"Who signed the prescription?"
"A doctor, monsieur, a doctor. I cannot say the name, it is hard for my tongue; but, monsieur"—struck with a sudden idea—"you shall see his own writing."
Once more he vanished behind the screen, and shortly afterwards reappeared with a sheet of note-paper, which he placed before Octavius.
"There it is, monsieur."
Fanks took up the paper, and read as follows:
R. Acid. Arsen. gi.
Pulv. Glycyrrh. gr. xv.
Ext. Glycyrrh. gr. xxx.
Misce et divide in pilule.
No. XII.
Sig. Tonic pills.
One to be taken before retiring nightly.
Jacob Japix, M.D.
"I see you made up twelve pills," said Fanks, after he had perused this document.
"Yes, monsieur, twelve pills. It is the usual number." Octavius looked thoughtful for a moment, then, turning his back on the assistant, walked to the door, where he stood gazing out at the fog, and thinking deeply in this fashion: "There were twelve pills in the box when Melstane bought it on the 11th of this month. According to his statement to Miss Chickles he took a tonic pill regularly every night. On the 11th, therefore, he took one. Left Ironfields on the 12th, and must have slept in London, as the journey is so long. There he took another pill; and at Jarlchester, on the 13th, he took a third. Dr. Drewey analysed three pills, so that's six accounted for out of the twelve. Exactly half, so there ought only to be six left. But there are eight in the box now. Good Heavens! what is the meaning of those two extra pills?"
Turning sharply round, he walked back to the counter.
"Are you sure you are not making a mistake?" he said, quickly; "you must have made up fourteen pills."