It is just possible the cut was made with the left hand, but then the deceased was right-handed.  The absence of any signs of a possible weapon undoubtedly goes to corroborate the medical evidence.  The police have made an exhaustive search in all places where the razor or other weapon or instrument might by any possibility have been concealed, including the bed-clothes, the mattress, the pillow, and the street into which it might have been dropped.  But all theories involving the wilful concealment of the fatal instrument have to reckon with the fact or probability that death was instantaneous, also with the fact that there was no blood about the floor.  Finally, the instrument used was in all likelihood a razor, and the deceased did not shave, and was never known to be in possession of any such instrument.  If, then, we were to confine ourselves to the medical and police evidence, there would, I think, be little hesitation in dismissing the idea of suicide.  Nevertheless, it is well to forget the physical aspect of the case for a moment and to apply our minds to an unprejudiced inquiry into the mental aspect of it.  Was there any reason why the deceased should wish to take his own life?  He was young, wealthy, and popular, loving and loved; life stretched fair before him.  He had no vices.  Plain living, high thinking, and noble doing were the three guiding stars of his life.  If he had had ambition, an illustrious public career was within his reach.  He was an orator of no mean power, a brilliant and industrious man.  His outlook was always on the future—­he was always sketching out ways in which he could be useful to his fellow-men.  His purse and his time were ever at the command of whosoever could show fair claim upon them.  If such a man were likely to end his own life, the science of human nature would be at an end.  Still, some of the shadows of the picture have been presented to us.  The man had his moments of despondency—­as which of us has not?  But they seem to have been few and passing.  Anyhow, he was cheerful enough on the day before his death.  He was suffering, too, from toothache.  But it does not seem to have been violent, nor did he complain.  Possibly, of course, the pain became very acute in the night.  Nor must we forget that he may have overworked himself, and got his nerves into a morbid state.  He worked very hard, never rising later than half-past seven, and doing far more than the professional ‘labour leader.’  He taught, and wrote, as well as spoke and organised.  But on the other hand all witnesses agreed that he was looking forward eagerly to the meeting of tram-men on the morning of the 4th inst.  His whole heart was in the movement.  Is it likely that this was the night he would choose for quitting the scene of his usefulness?  Is it likely that if he had chosen it, he would not have left letters and a statement behind, or made a last will and testament?  Mr. Wimp has found no possible clue to such conduct in his papers.  Or is it likely