"If I have your assurance that Mr. Grant is really innocent of Adelaide's
death, that is sufficient," he said slowly.

"Well, if it pleases you to put it that way, I'm agreeable. Which is your
road? Back to the hotel? I'm for a short stroll. Mind you, no wobbling!
Go straight, and I'll attend to Belcher. But, good Lord! How his eyes
will sparkle when they light on you to-morrow!"

Neither the redoubtable Belcher, nor the Bokfontein Lands, nor poor
Adelaide Melhuish's mother and sister may figure further in this
chronicle. The inquest opened at the appointed hour next day, and was
closed down again for a week with a celerity that was most disappointing
both to the jury and the general public. Of three legal luminaries
present only one, the Treasury man, uttered a few bald words. Belcher and
Norris did not even announce the names of their clients. Norris noticed
that Belcher surveyed Ingerman with a grim smile, but thought nothing of
it until he received a check later in the week. Then he made some
inquiries, and smiled himself.

The foreman of the jury looked a trifle pinched, though his cheeks bore
two spots of hectic color. Mr. Franklin, drawn to the court by curiosity,
happened to glance at him once, and found him gazing at Furneaux in a
peculiarly thoughtful manner.

Elkin, thriving on a diet of tea and eggs, was also interested in the
representative of Scotland Yard. He seemed to ignore Grant entirely.
Doris Martin was not in court. Superintendent Fowler had called about
half, past nine to tell her she would not be asked to attend that day.