"None whatever," said Mr. Flexen. "What about the inquest? I suppose we'd
better have it as soon as possible."

"Yes. Tomorrow morning, if you can," said the doctor, rising.

"Very good. Send word to the coroner at once, Perkins. Don't go yourself.
I shall want you here," said Mr. Flexen.

He shook hands with the doctor and bade him good-day. As Inspector
Perkins went out of the room to send word to the coroner, he bade him
send Elizabeth Twitcher to him.

She was not long coming, for, in obedience to Olivia's injunction, she
was engaged in learning what the other servants knew, or thought they
knew, about the murder.

When she came into the dining-room, Mr. Flexen's keen eyes examined her
with greater care than he had given to the other servants. On Jane
Pittaway's showing, she should prove an important witness. Now Elizabeth
Twitcher was an uncommonly pretty girl, dark-eyed and dark-haired, and
her forehead and chin and the way her eyes were set in her head showed
considerable character. Mr. Flexen made up his mind on the instant that
he was going to learn from Elizabeth Twitcher exactly what Elizabeth
Twitcher thought fit to tell him and no more, for all that he perceived
that she was badly scared.

He did not beat about the bush; he said: "You had a conversation with
James Hutchings last night, about eleven o'clock, in the blue
drawing-room. Did you let him in?"