"I don't believe in morphia pills," remarked Japix, rising to accompany his guest to the door. "I never prescribe them. Oh, yes, by the way, I did prescribe some for a Mr. Axton." Octavius, who was going out of the door, turned suddenly round with a cry of horror. "Roger Axton!" "Yes; do you know him? Why, good gracious, what's the matter?" For Octavius Fanks, trembling in every limb, had sunk into a chair near the door. "Are you ill? Are you ill?" roared the Doctor, anxiously. "Here, let me get you some brandy." "No, no!" said Fanks, recovering himself with a great effort, though his face was as pale as death. "I'm all right. I--I used to know Roger Axton, and the name startled me." "Unpleasant associations," growled Japix, rubbing his large head in a vexed manner. "I hope not--dear, dear--I trust not. I liked the young fellow. A good lad--a very good lad." Fanks at once hastened to dispel the Doctor's distrust. "No! nothing unpleasant," he said, hurriedly: "he was my schoolfellow, and I haven't seen him for ten years." Not a word about the meeting at Jarlchester, even to genial Dr. Japix, for the vague fears which had haunted the detective's mind were now taking a terrible shape--terrible to himself, more terrible to Roger Axton. "I did not know Axton had been at Ironfields," he said at length, in a hesitating manner. "Oh, yes, bless you! he was here for some time," cried Japix, cheerily; "I saw a good deal of him." "What was his reason for staying down here?" "Aha, aha!" thundered Japix, roguishly, "eh! you saw the reason leave my house to-day. A dark, queenly reason, and as good as gold." "You allude to Miss Varlins." "Of course. Ho! ho! 'Love's young dream.' Tommy Moore's remark, eh! 'Nothing half so sweet in life.' No doubt. I have no practical experience of it myself, being a bachelor; but Axton! ah! he thought Moore was right, I'll swear, when he was beside Judith Varlins." Every word that dropped from the good Doctor's lips seemed to add to that hideous terror in the detective's mind, and he could hardly frame his next question, so paralysed he was by the fearful possibility of "what might be." "I suppose she loves him?" "Dear, dear! Now that's exactly what I don't know," said Japix, in a vexed tone; "she does and she doesn't. I was afraid she loved Mr. Scamp Melstane, you know. Women are riddles, eh--yes, worse than the Sphinx. She was with him a good deal, she wrote him letters and all that sort of thing, but it might have been friendship. I don't understand women, you see, I'm a bachelor." This last speech of the Doctor's seemed too much for Octavius, and he felt anxious to get outside even into the fog and rain in order to breathe. He was so confused by what he had heard that he was afraid to open his lips, lest some word detrimental to his old schoolfellow should escape them. Hastily shaking the Doctor by the hand, he made a hurried promise to see him on the morrow.