"A finger can be cut off."
The notary became vehement:
"Oh, no! A thousand times, no! Whatever be the attraction of the benefit to be derived, one does not mutilate oneself. No, no: your contention falls to the ground. What? You represent this fellow as ready to cut off his finger! This fellow with his dull face, his air of stupidity! But he is incapable of it! He's weak and a coward...."
The argument struck Dorothy. It threw light on the most obscure part of the business; and she drew from it exactly the conclusions it warranted.
"You're right," she said. "A man like him is incapable of mutilating himself."
"In that case?"
"In that case, some one else has charged himself with this sinister task."
"Some one else has cut off the finger? An accomplice?"
"More than an accomplice, his chief? The brain which has devised these combinations is not his. He is not the man who has staged the adventure. He is only an instrument, some common rogue chosen for his fleshless aspect. The man who holds the threads remains invisible; and he is formidable."
The notary shivered.