is man, in a word, denounced by this witness which is worth
all other witnesses in the world! This assassinated man cast a last look
upon his murderer as he called for aid; a last cry for 'Help!' in the
death rattle!--and this man says: 'I do not know!' But the dead man
knew; and the kodak knows, also. It has no passion, no anger, no hate,
because it registers what passes; fixes that which is fleeting!"

Bernardet was obstinate in his conviction. He was perfectly rooted in
it. What if he had not persisted in believing that photography would
reveal the truth? What weighty reason, what even acceptable one was
there which obliged Dantin to retain silent in the presence of the
Examining Magistrate and his registrar--in the secret interview of an
examination--when in order to escape a prison, an accusation, he had
only to speak two words? But if Dantin said nothing, was it because he
had nothing to say? If he had given no explanation, was it because he
had none to give? An innocent man does not remain silent. If at the
instant when M. Ginory pressed the ivory button the other day, if the
man had been able to defend himself, would he not have done it? One knew
the secret reason of criminals for keeping silent. Their best reason is
their guilt.

Only, it seemed now certain that Dantin, although guilty, had an
accomplice. Yes, without doubt, the man with the sombrero, the seller of
the portrait. Where could he now be in hiding?

"Not easy," Bernardet repeated the words: "Not easy; no, not easy at all
to run him out of his rabbit hutch."

The Woman in Black, the visitor, would be another important clue. On
this side the situation seemed a simple one. Or was this woman also an
accomplice, and would she remain silent, hidden in the Province? Or
would the death of Rovere draw her to Paris, where she might be
recognized and become a witness for Justice?

But the days passed. What was called the mystery of the Boulevard de
Clichy continued to interest and excite the public. Violent and
perplexing Parliamentary discussions could not distract attention from a
crime committed in broad daylight, almost as one might say, in the
street, and which made one doubt the security of the city, the
efficiency of the police. The fall of a Ministry, predicted each morning
and anticipated in advance, could not thrust aside morbid interest in
this murder. The death of the ex-Consul was a grand actuality!

Jacques Dantin thus became a dramatic pe