"That is quite comprehensible," replied Roux, "the expected only comprises one event, whereas the unexpected may be any one of a million things. Hence the chances of the unexpected are a million to one compared with the expected." "That is a queer kind of logic," replied Paul, laughing, "I wonder in what school of philosophy you were taught." "The philosophy of the unknown--it is the best of all philosophies because no one can dispute it. But to be serious, my dear colleague, I want your advice as I am rather in a difficulty. Yesterday I received an order to conduct a post-mortem examination on the body of Professor Delapine who happened to have been the guest of Dr. Villebois in Passy." "Whom did you say?" asked Paul becoming interested. "Professor Delapine." "What! Professor Delapine of the Sorbonne. I had no idea that he was dead. What did he die of?" "I don't know that he is dead. That is just my difficulty." "Do you mean to tell me that you were ordered by the Parquet to make a post-mortem examination, and you don't know whether he is dead or not? My dear fellow, if I did not know you for a serious man I would think that you were joking." "I don't wonder at what you say, but pray listen to me patiently for a moment. It seems that the professor is a medium or spiritualist, or whatever you choose to call it, and the day before yesterday he was lying down in a sleep or trance in a sort of flimsy cabinet, when a cry of fire was raised, and the audience rushed out of the room upstairs to see where the fire had started. While they were gone a medical man--Dr. Riche, I think the name was--remembering that the professor was in a deep sleep or trance, ran down to look after him with a view of transferring him to a place of safety. As he was in the act of opening the door of the room where the professor was lying, it was shut with a bang by someone inside who immediately locked the door, and evidently got away, for when the door was forced, the intruder was nowhere to be seen. But the remarkable thing about it was that a medical hypodermic syringe was found lying on the floor half full of liquid, and on examining Delapine's body a puncture was discovered in his arm which was evidently made by the needle of the syringe. It appears that the head of the police was sent for, and he found Delapine lying on the couch apparently dead. Yesterday afternoon I arrived at the house in answer to a summons, and was about to conduct the autopsy--in fact I had the scalpel in my hand--when this Doctor Riche rushed into the room in a tremendous state of excitement, and tore the knife out of my hand so violently that it cut my fingers. 'Stop, in Heaven's name, stop,' he cried, 'do you want to commit murder?' I naturally became very indignant, and requested him to leave me to my work. Villebois backed up Dr. Riche, and suggested our talking things over in the smoking-room."