Roger Axton stood looking at the pill-box on the table, and Octavius Fanks stood looking at Roger Axton, the former lost in a fit of painful musing (evident from his pale face, his twitching lips, his startled expression), the latter keenly observant, according to his usual habits. At last Roger with a deep sigh drew his hand across his brow and resumed his seat, while Mr. Fanks, picking up the pill-box, gave it a cheerful rattle as he followed his example. "What a strange coincidence," he said, thoughtfully; "but I'm not astonished. This sort of thing occurs in real life as well as in novels. 'Truth is stranger than fiction.' I don't know who first made that remark, but he was a wise man, you may depend, and wonderfully observant of events before he crystallised his experience in those five words." "It certainly is curious," replied Roger, absently, as though he were thinking of something else. "Fancy finding the name of the town where She--" "With a large S, of course." "Where she lives, printed on a pill-box," finished Roger, and then, after a pause: "What do you think of it, Fanks?" "Think!" repeated Octavius, thoughtfully. "Oh, I think it is the clue to the whole mystery." "Why, what do you mean?" asked Roger, in a startled tone. "What I say," retorted Fanks, twirling the pill-box round and round. "It's not difficult of comprehension. Man, name unknown, comes down here, and dies shortly after his arrival. Inquest; verdict, suicide! Fiddle-de-dee! Murder! And this pill-box is the first link in the chain that will bind the criminal. By the way," said Octavius, suddenly struck with a new idea, "how long have you been at Jarlchester?" "A week." "Oh! Then you were here when the man died?" "I was." "Humph! Excuse my witness-box manner!" "Don't apologise," said Roger, quietly. "Cross-examine me as much as you like. It seems second nature with detectives to suspect every one." "Suspect!" repeated Octavius, in an injured tone. "Good heavens, Axton, what are you talking about? I'd as soon think of suspecting myself, you peppery young ass. But I'm anxious to find out all about this affair, and naturally ask the people who lived under the same roof as the dead man. You are one of the people, so I ask you." "Ask me what?" "Oh, several things." "Well, go on; but I warn you I know nothing," said Roger, gloomily. "I tell you what, young man," observed Mr. Fanks, sententiously, "you need shaking up a bit. This love affair has made you view all things in a most bilious fashion. An overdose of love, and poetry, and solitude incapacitates a human being for enjoying life, so if you are wise--which I beg leave to doubt--you will brace up your nerves by helping me to find out this mystery." "I'm afraid I'd make a sorry detective, Octavius."