“Of course it’s a suicide,” declared Doctor Leonard in his blustering way; “there is no question whatever. That written confession which you all declare to be in her handwriting is ample proof that the girl killed herself. Of course you had to send for me⁠—the stupid old laws of New Jersey make it imperative that I shall be dragged out many miles away from my home for every death that isn’t in conventional deathbed fashion; but there is no suspicion of foul play here. The poor girl chose to kill herself, and she has done so with the means which she found near at hand. I will write the burial certificate and leave it with you. There is no occasion for the coroner.”

“Thank God for that!” exclaimed Schuyler Carleton, in a fervent tone.

“Amen,” said Tom. “It’s dreadful enough to think of poor Maddy as she is, but had it been anyone else who⁠—”

Unheeding the ejaculations of the two men, Doctor Hills said earnestly, “But, Doctor, if it had not been for the written paper, would you have called it suicide?”