“Justice, I suppose.”
“Let me wait a bit, Nathan, and get that into my mind.”
Benjulia waited with exemplary patience.
“Now about yourself,” Lemuel continued. “You won’t be offended—will you? Should I be right, if I called you a dissector of living creatures?”
Benjulia was reminded of the day when he had discovered his brother in the laboratory. His dark complexion deepened in hue. His cold gray eyes seemed to promise a coming outbreak. Lemuel went on.
“Does the Law forbid you to make your experiments on a man?” he asked.
“Of course it does!”
“Why doesn’t the Law forbid you to make your experiments on a dog?”
Benjulia’s face cleared again. The one penetrable point in his ironclad nature had not been reached yet. That apparently childish question about the dog appeared, not only to have interested him, but to have taken him by surprise. His attention wandered away from his brother. His clear intellect put Lemuel’s objection in closer logical form, and asked if there was any answer to it, thus:
The Law which forbids you to dissect a living man, allows you to dissect a living dog. Why?