"I went to bed and slept soundly. Next morning I sent the packet of letters to Judith, and went off on a stroll. When I came back at night, I was horrified to learn Sebastian Melstane was dead. The rest you know." "When you spoke to me, did you really and truly believe he had committed suicide?" "Yes, I did," replied Roger, honestly. "I thought he had found out the loss of the letters, and seeing that his hold over Florry Marson was lost, had committed suicide in desperation." "How did you account for the morphia?" "I didn't attempt to account for it. All I knew was that I had secured the letters, that Melstane was dead, and that Florry was safe." "So that's all. I wish you had told me all this at Jarlchester." "I tell you I was afraid to do so. Look how black the case appears against me. I fight with a man here; I follow him down to Jarlchester; I have morphia pills in my possession; I go into his room at night, and in the morning he is found dead of morphia. Why, if I had told all this, I would have been arrested. Florry's name would have come up. That infernal Monsieur Judas would have put his spoke in, and I would very probably have been hanged on circumstantial evidence." "I don't wonder you were afraid," replied Octavius, thoughtfully; "but seeing I was your friend, you might just as well have trusted me." "You are a detective." "I am your old schoolfellow." "Then you believe I am innocent?" "I do. If you were guilty, you would not have told a story so dead against yourself." "Will you shake hands, then?" asked Roger, colouring and holding out his hand. "By all means," replied Fanks, solemnly, and the two friends shook hands with honest fervour. "Now, then," said Octavius, when this ceremony was concluded, "the next thing to be done is to find out who killed Melstane." "It's an impossibility," cried Roger, in despair. "No, I don't say that," answered Fanks, coolly. "At Jarlchester I had nothing to go upon, and yet look what I've discovered." "You are a genius, Octavius." "Egad! I've need to be to unravel this case," said Octavius, smiling. "It's the most difficult affair I ever took in hand." "Do you suspect any one?" "I can't say at present till I get things more in order. The first thing I want to know is, what were the contents of those letters?" "I cannot tell you. I did not read them, of course, but simply packed them up and sent them to Miss Varlins." "Oh, then she has got them?" "No, she hasn't." "Where are they, then?" "Lost." "Lost How so?" "I can't tell you," said Roger, helplessly. "You see, Miss Varlins did not want them sent to the Hall, as Florry Marson might have got hold of them, and if she had, she's such a little fool, and was so much in love with Melstane, that she probably would have sent them straight back." "Well, as they did not go to the Hall, where did they go?"