"I will not trouble you with any lengthy
cross-examination, Professor Coram, since I gather that you were
in bed at the time of the crime and could know nothing about it.
I would only ask this. What do you imagine that this poor
fellow meant by his last words: `The Professor -- it was she'?"
The Professor shook his head.
"Susan is a country girl," said he, "and you know the incredible
stupidity of that class. I fancy that the poor fellow murmured
some incoherent delirious words, and that she twisted them into
this meaningless message."
"I see. You have no explanation yourself of the tragedy?"
"Possibly an accident; possibly -- I only breathe it among
ourselves -- a suicide. Young men have their hidden troubles --
some affair of the heart, perhaps, which we have never known.
It is a more probable supposition than murder."
"But the eye-glasses?"
"Ah! I am only a student -- a man of dreams. I cannot explain
the practical things of life. But still, we are aware, my friend,
that love-gages may take strange shapes. By all means take
another cigarette. It is a pleasure to see anyone appreciate
them so.
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