"Always, always, always, for it has not left me for a moment," said Dr. Tolliers. "And that you may be convinced, listen to me!
"There is a poison that leaves hardly a trace; I know it well. I recognised its symptoms with Barahier as earlier with Mme. d'Imrahil. This poison can be recognised by the blue traces it leaves in any pipe-weed that be dowsed therein." The doctor took a pinch of Dénéthoirtier's tobacco and dipped it in the lemonade. One saw at once a blue tint like velour de smurreau envelop the weed in its sinister coil.
"The unfortunate Barahier has been poisoned by sunni-délit," said the doctor. "I aver it before Érou and man."
Villefaramir said nothing, but raised his arms to heaven and fell thunderstruck into the sole chair not yet bescratched by Thibaut.
"Oh! Death reigns in my house!" he cried.
"Say rather: crime," returned Dr. Tolliers.
"In my house!" repeated Villefaramir, throwing a sombre regard around the room, as if he suspected even Dénéthoirtier's snuffbox of concealing louche designs.
"Be a man," exhorted the physician. "Interpreter of the law, honor yourself by a complete immolation."
