“Have you identified the body of your husband, shown to you in the mortuary at this court?”

“I have.”

“When did you last see your husband alive?”

“Last Wednesday—a week ago today.”

“Was he then in his usual health?”

“So far as I could see—yes.”

The coroner consulted the papers before him, cleared his throat, and went on in a slightly different tone.

“You and your husband were not living together, I think?”

“We were not formally separated,” said Mrs. Ballantine in a voice from which all expression seemed deliberately excluded. “My house was open to him whenever he cared to use it.”

“And did he use it, from time to time?”

“From time to time—yes. I cannot say exactly how often. It is a large house, and I did not question him as to his movements.”

“On this occasion, a week ago, did you see him at Belgrave Square?”

“Yes, I asked him to come and see me. I had to discuss money matters with him.”

“Did——?” the coroner began another question, but thought better of it. Instead he turned to the barrister who represented Mrs. Ballantine.

“Have you any questions?” he asked.

Counsel had only one question. “Did your husband ever mention to you the address, 27 Daylesford Gardens?”

“No.”

He turned to the coroner. “Will this witness be required any longer?” he asked. “If not, she would be obliged if——”

“By all means,” was the answer. “She may go at once.”

Counsel sat down with the easy conscience of one who has earned his fee, and Mrs. Ballantine nodded her thanks to the coroner and turned to go, as composed as she had come. Neither then nor at any time did she display any sign of emotion. She passed through the throng as though it had not been there and was gone. Mallett was not an impressionable man, but as she left the court he found his eyes following her with admiration and respect. “A hard nut, that woman,” he thought. “No wonder Ballantine went elsewhere for his fun! But she’s got character—and courage. A woman like that would do—anything!”

The police surgeon was the next witness. He brought an air of businesslike efficiency into the court, giving his evidence with a matter-of-fact taciturnity that made it seem positively ordinary. Many of his audience, agape for thrills, felt that they had been in some way cheated. Later in the day, when they opened their evening papers and read the same evidence in all the glory of headlines and leaded type, they were able to recapture the sensations and the drama which had been so oddly missing in the original.