“I knew about the arrangement whereby the keys were kept at the sweet shop. I had announced that I was going into the country that day, travelling into Essex by the London, Tilbury and Southend from Fenchurch Street. I took the Underground, apparently to Aldgate, but got out at Aldersgate Street. From here I walked down the Barbican, saw Martin leave his office, go to lunch, and finally book at Aldersgate Street to Praed Street. I immediately telephoned from one of the boxes there to Mr. Briggs, who had the keys, saying that I was the tenant of Number 407, and asking him to look out for a Mr. Martin, and give him the keys. I then went on to Fenchurch Street, spent a happy and profitable day in the country, and returned home to hear of the death of Mr. Martin. I was, I confess, slightly annoyed to find that it had been attributed to suicide. But then, I had never anticipated that Martin would bring an automatic with him. But perhaps I weary you with these details, Dr. Priestley?”