CHAPTER XXXII.
Mr.Sabin, although he had registered at the hotel under his accustomed pseudonym, had taken no pains to conceal his identity, and was well known to the people in authority about the place.

He was received with all the respect due to his rank.
"Your Grace will, I trust, accept my most sincere apologies for disturbing you," Mr.Hertz, the manager, said, rising and bowing at his entrance.

"We have here, however, an emissary connected with the police come to inquire into the sad incident of this afternoon.

He expressed a wish to ask your Grace a question or two with a view to rendering your Grace's attendance at the inquest unnecessary." Mr.Sabin nodded.
"I am perfectly willing," he said, "to answer any questions you may choose to put to me." A plain, hard-featured little man, in a long black overcoat, and holding a bowler hat in his hand, bowed respectfully to Mr.Sabin.
"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said.

"My name is John Passmore.
We do not of course appear in this matter unless the post-mortem should indicate anything unusual in the circumstances of Duson's death, but it is always well to be prepared, and I ventured to ask Mr.Hertz here to procure for me your opinion as regards the death of your servant." "You have asked me," Mr.Sabin said gravely, "a very difficult question." The eyes of the little detective flashed keenly.
"You do not believe then, sir, that he died a natural death ?" "I do not," Mr.Sabin answered.
Mr.Hertz was startled.