“‘Did you part good friends?’

“‘On my side absolutely so.’

“‘But not on his?’ insisted the coroner.

“’I think he felt naturally annoyed that he had been so ill-advised by his solicitors.’

“’And you made no attempt later on in the day to adjust any ill-feeling that may have existed between you and him?’ asked the coroner, marking with strange, earnest emphasis every word he uttered.

“’If you mean did I go and see my brother again that day—­no, I did not.’

“’And your lordship can give us no further information which might throw some light upon the mystery which surrounds the Hon. Robert de Genneville’s death?’ still persisted the coroner.

“‘I am sorry to say I cannot,’ replied the Earl of Brockelsby with firm decision.

“The coroner still looked puzzled and thoughtful.  It seemed at first as if he wished to press his point further; every one felt that some deep import had lain behind his examination of the witness, and all were on tenter-hooks as to what the next evidence might bring forth.  The Earl of Brockelsby had waited a minute or two, then, at a sign from the coroner, had left the witness-box in order to have a talk with his solicitor.

“At first he paid no attention to the depositions of the cashier and hall porter of the Castle Hotel, but gradually it seemed to strike him that curious statements were being made by these witnesses, and a frown of anxious wonder settled between his brows, whilst his young face lost some of its florid hue.

“Mr. Tremlett, the cashier at the hotel, had been holding the attention of the court.  He stated that the Hon. Robert Ingram de Genneville had arrived at the hotel at eight o’clock on the morning of the 13th; he had the room which he usually occupied when he came to the ‘Castle,’ namely, No. 21, and he went up to it immediately on his arrival, ordering some breakfast to be brought up to him.

“At eleven o’clock the Earl of Brockelsby called to see his brother and remained with him until about twelve.  In the afternoon deceased went out, and returned for his dinner at seven o’clock in company with a gentleman whom the cashier knew well by sight, Mr. Timothy Beddingfield, the lawyer, of Paradise Street.  The gentlemen had their dinner downstairs, and after that they went up to the Hon. Mr. de Genneville’s room for coffee and cigars.

“‘I could not say at what time Mr. Beddingfield left,’ continued the cashier, ’but I rather fancy I saw him in the hall at about 9.15 p.m.  He was wearing an Inverness cape over his dress clothes and a Glengarry cap.  It was just at the hour when the visitors who had come down for the night from London were arriving thick and fast; the hall was very full, and there was a large party of Americans monopolising most of our personnel, so I could not swear positively whether I did see Mr. Beddingfield or not then, though I am quite sure that it was Mr. Timothy Beddingfield who dined and spent the evening with the Hon. Mr. de Genneville, as I know him quite well by sight.  At ten o’clock I am off duty, and the night porter remains alone in the hall.’