"Because I know Sebastian Melstane, monsieur. We lodged at the same pension. He makes me the confidence that he was going to that place, and, I believe, took these pills with him. Now you have the box, but my friend, where is he?" Monsieur Judas threw out his hands with a fine dramatic gesture, and fixed his crafty eyes on the impassive face of the detective. "Do you read the papers?" asked Octavius, with great deliberation. "Yes; but I read English so bad." "Get some one to translate for you, then," said Fanks, coolly, "and you will see that an unknown man committed suicide at Jarlchester. That man was Sebastian Melstane." "Gave himself the death?" "Yes; read the papers. By the way, Monsieur Judas that is your name, I believe--as you knew Sebastian Melstane, I may want to ask you some questions about him." Monsieur Judas pulled out a card with some writing on it and handed it to Fanks with a flourish. "My name, monsieur--my habitation, monsieur! If monsieur will do me the honour to call at my pension, I will tell him whatever he desires to know." "Humph! I'm afraid that's beyond your power, M. Guinaud," replied Fanks, glancing at the card. "However, I'll call round this evening at eight o'clock; but at present I want to know about these pills." "They were bought by my friend on the 11th," said Judas, showing the entry. "Behold, monsieur, the book speaks it." "Who signed the prescription?" "A doctor, monsieur, a doctor. I cannot say the name, it is hard for my tongue; but, monsieur"--struck with a sudden idea--"you shall see his own writing." Once more he vanished behind the screen, and shortly afterwards reappeared with a sheet of note-paper, which he placed before Octavius. "There it is, monsieur." Fanks took up the paper, and read as follows: R. Acid. Arsen. g i. Pulv. Glycyrrh. gr. xv. Ext. Glycyrrh. gr. xxx. Misce et divide in pilule. No. XII. Sig. Tonic pills. One to be taken before retiring nightly. Jacob Japix, M.D. "I see you made up twelve pills," said Fanks, after he had perused this document. "Yes, monsieur, twelve pills. It is the usual number." Octavius looked thoughtful for a moment, then, turning his back on the assistant, walked to the door, where he stood gazing out at the fog, and thinking deeply in this fashion: "There were twelve pills in the box when Melstane bought it on the 11th of this month. According to his statement to Miss Chickles he took a tonic pill regularly every night. On the 11th, therefore, he took one. Left Ironfields on the 12th, and must have slept in London, as the journey is so long. There he took another pill; and at Jarlchester, on the 13th, he took a third. Dr. Drewey analysed three pills, so that's six accounted for out of the twelve. Exactly half, so there ought only to be six left. But there are eight in the box now. Good Heavens! what is the meaning of those two extra pills?"