"A man will shoot himself in the mouth, in the temple, in the heart,
anywhere, but not in the eye. There would be an unconquerable shrinking
from that. So I say it's murder."

The judge shook his head. "And the murderer?"

"Ah, that's another question. We must find the woman. And we must
understand the rôle of this American."

"No woman ever fired that shot or planned this crime," declared the
commissary, unconsciously echoing Coquenil's opinion.

"There's better reason to argue that the American never did it," retorted
the judge.

"What reason?"

"The woman ran away, didn't she? And the American didn't. If he had killed
this man, do you think _anything_ would have brought him back here for that
cloak and bag?"

"A good point," nodded the chief. "We can't be sure of the murderer--yet,
but we can be reasonably sure it's murder."

Still the judge was unconvinced. "If it's murder, how do you account for
the singed eyebrows? How did the murderer get so near?"

"I answer as you did: 'Ask the woman.' She knows."