Magistrate in astonishment, his air was slightly
mocking and the lips and eyes assumed a quizzical expression. But
Bernardet was very much surprised when he heard one remark. Dr. Erwin
raised his head and while he seemed to approve of that which M. Ginory
had advanced, he said: "That image must have disappeared from the
retina some time ago."

"Who knows?" said M. Ginory.

Bernardet experienced a profound emotion. He felt that this time the
problem would be officially settled. M. Ginory had not feared ridicule
when he spoke, and a discussion arose there, in that dissecting room, in
the presence of the corpse. What had existed only in a dream, in
Bernardet's little study, became here, in the presence of the Examining
Magistrate, a member of the Institute, and the young students, almost
full fledged doctors, a question frankly discussed in all its bearings.
And it was he, standing back, he, a poor devil of a police officer, who
had urged this Examining Magistrate to question this savant.

"At the back of the eyes," said the Professor, touching the eyes with
his scalpel, "there is nothing, believe me. It is elsewhere that you
must look for your proof."

"But"--and M. Ginory repeated his "Who knows?"--"What if we try it this
time; will it inconvenience you, my dear Master?" M. Morin made a
movement with his lips which meant _peuh!_ and his whole countenance
expressed his scorn. "But, I see no inconvenience." At the end of a
moment he said in a sharp tone: "It will be lost time."

"A little more, a little less," replied M. Ginory, "the experiment is
worth the trouble to make it."

M. Ginory had proved without doubt that he, like Bernardet, wished to
satisfy his curiosity, and in looking at the open eyes of the corpse,
although in his duties he never allowed himself to be influenced by the
sentimental or the dramatic, yet it seemed to him that those eyes urged
him to insist, nay, even supplicated him.

"I know, I know," said M. Morin, "what you dream of in your magistrate's
brain is as amusing as a tale of Edgar Poe's. But to find in those eyes
the image of the murderer--come now, leave that to the inventive genius
of a Rudyard Kipling, but do not mix the impossible with our researches
in medical jurisprudence. Let us not make romance; let us make, you the
examinations and I the dissection."

The short tone in which the Professor had spoken did not exactly please
M. Ginory, who now, a little through self-conceit (sin