know." Reggie nodded. "You'll tell this suicide story?"
"Sure," said Reggie.
Lomas wiped his forehead. "Damn it, man, I can't leave it like this," he cried.
"Oh, don't be so pedantic. The scoundrel had two murders at least on his soul. We hadn't evidence enough to hang him. He was much too dangerous to live, and he gets his neck broke quietly and without scandal. What's worrying you?"
"And what evidence have you got?"
"Ah, now reason resumes her sway. Let's begin at the beginning. Herbert Charlecote, rather less than a year ago, was at his wits' end for money. His uncle wouldn't give him any. Remember the betting-book and pass-book. But at that time he was his uncle's heir. He arranged with the family doctor, Newton, to have the old man killed. Newton would want to be paid. Probably the arrangement was a bet. Suppose Herbert bet Newton ten thousand to one his uncle wouldn't die within the year. Remember the 'N' in the betting-book. Newton began treating the old man for gastric catarrh. Sent him gallons of medicine. Probably that was poison. But nothing happened because the old man didn't take it. Remember the valet said he had it all put down the sink. I suspect old Charlecote didn't much care for his family doctor. The time began to run out. And then came the
