"You're out of the Jarlchester wood, at all events."
"Yes, only to plunge into the deeper recesses of the Ironfields wood."
"Well," said Axton, reflectively, "you've proved conclusively that I did not commit the crime."
"You!" shouted Japix, in amazement.
"Yes, I!" replied Roger, serenely. "Just fancy, Doctor, you are sitting with a suspected murderer."
"Not now," remonstrated Fanks, good-humouredly; "if I did suspect you for a moment, you soon cleared yourself in my eyes. But you must admit things looked black against you."
"So black," assented Axton, quickly, "that had the detective been any other than yourself, I should now be in prison awaiting my trial on a charge of attempted murder."
"Possibly," answered Fanks, lighting a fresh cigar; "not only that but even probably. However, you have proved your innocence, and Spolger has proved his."
"Did you suspect him also?" asked the Doctor, chuckling. "I thought as much from your questions to-day, Monsieur Fouché."
"Well, he had the fatal pill-box in his possession; he uses morphia for his Soothers; he hated Melstane, so altogether—"