The Frenchman was by no means startled, but laughed jeeringly.
"Eh, monsieur! Que diable faites-vous dans cette galère?"
"You need not jest. I am in earnest!"
"Truly! Will monsieur speak plainly?"
"Certainly! You say you were a friend of Melstane's. That is a lie. You hated him because he was your successful rival with Miss Marson. You wished him dead, so that you would be free to make your suit to the young lady. The box of tonic pills left your hands for those of Melstane."
"Pardon! It went first into the hands of Monsieur Vosk."
"Don't trouble to tell lies, Guinaud. I have asked Wosk, and he says he counted the pills, and then gave you the box again—open."
"It's a lie!"
"Reserve your defence, if you please. When you got that box, you put in those two morphia pills, and Melstane left Ironfields carrying his death in his pocket."
"You have the invention, monsieur, I see."