"Ah; then it is a case of murder?"
"So you say, sir; the secret society to which this man belongs, would call it a punishment."
"How do you know that this man belongs to a secret society. Do you recognise the body?"
"No, sir. The man is nameless so far as I am concerned. There are no marks on his linen or clothes; and there are no papers in his pockets likely to identify him. Oh, believe me, sir, the society has done its work well."
"You seem to be very confident about your secret society?"
The doctor bent over the body, and rolled up the shirt sleeve of the left arm. Between elbow and shoulder there appeared a swollen mark in the shape of a rude cross, surrounded by a wheel; violet in colour, and slashed across with a knife. To this he pointed in silence.
"I see what you mean," said Fanks, twisting his signet ring; always a sign of perplexity with him. "The secret mark of the society has been obliterated."
"Precisely. Now you can understand, sir, why I infer that this man was a traitor. Evidently the negro--of whose presence Mrs. Boazoph informed me--was the emissary of the society, and killed this traitor by poison. Afterwards, as was natural, he obliterated the secret mark by drawing his knife across it."
"He did not do his work thoroughly then, Doctor. The secret mark is a cross."
"The secret mark is more than a cross, sir," replied the doctor, "else you may be sure that the negro would have obliterated it more perfectly."