"Now," said he, "the affair is ended, _classé_. My children (he was relating his adventures to his little girls), we must pass to another. And why"-- "Why, what?" asked Mme. Bernardet. "Eh! there it is! Why--it lacks the elucidation of a problem. I will see! I will know!" He still remembered the young Danish doctor, whom he had seen with M. Morin at the autopsy. With his knowledge of men, with the sharp, keen eye of the police officer, Bernardet had recognized a man of superior mind; a mind dreamy and mysterious. He knew where Dr. Erwin lived during his sojourn in Paris, and he went to his apartment one beautiful morning and rang the bell at the door of a hotel in the Boulevard Saint Martin, where students and strangers lodge. He might have asked advice of M. Morin, of the master of French Science, but he, the Inspector of Sureté, approach these high personages, to question them. He dared not as long as there was a Danish doctor. Bernardet's brain whirled. He felt almost certain that Dr. Erwin would give the same explanation which he, himself, suspected, in regard to the observed phenomenon. "The dead man's eye has spoken and can speak," said Bernardet to himself. "Yes, surely. I am not deceived." Dr. Erwin met Bernardet cordially and listened to him with profound attention. The police officer repeated word for word the confession drawn from Pradès. Then he asked the Danish physician if he really believed that Jacques Dantin's image had been transfixed on the retina of the dying man's eye, during the time when he had held and gazed at the portrait. "For the proofs which I obtained were very confused," said the officer, "it is possible, and I say it is quite easy to recognize Jacques Dantin's features. We have seen it, and, according to your opinion even the painting was able to be--how shall I express myself--stored up, retained in the retina." "You found the proof there," said Dr. Erwin. "So, according to your opinion, I have not deceived myself?" "No!" "I have truly found in the retina of the dead man's eye the last vision he saw when living?" "Yes!" "But the vision of a painting. A painting, Doctor." "Why not!" Dr. Erwin responded in a sharp tone. "Do you know what happened? Knowing that he was dying the unhappy man went, urged by a tragic impulse, to that portrait which represented to him all that was left, concentrating in one image alone, all his life." "Then it is possible? It is possible?" Bernardet repeated.