To my relief, Drouet’s identity was established without any help from me.  The bag which he had left on the pier had been opened at the request of the police and a card-case found with his address on it.  Why he had sent in to Vantine a card not his own, and what his business with Vantine had been, were details concerning which the police could offer no theory, and which I did not feel called upon to explain, since neither in any way made clearer the mystery of his death.

An amusing incident of the inquest was the attempt made by Goldberger to heckle Godfrey, evidently at Grady’s suggestion.

“On the morning after the tragedy,” Goldberger began sweetly, “you printed in the Record a photograph which you claimed to be that of the woman who had called upon Mr. Vantine the night before, and who was, presumably, the last person to see him alive.  Where did you get that photograph?”

“It was a copy of one which Drouet carried in his watch-case,” answered Godfrey.

“Since then,” pursued Goldberger, “you have made no further reference to that feature of the case.  I presume you found out that you were mistaken?”

“On the contrary, I proved that I was correct.”

Goldberger’s face reddened, and his look was not pleasant.

“‘Prove’ is rather a strong word, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It is the right word.”

“What was the woman’s connection with the man Drouet?”

“She had been his mistress.”

“You say that very confidently,” said Goldberger, his lips curling.  “After all, it is merely a guess, isn’t it?”

“I have reason to say it confidently,” retorted Godfrey quietly, “since the woman confessed as much in my presence.”

Again Goldberger reddened.

“I suppose she also confessed that it was really she who called upon Mr. Vantine?” he sneered.

“She not only confessed that,” said Godfrey, still more quietly, “but she told in detail what occurred during that visit.”

“The confession was made to yourself alone, of course?” queried Goldberger, in a tone deliberately insulting.

Godfrey flushed a little at the words, but managed to retain his self-control.

“Not at all,” he said.  “It was made in the presence of Mr. Lester and of another distinguished lawyer whose name I am not at liberty to reveal.”

Goldberger swallowed hard, as though he had received a slap in the face.  I dare say, he felt as though he had!

“This woman is in New York?” he asked.

“I believe so.”

“What is her name and address?”

“I am not at liberty to answer.”

Goldberger glared at him.

“You will answer,” he thundered, “or I’ll commit you for contempt!”

Godfrey was quite himself again.

“Very well,” he said, smiling.  “I have not the slightest objection.  But I would think it over, if I were you.  Mr. Lester will assure you that the woman was in no way connected with the death either of Drouet or of Mr. Vantine.”