"I shall certainly go," answered, Breton. "What's more, I'm going to take Miss Aylmore and her sister. As the gruesome details were over at the first sitting, and as there'll be nothing but this new evidence to-morrow, and as they've never been in a coroner's court"
"Mr. Aylmore'll be the principal witness tomorrow," interrupted Spargo. "I suppose he'll be able to tell a lot more than he told—me."
Breton shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't see that there's much more to tell," he said. "But," he added, with a sly laugh, "I suppose you want some more good copy, eh?"
Spargo glanced at his watch, rose, and picked up his hat. "I'll tell you what I want," he said. "I want to know who John Marbury was. That would make good copy. Who he was—twenty—twenty-five—forty years ago. Eh?"
"And you think Mr. Aylmore can tell?" asked Breton.
"Mr. Aylmore," answered Spargo as they walked towards the door, "is the only person I have met so far who has admitted that he knew John Marbury in the—past. But he didn't tell me—much. Perhaps he'll tell the coroner and his jury—more. Now, I'm off, Breton—I've an appointment."
And leaving Breton to find his own way out, Spargo hurried away, jumped into a taxi-cab and speeded to the London and Universal Safe Deposit. At the corner of its building he found Rathbury awaiting him.
"Well?" said Spargo, as he sprang out: "How is it?"
