Du Pine, looking haggard and careworn, came forward. He took the oath in a nervous fashion, holding the Testament as though he were afraid it would bite him, and breathed deeply two or three times before he answered the questions put to him.

“Your name is Hector Du Pine?” asked the coroner.

“Yes.”

“And do you live at 92 Fitz-James Avenue, St. John’s Wood?”

“I do.”

“Are you the secretary of the London and Imperial Estates Company?”

“Yes—that is—yes, I am.”

“Of which the deceased was the chairman?”

Mr. Du Pine cleared his throat, bared his teeth in a nervous grin, and sighed rather than said: “He was.”

“When did you last see the deceased?”

“About five o’clock in the afternoon of last Friday.”

“Was that at the offices of the London and Imperial Estates Company?”

“Yes, I should say,” Mr. du Pine hastened to correct himself, “it was just outside the offices. On the pavement.”

“You were outside the offices on the pavement with him?”

“No. I was inside, at my window.”

“You were watching out of your window and saw him go?”

“Just so.”

“Did you see which way he went?”

“No, I don’t think I did. . . . No, decidedly no.”

“You had no particular reason for watching, I suppose?” suggested the coroner.

Mr. Du Pine’s eyelids flickered once or twice before he answered: “No—no particular reason.”

“Was he alone then?”

“He was.”

“Had he anything with him?”

“Just an umbrella—nothing else.”

“Had you been talking to him before he left?”

“Oh, yes—just before.”

“And did he seem in normal health and spirits then?”

“Quite normal, so far as his health went,” answered the secretary. Then in lowered tones he added: “He was, of course, rather worried about business matters.”

“And I suppose he had been discussing these business matters with you?”

“Yes. Oh, yes, he had.”

“Did he tell you where he was going when he left?”

“No. Oh, no. He was not—not a very communicative man, apart from business.”

“Did he ever mention No. 27 Daylesford Gardens to you at any time?”

“Certainly not.”

“Thank you,” said the coroner, with a nod of dismissal. But Mr. Du Pine had still something to say.

“I think I ought to mention,” he said breathlessly, his thin hands clutching the rail of the witness-box as though he were afraid he might be forcibly removed before he had finished, “I might say, that Mr. Ballantine had expressed himself that morning as being very much concerned, alarmed indeed——”

“About business matters. You have told us that already,” interjected the coroner.

“No, not about business,” persisted the witness, “there was that, of course, as well. But I mean he seemed to be alarmed in a personal way.”

“As to his safety, do you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you the cause of this alarm you speak of?”