"Of course, in all innocence," replied Japix, gravely. "Once having the idea of how to do it in her head, she put it into execution. She made the pills and watched her opportunity to place them in the box unknown to Melstane. How she managed it you know from the story of Monsieur Judas; but I am certain that if Melstane had shown her a little kindness, a little forbearance, she would have relented at the last moment. She was not altogether mad; she hardly knew what she was doing, and it was only when she heard suddenly of Melstane's death that the full enormity of her crime struck her. What was the result, gentlemen? It sent her mad--raving mad. She died, as we know, terribly, but even such a death was a blessing in disguise, for she would never have recovered her reason, and would have died in a madhouse." Every one present having thus given his evidence, Fanks summarized the whole affair in a few shorthand notes in his secretive little pocket-book. "When Florry Marson married Sebastian Melstane, she was sane. The seeds of insanity were in her blood, but had not developed. "Owing to the brutal treatment of her husband and the suggestions of Judas, the hereditary disease became manifested in her in the form of a homicidal mania. "The conversation with Jackson Spolger showed her a method by which she could kill her now hated husband at small risk to herself. "She took advantage of it, made the pills with morphia stolen from Spolger's bottle, and placed the pills in the box during a visit to Binter's boarding-house. "Melstane went down to Jarlchester to await her arrival, and took the pill in all innocence. The sudden news of his death upset the balance of her brain and sent her mad. "From such madness she could never have recovered, so it was most merciful that she died." The Jarlchester Mystery thus having been solved, Fanks replaced his note-book in his pocket, and the company prepared to break up. The first to go was Monsieur Judas, who stood at the door, hat in hand, smiling blandly on the four Englishmen. "Messieurs," said Judas, in his most suave voice, "I make you my best compliments on your brains. You have been all in the dark. I, Jules Guinaud, showed you the light, and with brutal behaviour you have spoken to me. The dear angel is dead, my friend Melstane is dead, so now I leave this foggy climate of yours for my dear France. You have not the politeness, you English! You are all coarse of the style of your bifsteak. Bah! I mock myself of you! But I say no more. Adieu, messieurs, adieu! The politeness of the accomplished French survives the brutality of the bulldog English! Adieu! and for a good-bye English: Damn you all, messieurs!" And the accomplished Judas, beaten on every point, but polite to the end, vanished from the room, and later on from Ironfields itself. Chapter 19 Mr. Fanks Finishes the Case