"Now what the deuce do you want to know that for?" said Japix, looking puzzled. "Because I think one lady is Miss Judith Varlins, and the other Miss Florry Marson." "Correct so far; but how the--" "And the gentleman's name, Japix? The lean, lank man that looks like the Ancient Mariner in his shore clothes." "Jackson Spolger, a patent medicine millionaire. Inherited it from Papa Spolger. Large fortune, disagreeable man, engaged to marry Miss Marson." "Biography in a nutshell," said Fanks, calmly; "but surely not engaged." "Why not? Are you in love with her yourself?" "No; but I thought Sebastian Melstane--" Dr. Japix uttered an ejaculation not complimentary to Mr. Melstane, and turned fiercely on Fanks. "Sebastian Melstane be--" "Don't," interrupted Octavius, holding up a warning hand; "perhaps he is already." "What do you mean?" "He is dead." "Dead!" "Yes; haven't you read the Jarlchester Mystery?" "That suicide business. Of course; but I did not think--" "The dead man was Melstane. Neither did I until an hour ago." "How did you find out?" asked Japix, gravely. "By means of this," answered Fanks, placing the pill-box on the table. "Tonic pills," read Dr. Japix, wonderingly, "eh! Oh, yes, of course; I prescribed tonic pills for Melstane's nerves. But I don't see how you found out his name by this, nor how you connect the name of that scamp Melstane with the man who died at Jarlchester." "Was Melstane a scamp?" "Out and out," said Japix, emphatically. "He must have been bad if you speak ill of him," observed Fanks, reflectively; "kind of man to have enemies, I suppose?" "I should say plenty." "Humph! I dare say." "Dare say what? Talk about the Jarlchester Mystery, what are you?" "A mystery also, eh, Doctor?" said Fanks, with a smile. "Well, I won't give you the trouble of guessing me. I'll explain myself." The Doctor settled himself in his large chair, placed his large hands on each of his large knees, and observed in his large voice: "Now then!" Whereupon Octavius told him his experience during the Jarlchester inquest, suppressed the conversation and the name of Roger Axton, and finished up by describing how he had discovered the dead man's name from Wosk & Co. "So you see, Japix," said the detective, decisively, "I saw your name on the prescription, and came at once to see you, as I want you to analyse these eight pills. According to your prescription, according to Mr. Wosk, according to the assistant, twelve pills were made up and delivered to Melstane. I can account for half of the twelve, so that ought to leave six; but in that box you will find eight. Now that is not right!" "Certainly not!" remarked the Doctor, gravely regarding the pills; "six from twelve do not leave eight--at least, not by the rules of any arithmetic I'm acquainted with." "So there are two extra pills." "So I see! Two extra pills not made up by Wosk & Co."