not trickery, I assure you, but fact. There, now, perfect. Doctor,
you are the sceptic. Take a look at the stone."

The doctor picked it up casually and held it up before his eyes.
At first he frowned; then came a look of incredulity; his chin
dropped and he rose in his chair.

"My God," he exclaimed, "the man's living! It--he--"

But Hobart and I had crowded over. The doctor held the ring so we
could see it. Inside the stone was Dr. Holcomb!

It was a strenuous moment, and the most incredible. We all of us
knew the doctor. It was not a photograph, nor a likeness; but the
man himself. It was beyond all reason that he could be in the
jewel; indeed there was only the head visible; one could catch the
expression of life, the movements of the eyelids. Yet how could it
be? What was it? It was Hobart who spoke first.

"Chick," he asked, "what's the meaning? Were it not for my own
eyes I would call it impossible. It's absurd on the face. The
doctor! Yet I can see him--living. Where is he?"

Chick nodded.

"That's the whole question. Where is he? I know and yet I know
nothing. You are now looking into the Blind Spot. The doctor
sought the secret of life--and found it. He was trapped by his own
wisdom!"