to forget. We all smiled a little sheepishly as we caught each
other's eyes.

"No, I don't think it was a snake," said Godfrey, and again bent
close above the hand. "Smell it, Mr. Goldberger," he added.

The coroner put his nose close to the hand and sniffed.

"Bitter almonds!" he said.

"Which means prussic acid," said Godfrey, "and not snake poison." He
fell silent a moment, his eyes on the swollen hand. The rest of us
stared at it too; and I suppose all the others were labouring as I
was with the effort to find some thread of theory amid this chaos.
"It might, of course, have been self-inflicted," Godfrey added, quite
to himself.

Goldberger sneered a little. No doubt he found the
incomprehensibility of the problem rather trying to his temper.

"A man doesn't usually commit suicide by sticking himself in the hand
with a fork," he said.

"No," agreed Godfrey, blandly; "but I would point out that we don't
know as yet that it _is_ a case of suicide; and I'm quite sure that,
whatever it may be, it isn't usual."

Goldberger's sneer deepened.

"Did any reporter for the _Record_ ever find a case that _was_