Gimp at once addressed himself to Fanks, who stood by the table with one hand on the jar of morphia and the other in his pocket, looking at the servant to see if he was speaking the truth.
"Mr. Melstane called, sir," said the respectable Gimp, deliberately, "a few weeks ago to see my master. He saw him, and I believe, sir, they had words."
Spolger nodded his head to affirm that such was the case. "I was called in, sir, to show Mr. Melstane out. I did so, and he swore awful."
"And after you showed Mr. Melstane out?"
"I came back, sir, to this room, and found my master much agitated—nerves, I think, sir."
"Yes; a bad attack!"
"My master pointed to a pill-box on the floor, and told me to run after Mr. Melstane with it. I did so, but could not see him, so I took the pill-box down to Mr. Melstane's lodgings that evening."
"The pill-box was in your possession the whole time?"
"Yes, sir! It was wrapped in white paper, and sealed with red wax, sir. I didn't know it was a pill-box till master told me."
"And I knew it was, because Melstane held it out to me and asked me if I made pills like that," said Spolger, savagely. "Well, Mr. Axton, I hope you are satisfied."