k's room, where that young man has remained in solitude, ever
since his unusually early breakfast hour.

"Frank," he says, entering quietly and closing the door with great care.
"Frank, we have a delegation of doctors below stairs."

"A delegation of doctors?" Frank repeats, parrot-like.

"Precisely; they want to examine the body."

Frank comes slowly to his feet.

"To examine the body!" he repeats again. "In Heaven's name, _why_?"

"To ascertain, by examining the wounds on the body, if the knife found
with it, is the knife that killed."

A sickly hue overspreads Frank Lamotte's face, and he sits weakly down
in the chair, from which he has just risen, saying never a word.

"Frank," says Jasper Lamotte, eyeing his son sharply. "Do you see any
reason why this investigation should not take place; supposing that it
were yet in our power to hinder it?"

A silence that lasts many seconds, then:

"It is _not_ in our power to hinder it," says Frank, in a hollow voice;
"neither would it be policy. Let the play go on," and he turns his face
away with a weary gesture.

For a moment, Jasper Lamotte stands gazing at his son; a puzzled look on
his face; then he turns and goes out as softly as he came.

"Gentlemen," he says, re-entering the library, with the same subdued
manner, "you are at liberty to proceed with your examination, and, if I
may suggest, it is as well to lose no time. The funeral takes place at
two o'clock."

They arise simultaneously, and without more words, follow Jasper Lamotte
to the room of death.

At the door, Mr. Wedron halts.

"I will remain on the balcony," he says to Mr. O'Meara, but sufficiently
loud to be heard by all the rest, "I never could endure the sight of a
corpse." And he turns abruptly, and goes out through the open doorway;
taking up a position on the broad piazza, and turning his gaze toward
the river.

Jasper Lamotte is less sensitive, however; he enters with the others,
and stands beside O'Meara, while the physicians do their work.

"At least," he thinks, "I'll know what they are about, and what their
verdict is."

But in this he is disappointed. They have brought with them a surgeon's
knife; the precise counterpart of the one now in possession of the
prosecution, and of the same manufacture.

One by one they examine, they compare, they probe, and all in silence.
Then they turn toward O'Meara.

"I believe we have finished," says Professor Harrington.

"And the result