"We found it stuffed in Maitland's outside coat pocket," he
explained.

It was dateless and brief:

Dearest Madeline:

May God in his mercy forgive me for what I am about to do. I have
just seen Dr. Ross. He has told me the nature of your illness. I
cannot bear to think that I am the cause, so I am going simply to
drop out of your life. I cannot live with you, and I cannot live
without you. Do not blame me. Always think the best you can of me,
even if you could not give me all. Good-bye.

Your distracted husband,

PRICE.

At once the idea flashed over me that Maitland had found himself
suffering from some incurable disease and had taken the quickest
means of settling his dilemma.

Kennedy looked up suddenly from the note.

"Do you think it was a suicide?" asked the coroner.

"Suicide?" Craig repeated. "Suicides don't usually write on
typewriters. A hasty note scrawled on a sheet of paper in
trembling pen or pencil, that is what they usually leave. No, some
one tried to escape the handwriting experts this way."