"Monsieur is pleased to be amusing," he said, at length, with an ugly smile. "Monsieur does me the honour to make my business his own." "I'm glad you see my intentions so clearly, Monsieur Guinaud." They were painfully polite to one another, these two men, but this mutual politeness was of a dangerous kind foreboding a storm. Like two skilful fencers, they watched one another warily, each ready to take advantage of the first opportunity to break down the guard of the other. It was difficult to say who would win, for they were equally clever, equally watchful, equally merciless, and neither of them underestimated the acuteness of his adversary. A duel of brains, both men on guard, and Fanks made the first attack! "Are you aware, Monsieur Guinaud, that you stand in a very dangerous position?" "My faith, no! Not at all." "Then it is as well you should know at once. I am a detective, as you know, and am investigating this affair of your late friend. I suspect some one of the murder." "Very well. Monsieur Axton?" "No." "The dear Spolgers?" "No." Judas shrugged his shoulders! "My faith! I know not, then, the man you suspect." "Yes, you do. I suspect Monsieur Jules Guinaud." The Frenchman was by no means startled, but laughed jeeringly. "Eh, monsieur! Que diable faites-vous dans cette galère?" "You need not jest. I am in earnest!" "Truly! Will monsieur speak plainly?" "Certainly! You say you were a friend of Melstane's. That is a lie. You hated him because he was your successful rival with Miss Marson. You wished him dead, so that you would be free to make your suit to the young lady. The box of tonic pills left your hands for those of Melstane." "Pardon! It went first into the hands of Monsieur Vosk." "Don't trouble to tell lies, Guinaud. I have asked Wosk, and he says he counted the pills, and then gave you the box again--open." "It's a lie!" "Reserve your defence, if you please. When you got that box, you put in those two morphia pills, and Melstane left Ironfields carrying his death in his pocket." "You have the invention, monsieur, I see." "In this scheme for Melstane's death you were prompted by your accomplice, Francis Marson." "Eh! It's an excellent play, without doubt." "You stole some compromising letters of Marson's from that packet of Melstane's, and took them up to him last night." "You are wisdom itself, monsieur." "Those letters form your hold over Marson, and you offered to destroy them on condition that he let you marry Miss Marson." "A miracle of logic! Eh, I believe well." "It is my firm conviction," said Fanks, losing his temper at the gibing tones of the Frenchman, "that what I have stated is the truth, and that you and Marson are responsible for the death of Melstane in the way I have described." "Monsieur is not afraid of the law of libel, evidently." "No; there are no witnesses present." "Ah, you scheme well?" "Pshaw! What answer can you make to my statement?"