Mr. Smithson was now in the witness-box, the Manager of the Goodwood Hotel, Bloomsbury Square. That was where Eldridge had stayed in London during his weekly visits. It was, again, very simple to follow. Eldridge had slept in the hotel every Tuesday night, but had never appeared at his house in Eastrepps till the following Thursday at noon. His housekeeper had always supposed him to be in London on Wednesday, but that was only a blind. This was the famous alibi, of which more than enough had already been heard.
But Sir Henry was on his feet.
"When did Mr. Robert Eldridge first book a room in your hotel, Mr. Smithson?"
The Manager paused a moment before answering.
"I should have to consult the books," he said, "but I fancy it was at the end of January or the beginning of February of thi
