"That the deceased (name unknown) died on the morning of the 13th of November, through an overdose of morphia taken by himself during a temporary fit of insanity."
Having thus relieved their minds to their own satisfaction, this assemblage of worthies—asinine for the most part—went their several ways quite convinced that they had solved the Jarlchester Mystery.
"The fools," said Mr. Fanks, scornfully, slipping the pill-box, which had been left on the table, into his pocket. "They think they've got to the bottom of this affair. Why, they don't know what they're talking about."
"You don't think it's suicide?" asked Sergeant Spills, crisply, rather nettled at the poor opinion Mr. Fanks entertained of the Jarlchester brains.
"No, I don't," retorted the detective, coolly; "but I think it's a murder, and an uncommonly clever murder, too."
"But your reasons?" demanded Spills, with wooden severity.
"Ah, my reasons," replied Mr. Fanks, reflectively. "Well, yes! I've got my reasons, but they wouldn't be intelligible to you."
Extracts From a Detective's Note-Book
"A curious case, this Jarlchester Mystery—I must confess myself puzzled . . . From Drewey's evidence deceased died of morphia . . . Pills only contain arsenic . . . can't be any connection between the death and those pills . . . Can't find out where deceased purchased morphia . . . Perhaps Coroner right, and he brought it from London . . . Examined clothes of deceased . . . well made . . . fashionable . . . shabby . . . Qy., seedy swell? . . . such a one might commit suicide . . . Doubtful as to nerve . . .
". . . Don't understand that open door . . . ajar . . . nervous man wouldn't sleep with door ajar . . . absurd . . . Qy., could any one have entered room during night? . . . Impossible, as deceased a stranger here . . .