“Anything else?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir; this,” and the officer produced the torn half of a man’s visiting-card.
“This is apparently part of one of the deceased’s own cards,” the coroner remarked, holding it before him, while the court saw that it had been torn across obliquely, leaving a jagged edge.
“He seems to have signed his name across the front of it, too, before it was torn,” he added.
“The piece of card was carefully preserved in the inside pocket of his wallet,” the inspector said. “On the back, sir, you will see it is numbered ‘213 G.’”
The coroner turned it over and saw on the back the number and letter as the police-officer had stated.
“There are three others, almost exactly similar,” the inspector went on, producing them carefully from an envelope. “They are numbered ‘103 F,’ ‘91 I,’ and ‘321 G.’”
“Curious,” remarked the coroner, taking them. “Very curious indeed. They are all signed across, yet only half the card is preserved. They have some secret significance without a doubt.”
He glanced across at the stranger, but the face of the latter betrayed no sign of further interest. Indeed, just at that moment, when the whole court was on the tenterhooks of curiosity he looked as though bored by the entire procedure.
“The deceased carried a Smith-Wesson hammerless revolver fully loaded,” the officer added; “but he was so suddenly attacked, it seems, that he had no time to draw it.”