed, almost alarmed. Then, drawing aside so that I should not overhear, they exchanged a few hurried words, and the elder left by the back exit, refusing the other’s invitation to drink. The younger man glanced at his watch, then turned, finished his whisky leisurely, and chatted to me again. I noticed that he was watching the front door all the time, but believing him to be expecting a friend when, suddenly wishing me a hasty ‘Good-night,’ he threw down a shilling and left.”
“What sort of man was it who spoke to him?” inquired the Coroner quickly.
“He was a military man, for I heard him addressed as ‘Major.’”
“Curious!” the Coroner observed, turning to the jury. “The cab-driver in his evidence says that a certain Major met the pair at Charing Cross Station. It may have been the same person. This coincidence is certainly striking, and one which must be left to the police to investigate. We have it in evidence that the woman and her companion drove away in the cab, leaving the Major—whoever he may be—standing on the platform. The pair drove straight to the Criterion; yet five minutes later the woman’s companion was joined by another Major, who is apparently one and the same.”
The constable who took the body to the hospital then related how, while on duty in Piccadilly Circus, he had been called to the cab, and found the woman dead. Afterwards he had searched the pockets of the deceased, and taken possession of the lady’s dressing-case and the man’s hand-bag—all the luggage they had with them in addition to their wraps. He produced the two bags, with their contents, objects which excited considerable interest throughout the room. In the man’s bag was a suit of dress-clothes, a small dressing-case, and one or two miscellaneous articles, but nothing by which the owner could be traced.
“Well, what did you find in the lady’s pockets? Anything to lead to her identity?” the Coroner asked at last.
“No, sir. In addition to a purse containing some English money, I found a key, a gentleman’s card bearing the name ‘Arnoldo Romanelli,’ and a small crucifix of ivory and silver. In the dressing-case, which you will see is fitted with silver and ivory fittings,” he continued, opening it to the gaze of the jury, “there are a few valuable trinkets, one or two articles of attire, and a letter written in Italian—”
“I have the letter here,” interrupted the Coroner, addressing the jury. “Its translation reads as follows:—
”‘Dear Vittorina,