“No use, Mr. Carter,� said the chief. “He don’t smoke.�
“Doesn’t smoke? Are you sure?�
“Never smoked in his life. He has often told me that. He said he used to want to smoke because he liked to see others doing it, and they seemed to get so much pleasure out of it, and he often tried it. He has told me that often.�
“And couldn’t he even learn to smoke?�
“No. At least, he said not. He has told it to me often. He couldn’t stay in a room where there was much tobacco smoke, and it used to make him mad because he could not. But there is something about tobacco that he can’t stand. He could never learn to smoke; and I call that hard luck. But come, hadn’t we better get down to business?�
“Yes, I think so. Coroner, have you discovered one of the best proofs that this is a case of murder and not one of suicide?�
“I don’t know that I have. What do you mean?�
“Have you ever seen a case of prussic acid suicide where the eyes were found closed?�
“By Jove! Mr. Carter, you’re right. No, I have not; nor anybody else.�
“Well, what did I tell you?� demanded the chief. “I knew it was murder, just because I know the little girl wouldn’t have killed herself.�