“About that time.”

“And at that place?”

“Yes.”

“That is all I want to ask you, Mr. Aylmore—­just now,” said the Counsel.  He turned to the Coroner.  “I am going to ask you, sir, at this point to call a witness who has volunteered certain evidence to the police authorities this morning.  That evidence is of a very important nature, and I think that this is the stage at which it ought to be given to you and the jury.  If you would be pleased to direct that David Lyell be called—­”

Spargo turned instinctively to the door, having seen the clerk who had sat behind the Treasury Counsel make his way there.  There came into view, ushered by the clerk, a smart-looking, alert, self-confident young man, evidently a Scotsman, who, on the name of David Lyell being called, stepped jauntily and readily into the place which the member of Parliament just vacated.  He took the oath—­Scotch fashion—­with the same readiness and turned easily to the Treasury Counsel.  And Spargo, glancing quickly round, saw that the court was breathless with anticipation, and that its anticipation was that the new witness was going to tell something which related to the evidence just given by Aylmore.

“Your name is David Lyell?”

“That is my name, sir.”

“And you reside at 23, Cumbrae Side, Kilmarnock, Scotland?”

“I do.”

“What are you, Mr. Lyell?”

“Traveller, sir, for the firm of Messrs. Stevenson, Robertson & Soutar, distillers, of Kilmarnock.”

“Your duties take you, I think, over to Paris occasionally?”

“They do—­once every six weeks I go to Paris.”

“On the evening of June 21st last were you in London on your way to Paris?”

“I was.”

“I believe you stayed at De Keyser’s Hotel, at the Blackfriars end of the Embankment?”

“I did—­it’s handy for the continental trains.”

“About half-past eleven, or a little later, that evening, did you go along the Embankment, on the Temple Gardens side, for a walk?”

“I did, sir.  I’m a bad sleeper, and it’s a habit of mine to take a walk of half an hour or so last thing before I go to bed.”

“How far did you walk?”

“As far as Waterloo Bridge.”

“Always on the Temple side?”

“Just so, sir—­straight along on that side.”

“Very good.  When you got close to Waterloo Bridge, did you meet anybody you knew?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Aylmore, the Member of Parliament.”

Spargo could not avoid a glance at the two sisters.  The elder’s head was averted; the younger was staring at the witness steadily.  And Breton was nervously tapping his fingers on the crown of his shining silk hat.

“Mr. Aylmore, the Member of Parliament,” repeated the Counsel’s suave, clear tones.  “Oh!  And how did you come to recognize Mr. Aylmore, Member of Parliament?”

“Well, sir, in this way.  At home, I’m the secretary of our Liberal Ward Club, and last year we had a demonstration, and it fell to me to arrange with the principal speakers.  I got Mr. Aylmore to come and speak, and naturally I met him several times, in London and in Scotland.”