"Blind, quite blind," said Octavius, nodding his head mournfully. "I will unfold myself--the immortal bard for the third time. When I find out the name of the deceased, which I can do through that pill-box, I will be able to find out all about his antecedents. Satisfied on that point, it is possible, nay probable, that I may find some one who has ill-feelings towards him." "And therefore poisons him in Jarlchester while they remain at Ironfields," said Roger, ironically. "I congratulate you on your clear-sightedness." "It's puzzling, certainly, very puzzling," replied Fanks, rubbing his head with an air of vexation. "I've got absolutely nothing to work on." "And are going to work on it. Pish! sandy foundations." "Now look here, Roger," cried the detective, with great energy, "let us survey this case from a common-sense point of view. This man couldn't have come down to Jarlchester to commit suicide; he could have done that at Ironfields." "Perhaps he wanted to spare his friends--if he had any--the pain of knowing that he died by his own hand." "Rubbish! Suicides are not so considerate, as a rule. They generally make away with themselves in a most public manner, so as to draw attention to their wrongs. No, I can't and won't believe that this man, who gave no hint of wishing to die, came down here to do so." "Then if he did not kill himself, who did?" "Ah, that's what I've got to find out." "Yes, and what if you don't find out." "Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Murder will out. Clever remark that. But to continue: I always look on both sides of the question. It may be a case of suicide." "It is a case of suicide. I believe the jury are right," said Roger, firmly. "You seem very certain about it," remarked Fanks, a trifle annoyed. "I only judge from what I have heard." "Rumour, mere rumour." "Not at all. Facts, my friend, facts. I allude to the evidence at the inquest." Octavius made no reply at first, but jumping up from his chair, began to walk to and fro with a frown on his face.