That distinguished expert, while the others were speaking, had been listening intently; ostensibly, the while, he examined the picture with a show of trained skill that, it seemed, could not fail to detect unerringly those more subtle values and defects that are popularly supposed to be hidden from the common eye.

Silently, in breathless awe, they watched the process by which professional criticism finds its verdict.

That is, they _thought_ they were watching the process.

In reality, the method is more subtle than they knew.
While the great critic moved back and forth in front of the easel; drew away from or bent over to closely scrutinize the canvas; shifted the easel a hair breadth several times; sat down; stood erect; hummed and muttered to himself abstractedly; cleared his throat with an impressive "Ahem"; squinted through nearly closed eyes, with his head thrown back, or turned in every side angle his fat neck would permit: peered through his half-closed fist; peeped through funnels of paper; sighted over and under his open hand or a paper held to shut out portions of the painting;--the others _thought_ they saw him expertly weighing the evidence for and against the merit of the work.

In _reality_ it was his _ears_ and not his _eyes_ that helped the critic to his final decision--a decision which was delivered, at last, with a convincing air of ponderous finality.