suicide made evident."

"I am not so sure of that," he retorted. "If I am any judge of
countenances, and I rather flatter myself I am, this girl had no more
idea she was taking poison than I had. She looked not only bright but
gay; and when she tipped up the paper, a smile of almost silly triumph
crossed her face. If Mrs. Belden gave her that dose to take, telling her
it was medicine----"

"That is something which yet remains to be learned; also whether the
dose, as you call it, was poisonous or not. It may be she died of heart
disease."

He simply shrugged his shoulders, and pointed first at the plate of
breakfast left on the chair, and secondly at the broken-down door.

"Yes," I said, answering his look, "Mrs. Belden has been in here this
morning, and Mrs. Belden locked the door when she went out; but that
proves nothing beyond her belief in the girl's hearty condition."

"A belief which that white face on its tumbled pillow did not seem to
shake?"

"Perhaps in her haste she may not have looked at the girl, but have set
the dishes down without more than a casual glance in her direction?"

"I don't want to suspect anything wrong, but it is such a coincidence!"

This was touching me on a sore point, and I stepped back. "Well,"
said I, "there is no use in our standing here busying ourselves with
conjectures. There is too much to be done. Come!" and I moved hurriedly
towards the door.

"What are you going to do?" he asked. "Have you forgotten this is but
an episode in the one great mystery we are sent here to unravel? If this
girl has come to her death by some foul play, it is our business to find
it out."

"That must be left for the coroner. It has now passed out of our hands."

"I know; but we can at least take full note of the room and everything
in it before throwing the affair into the hands of strangers. Mr. Gryce
will expect that much of us, I am sure."

"I have looked at the room. The whole is photographed on my mind. I am
only afraid I can never forget it."

"And the body? Have you noticed its position? the lay of the bed-clothes
around it? the lack there is of all signs of struggle or fear? the
repose of the countenance? the easy fall of the hands?"

"Yes, yes; don't make me look at it any more."

"Then the clothes hanging on the wall?"--rapidly pointing out each
object as he spoke. "Do you see? a calico dress, a shawl,--not the
one in which she was believed to have run away, but an old black