"I think so. Even that, however, is not absolutely certain. As you know, certain poisons in infinitesimal quantities are exceedingly beneficial." "Then we must take it that, presuming these two persons actually died of poison, it must have been by a poison unknown in toxicology?" observed the Coroner. "Exactly," the analyst responded, standing with his hands behind his back and peering through his spectacles at the expectant jury. The Coroner invited the jury to ask any questions of the analyst, but the twelve Kensington tradesmen feared to put any query to the man who had the science of poisoning thus at his fingers' ends, and whose analyses were always thorough and absolutely beyond dispute. He was the greatest authority on poisons, and they could think of nothing further to ask him. Therefore the Coroner politely invited him to sign his depositions. After he had withdrawn, the Coroner, placing down his pen, sighed, leaned back in his chair with a puzzled expression, and once more addressed the twelve men who had been "summoned and warned" before him. They had heard the evidence, he said, and it was now for them to decide whether the two persons had died from natural causes, or whether they had met with foul play. In the circumstances he acknowledged that a decision was extremely difficult on account of the many mysterious side issues connected with the affair, yet he pointed out that if they were in real doubt whether to return a verdict of natural death or of wilful murder, there was still a third course, namely, to return an open verdict of "Found dead," and thus leave the matter in the hands of the police. He was ready, of course, to adjourn the inquiry, but from what he knew of the matter, together with the evidence which had just been given, it was his honest opinion that no object could be obtained in an adjournment, and further by closing the inquest at once they would prevent any inexpedient facts leaking out to the newspapers. The jury retired to consult in an adjoining room, and in ten minutes returned, giving an open verdict of "Found dead." Thus ended the inquiry, and while the law had been complied with, public curiosity remained unaroused, and the police were enabled to work on in secret. With Cleugh I lingered behind, chatting with Patterson and Boyd. "We're keeping observation at Upper Phillimore Place," Boyd explained, in response to my inquiry. "Funny thing that nobody else calls there, and that the servants have never come back." "Have you found the snake that was in the garden?" Cleugh asked of Patterson, with a significant glance at me. "No," he responded, rather confused. "You see any search there might arouse suspicion. Therefore we are compelled to be content with watching for the return of any one to the house." "But you haven't yet succeeded in establishing the identity of the pair," Dick observed.