"Rixton."
"It is very well—that name, Monsieur Fanks," replied Judas, with a mocking smile.
"You know my real name, I see," rejoined Octavius, without moving a muscle of his face. "I compliment you on your penetration."
"Eh, it is not much," said the Frenchman, with a deprecatory shrug. "Monsieur Vosk he read to me the papers of Jarlcesterre, and I find one Monsieur Fanks, agent of the police, to be present. He has the box which my poor friend had for the pills. A stranger comes to me and shows the same box, and I say: 'Monsieur Fanks.' Is that not so?"
"Well, you've read the papers," observed Fanks, slowly, "and know all the circumstances of your friend's death."
"The papers say he gave himself the death, monsieur."
"And what do you say?"
"Eh, I do not know," replied Monsieur Judas, shrugging his shoulders, and opening his eyes to their fullest extent (the guileless look). "What is the opinion of monsieur?"
Mr. Fanks thought a moment or two before replying. He wanted to find out all about Melstane's past life, and no one could tell him so much as the fellow-lodger of the dead man. Judas, however, was no ordinary man, and would not speak freely unless he knew the whole circumstances of the case. Now Fanks did not trust Judas in any way. He did not like his appearance, nor his manner, nor anything about him, and would have preferred him to remain in ignorance of his (Fanks') suspicions. But as he could not find out what he wanted to know without telling Judas his suspicions, and as he could not tell Judas his suspicions without letting him know more than he cared to, Octavius was rather in a dilemma.
Guinaud saw this and put an end to this hesitation in a most emphatic fashion.