"The true detective mind," returned Mr. Monroe, with his slow
pomposity, "is not dependent on instinct or intuition."

"Oh, I think it is largely dependent on that," I said, "or where
does it differ from the ordinary inquiring mind?"

"I'm sure you will agree with me, Mr. Burroughs," the coroner
went on, almost as if I had not spoken, "that it depends upon a
nicely adjusted mentality that is quick to see the cause back of
an effect."

To me this seemed a fair definition of intuition, but there was
something in the unctuous roll of Mr. Monroe's words that made me
positive he was quoting his somewhat erudite speech, and had not
himself a perfectly clear comprehension of its meaning.

"It's guessing," declared Parmalee, "that's all it is, guessing.
If you guess right, you're a famous detective; if you guess
wrong, you're a dub. That's all there is about it."

"No, no, Mr. Parmalee,"--and Mr. Monroe slowly shook his finger
at the rash youth--"what you call guessing is really divination.
Yes, my dear sir, it is actual divination."

"To my mind," I put in, "detective divination is merely minute
observation. But why do we quibble over words and definitions
when there is much work to be done? When is the formal inquest
to be held, Mr. Monroe?"

"This afternoon at two o'clock," he replied.