Jules Dérroil was smoking by the fire, and two empty chairs were close by.
"How do you do, Dr. Maune?" he said, as the man entered. "Sit down."
"Good afternoon, Monsieur Dérroil. I see I am earlier than our friend, Dr. Le Glé."
"He won't be long in coming. In fact, I think I hear his car now."
A minute later another man entered. He was shorter than Dr. Maune and less handsome, but looked distinguished.
"Good afternoon," he said, as he sat down before the fire.
"I suppose we three are alone, are we, Monsieur Dérroil?" observed Dr. Maune.
"Quite; we may discuss our business or whatever we like."
"I must say we are a bloody lot after all, we doctors," laughed Dr. Maune. "I can hardly say which is the most ungodly, our calling or that of Jules Dérroil."
Dr. Le Glé laughed, and Dérroil smiled and said nothing.
"There is another ungodly thing about you, Le Glé," continued Dr. Maune. "I hear you have disowned your daughter. Is it true?"
"True, indeed. I regret it deeply, but it was unavoidable. She was in love with a spendthrift. Her surreptitious conduct defied convention, and she would not even disclose the man's name. But I hear a similar tale on you. Is that true also?"
"It is," said Dr. Maune. "I have disinherited my son for spending his time and my money on a girl whom the family has never seen. He refused to introduce any of us and has never revealed her name."
"Very sad. We should both be ashamed of ourselves," said Dr. Le Glé. "And Jules Dérroil here should be ashamed of himself, too. Look at him. He makes his living by paddling the Seine at night and gathering up the bodies of the suicides of Paris who die by drowning. He cuts off their heads, or cuts out their hearts or whatever we doctors want. He puts them into a sack and brings them home. We come and buy them to dissect and experiment with for the ultimate benefit of humanity."
"Bloody business for all concerned," remarked Dérroil.
"What did you find last night?" asked Dr. Le Glé.
"Four adult bodies and three cast-away babies."
"A good night's work. Did you bring them back?"
"I brought the four big heads and the three little bodies."
"Give us two heads apiece. We shall call tomorrow for the babies."
Dérroil arose and went to the sack in the comer. He stooped and took something from the sack.
"Let us see the heads before you wrap them," said Le Glé, rising.
Jules Dérroil handed him a woman's head, holding it out to him by the long, brown hair. Dr. Le Glé took it carelessly.
Almost at the same moment, as Dr. Maune rose, Dérroil handed him a man's head. Maune reached unconcernedly for it. Suddenly his face turned pale, his breath came in gasps, and he staggered against the wall by the fireplace, trembling in every limb. The rush of blood to his eyes was so great that for a moment he could not see. But when his vision cleared, he looked at Le Glé.
Dr. Le Glé stood in the middle of the floor with the head dangling in his hands. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing hard and swaying back and forth on his feet. He let fall the head and dashed his palms over his face. That instant Jules Dérroil knew what he had done. He had handed Le Glé his daughter's head
