Part 60 (2/2)

”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?” asks Jasper Lamotte, eagerly, in spite of himself.

”That,” replies Mr. O'Meara, with elaborate _nonchalance_, ”will be made known at the trial. Mr. Lamotte, we trust that you will pardon this most necessary intrusion, and we wish you a very good morning.”

The examination has been a very brief affair; it is just ten o'clock when the four unwelcome guests drive away.

Doctor Benoit does not accompany them; he goes up-stairs to visit his patients.

Jasper Lamotte asks him no questions. He knows that Doctor Benoit is a man of honor and that he will keep his professional secrets. So he goes sulkily back to his library.

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