“Singular thing, isn’t it?” mused the detective aloud, “how idiotic men and women can be in their attitude to the supreme things of life.  What is of greater importance than the food we eat and the liquors we drink?  Through them the body reconstitutes itself hourly and daily.  Providence gives us a perfect engine, yet we clog and choke its shafts and cylinders by supplying it haphazard with any sort of fuel and lubricant, no matter how unsuited either may be to its purpose.  Take coffee, for instance.  The physiological action of coffee depends on the presence of the alkaloid caffeine, which varies from 0.6 percent in the Arabian berry to 2 percent in that of Sierra Leone.  Again, the aromatic oil, caffeine, which is developed by roasting, increases in quantity the longer the seeds are kept.  Unfortunately, coffee beans lose weight during storage, so you have a clear commercial reason why grocers should not sell the best coffee, unless under compulsion of an enlightened public opinion.  Now you, Mr. Forbes, would never dream of putting your money into a investment without full and careful inquiry into the history and scope of the proposed undertaking, while our young friend here would snort furiously at a split infinitive or a false rhyme, yet, when I submit the vital problem of the sort of coffee you imbibe—­ the very essence and nutriment of your brains and bodies—­ you hear the kind of answer I receive.”

All this, of course, was excellent fooling, intended to dispel the brooding horror which had suddenly descended upon Forbes since it was borne in on him that the demoniac wrath wreaked on Mrs. Lester was now directed with equal ferocity against his family and himself.

To an extent, Furneaux’s scheme succeeded.  A gleam of interest shot from the millionaire’s eyes.  They lost their introspective look.  He even smiled wistfully.

“You are a man after my own heart, Mr. Furneaux,” he said.  “I had no idea that the Criminal Investigation Department employed philosophers of your caliber.  I suppose that you and I are about to swallow coffee containing indeterminate percentages of the chief constituents you named.”

“One does not look at gift coffee in the cup,” grinned the little man, obviously well pleased with himself.  “But, if ever you two gentlemen favor my obscure dwelling with a visit, and partake of a meal, you will have a strict analysis with every bite and sup.  There is a grocer in Battersea who used to tremble at sight of me.  Now he has learned wisdom, and has quadrupled his trade by publishing learned disquisitions on the nature and quality of each principal article he sells.  You ought to read his treatise on butter.  He is an authority on the dietetic value of jam.  The nutritive properties of his cheese are ruining the local butchers.”

Furneaux’s efforts were rewarded when the really excellent beverage provided by Mrs. Rates was disposed of.  Forbes seemingly atoned for his earlier secretiveness by placing every fact in his possession fully and fairly before his auditors.