"Dear, dear! Now that's exactly what I don't know," said Japix, in a vexed tone; "she does and she doesn't. I was afraid she loved Mr. Scamp Melstane, you know. Women are riddles, eh—yes, worse than the Sphinx. She was with him a good deal, she wrote him letters and all that sort of thing, but it might have been friendship. I don't understand women, you see, I'm a bachelor."
This last speech of the Doctor's seemed too much for Octavius, and he felt anxious to get outside even into the fog and rain in order to breathe. He was so confused by what he had heard that he was afraid to open his lips, lest some word detrimental to his old schoolfellow should escape them. Hastily shaking the Doctor by the hand, he made a hurried promise to see him on the morrow.
"Fog and rain," roared the physician, as Octavius stepped outside; "must expect that now. Eh! ha! ho! ha! November smiles and November tears—principally tears. Yes. Don't forget to-morrow night—the pills—certainly. I will remember. Good-bye. Keep your feet dry. Warm feet and good repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose."
And Japix illustrated his little rhyme by slamming his own door, behind which his big voice could still be heard like distant thunder.
In the fog, in the rain, in the darkness, Octavius Fanks, stopping by a lighted shop-window, pulled out his pocket-book and looked at the memorandum—in shorthand—he had made of his conversation with Roger Axton.
In another moment he had restored the book to its former place, and from his lips there came a low cry of anguish:
"Oh, my old schoolfellow, has it come to this?"
Extracts From A Detectives Note-Book
"It is too terrible . . . I can't believe it . . . He did lie to me, as I thought . . . He has been to Ironfields. He knew the name of Melstane . . . What was he doing at Jarlchester? . . . Why was he there at the same time, in the same house as Melstane? . . . He must have known that the man who died was Melstane . . . He slept in the next room on the night of the murder . . . The door of Melstane's room was ajar in the morning . . . Could Roger have gone into the room and . . . No, no; I can't believe it . . . He would not commit a crime . . . And yet he had morphia pills in his possession . . . What prevented him from getting two pills made extra strong . . . going into Melstane's room at night, and placing them in the box? . . . His motive for doing such a thing? . . . Dr. Japix supplies even that . . . He saw in Melstane a possible rival and wanted him out of the way . . . But what am I writing? . . . He cannot be guilty of this terrible crime . . . Yet everything points to it . . . his presence at Jarlchester . . . his possession of morphia . . . his evasive answers . . . I must find out the truth . . . I can't believe he would act thus, and yet . . .
"Mem.—To write to Axton's London address at once."