‘Obviously, that’s a fairly interesting theory,’ said Bernès, ‘but we need proof.’
‘You’re forgetting another problem,’ said Richard.
‘I’m getting there. It’s the autopsy. Because, if the victim didn’t die from a bullet to the heart, if he was poisoned, why did the external observations show the opposite?’
‘Yes, why?’ growled Richard. ‘I’m waiting to hear, Bob. You yourself saw Gregor’s body on the slab. You held in your hands the heart, struck by a bullet, which had literally exploded. You made fun of me because I sent the viscera to the toxicology lab.’
‘Right. But the logic remains. The crime was impossible during a particular period and in a particular place. Therefore we have to explain the autopsy, which remains the only mysterious point. Let’s rule out straight away the question of poisoning. Are you sure, Richard, that no one could have got near the potion you prepared?’
‘Absolutely. I was alone in the fort’s pharmacy. I brought the glass, which I had washed and wiped beforehand. I put the glass in the Russian’s hand myself and he emptied it right away. There was nobody nearby.’
‘Perfect. Second point: when you extracted the bullet, whilst we were in the cell, are you sure it was in the heart itself and not just in close proximity?’
‘Who do you take me for?’
‘I’m just trying to establish the facts. The firmer the ground, the firmer the conviction. So, along the same lines, are you sure there couldn’t have been a substitution of the corpses? Identical twins, for example.’
‘Pure pulp fiction. You’ve seen the corpse yourself. There couldn’t have been a mistake.’
‘Good. Now we’ve eliminated all the possibilities of error. There is therefore only one solution, the one that I arrived at, and which you can’t help seeing, now.’
‘Speaking personally, I’m completely in the dark,’ said Bernès.
Everyone chimed in, except Richard, who seemed deep in thought. I realised he was beginning to form an idea. He raised his head suddenly and looked Bob straight in the eye.
‘So you see,’ continued my friend, ‘if the medical examiner’s observations are correct, then my reasoning collapses. On the other hand, if my hypothesis is right, the autopsy report—.’
That’s when all hell broke loose. Everything happened so fast that it was only later that I was able to reconstruct it. At the time, it was all noise and confusion. This is what I think happened: as my friend pronounced that last sentence, fairly slowly, I had the impression he was waiting for something. We were all hanging on his words and Jannin himself, behind us, had stopped his irritating walk. Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed that Richard, to my left, made a sudden movement. At the same time, Bob, who I learnt later had tilted his chair backwards, flattened himself under the table. A shadow moved on my left, masking the professor. There was a detonation, followed by the sound of glass shattering. There was a brief struggle to my left and, almost immediately, Jannin stood up with a smile, a revolver in his hand. I turned to look at Richard. His wrists were being held behind the back of his chair by handcuffs.
Bob got up, slightly pale, but still composed:
‘Thank you, Paul,’ he said. ‘That’s the second time.’ Then, finishing his sentence, he continued: ‘... the autopsy report has been falsified.’
The rest of his sentence was lost in the hubbub. Recovering from their stupefaction, those present stood up, shouted at each other, and asked questions. The usher opened the door just enough to put his head inside and looked alarmed. Behind him, the inquisitive faces of the journalists made a conglomeration worthy of a Dubout cartoon.
‘It’s nothing,’ said Bob, ‘the professor gave us a short demonstration. Not a very successful one, I have to say.’
The usher, reassured, closed the door. The incident had given Bernès the time to recover. He addressed my friend.
‘Can you explain what this all means?’
‘Surely it’s very simple. What impeded us all was the psychological element. Nobody would dream of suspecting Professor Richard. Everything he said, given his high scientific standing and his universally recognised integrity, was above discussion. If I hadn’t had the deplorable propensity to mock those in high places and never take anyone at what the English call their “face value”, I wouldn’t have got any farther than the others. I admit, in fact, that his reputation did slow me down for quite a while and, even when logic and intuition led me irresistibly to the only possible solution, I hesitated and, after sober reflection, decided to keep quiet. I had no proof,and if I had said something, nobody would have believed me. I spent too long trying to understand. I hadn’t any proof, as I said, yet it would have been enough to have another doctor with Richard at the autopsy.’
‘Nevertheless, you did see him extract the bullet from the Russian’s chest.’
‘You said it: the chest—not the heart. It must have been very close, because I would have noticed if it had been too far apart. And, when I arrived at the operating theatre, Richard had already had at least
