"Do you know whether she went to the previous sitting? I mean when Hyde was brought up the first time?" inquired Viner. "I remember there were some veiled ladies there—and at the coroner's inquest, too."
"She was at the coroner's inquest, I know," replied Miss Wickham. "I don't know about the other time."
Viner made no remark, and Miss Wickham suddenly lowered her voice and bent nearer to him.
"Why?" she asked. "Are you—suspecting Mrs. Killenhall of anything, Mr. Viner?"
Viner gave her a quick glance.
"Are you?" he said in low tones.
Miss Wickham waved a hand towards the anteroom.
"Well!" she whispered. "What's it look like? She brings me down here in a hurry, on a message which I myself never heard nor saw delivered in any way; after I get here, you are fetched—and here we are! And—where is she?"
"And—possibly a much more pertinent question," said Viner, "where is this Dr. Martincole? Look here: this is a well-furnished room; those pictures are good; there are many valuable things here; yet the man who practises here is only in attendance for an hour or two in an afternoon, and once a week for rather longer in the evening. He can't earn much here; certainly an East End doctor could not afford to buy things like this or that. Do you know what I think? I think this man is some West End man, who for purposes of his own has this place down here—a man who probably lives a double life, and may
