A Capillary Crime, and Other Stories

John Stuart Mill · en
“3. Que dans les conditions ordinaires, c’est à dire, avec les
     variations hygrométriques de l’air seulement, le coefficient de
     dilatation atteint au plus 0.018, d’où résulte qu’une planche de
     0.20 deviendrait 0.2036.

     “4. Qu’en plongeant dans l’eau pendant longtemps une planche
     primitivement très sèche, le coefficient de dilatation peut
     atteindre 0.0375, ce que donnerait pour la planche de 0.20, 0.2075.

     “Peut-être vous trouverez d’autres renseignements dans le traité de
     charpente du Colonel Emy, ou dans celui de menuiserie de Roubo.

     “Recevez, Monsieur, l’assurance de mes sentiments distingués.

                                                             P. BRUNIN.


A few days later there was gathered in a small room in the prefecture
quite a knot of advocates and police officers. They were soon joined by
Benner himself, accompanied by a short, stout gentleman with
eye-glasses. Besides the ordinary furniture of the room, there was a
wash-tub, a pail of water, a manikin, and the drawing-board with the
mechanism on it. The entrance of the judge put a stop to the buzz of
conversation, and when he took a seat on the low platform the rest of
the company placed themselves on the benches in front. The judge, after
a few preliminary remarks on the subject of the mystery of Montmartre,
said that there had lately been developed such a new and surprising
theory to account for the death of the artist that he had consented to
give a hearing to the explanation of the theory. Benner then arose and
made the following statement: “In the Café du Rat Mort, a few days ago,
I noticed a peculiar movement in a broken match as it lay on the table
before me. At first my curiosity was excited only to a moderate degree,
but shortly this inexplicable motion interested me so that I
experimented until I found the cause of it. At the same moment there
flashed into my mind what I had learned long ago at school about
capillary force, and the solution of the mystery of my friend’s death
was at once plain to me. Hurrying to my studio, I cut off the hand of my
manikin, and carried it to the Academy of Fine Arts to show it to
Professor Brunin, of the Architectural Department, and ask his
assistance. Finding him neither there nor at his house, I wrote him a
note and left it for him. All that night I worked constructing a
working model of a manikin’s finger, and the next morning I received a
letter from Professor Brunin which gave me the data I was in search
of--the facts in regard to the expansion of wood when moistened. I
should read that letter here, but Professor Brunin is present, and will
explain the phenomenon. My theory is very simple. My friend Charles
Mandel was shot by his own manikin. There are witnesses enough to prove
that the pistol had been loaded for a long time, and that Mandel had
often tried in vain to draw the charge. It is also well known that the