“Thank God for that!” exclaimed Schuyler Carleton, in a fervent tone.
“Amen,” said Tom. “It’s dreadful enough to think of poor Maddy as she is, but had it been any one else who——”
Unheeding the ejaculations of the two men, Doctor Hills said earnestly, “But, Doctor, if it had not been for the written paper, would you have called it suicide?”
“That has nothing to do with the case,” declared Doctor Leonard testily. “The paper is there, and is authentic. No sane man could doubt that it is a suicide after that.”
“But, Doctor Leonard, it would seem impossible for a woman to stab herself at that angle, and with such an astonishing degree of force; also to pull the dagger from the wound, cast it on the floor, and then to place her arm in that particular position on the table.”
“Why do you say in that particular position?”
“Because the position of her right arm is as if thrown there carelessly, and not as if flung there in a death agony.”
“You are imaginative, Doctor Hills. The facts may not seem possible, but since they are the facts you must admit that they are possible.”
“Very well, Doctor Leonard, I accept your decision, and I relinquish all professional responsibility in the matter.”
“You may do so. There is no occasion for mystery or question. It is a sad affair, indeed, but no crime is indicated beyond that of self-destruction. The written confession hints at the motive for the deed, but that is outside my jurisdiction. Who is the man in the hall? I fancied him a detective.”