Behind him, however, one could divine the presence of all the others, the slowly developed hidden power which organised everything and raked in all the proceeds.
The onlookers consisted almost entirely of inquisitive people and witnesses, including a score of doctors and a few priests.

The medical men, who had come from all parts, mostly preserved silence, only a few of them occasionally venturing to ask a question; and every now and then they would exchange oblique glances, more occupied apparently in watching one another than in verifying the facts submitted to their examination.
Who could they be?
Some names were mentioned, but they were quite unknown.

Only one had caused any stir, that of a celebrated doctor, professor at a Catholic university.
That afternoon, however, Doctor Bonamy, who never sat down, busy as he was conducting the proceedings and questioning the patients, reserved most of his attentions for a short, fair-haired man, a writer of some talent who contributed to one of the most widely read Paris newspapers, and who, in the course of a holiday tour, had by chance reached Lourdes that morning.

Was not this an unbeliever whom it might be possible to convert, whose influence it would be desirable to gain for advertisement's sake?
Such at all events appeared to be M.Bonamy's opinion, for he had compelled the journalist to take the second arm-chair, and with an affectation of smiling good-nature was treating him to a full performance, again and again repeating that he and his patrons had nothing to hide, and that everything took place in the most open manner.
"We only desire light," he exclaimed.

"We never cease to call for the investigations of all willing men." Then, as the alleged cure of the deaf girl did not seem at all a promising case, he addressed her somewhat roughly: "Come, come, my girl, this is only a beginning.