“That is a medical fact?”
“Yes, certainly, it is a medical fact.”
“And is it not also a medical fact, doctor, that this condition has been known to have been caused by a blow—I will not say so slight, for that would be misleading—but by a blow that did not even cause a wound, and I mean by wound a gash, a cut, or the tearing of the flesh?”
“Yes; that, too, is so.”
Lemoyne paused. He looked at Henri Mentone, and suddenly it seemed as though a world of sympathy and pity were in his face. He turned and looked at the jury—at each one of the twelve men, but almost as though he did not see them. There was a mist in his eyes. It was silent again in the courtroom. His voice was low and grave as he spoke again.
“Doctor Arnaud, are you prepared to state professionally under oath that it is impossible that the blow received by the prisoner at the bar should have caused him to lose his memory?”
“No.” Doctor Arnaud shook his head. “No; I would not say that.”
Lemoyne's voice was still grave.
“You admit then, Doctor Arnaud, that it is possible?”
Doctor Arnaud hesitated. “Yes,” he said. “It is possible, of course.”