Monsieur Judas threw out his hands with a fine dramatic gesture, and fixed his crafty eyes on the impassive face of the detective.
"Do you read the papers?" asked Octavius, with great deliberation.
"Yes; but I read English so bad."
"Get some one to translate for you, then," said Fanks, coolly, "and you will see that an unknown man committed suicide at Jarlchester. That man was Sebastian Melstane."
"Gave himself the death?"
"Yes; read the papers. By the way, Monsieur Judas that is your name, I believe—as you knew Sebastian Melstane, I may want to ask you some questions about him."
Monsieur Judas pulled out a card with some writing on it and handed it to Fanks with a flourish.
"My name, monsieur—my habitation, monsieur! If monsieur will do me the honour to call at my pension, I will tell him whatever he desires to know."
"Humph! I'm afraid that's beyond your power, M. Guinaud," replied Fanks, glancing at the card. "However, I'll call round this evening at eight o'clock; but at present I want to know about these pills."
"They were bought by my friend on the 11th," said Judas, showing the entry. "Behold, monsieur, the book speaks it."