in one of the west wing
private rooms that the crime had been committed, and as the commissary
reached the wing the waiters' awe-struck looks showed him plainly enough
_which_ was the room--there, on the right, the second from the end, where
the patient policeman was standing guard.

M. Pougeot paused at the turn of the corridor to ask some question, but he
was interrupted by a burst of singing on the left, a roaring chorus of
hilarity.

"It's a banquet party," explained the doctor, "a lot of Americans. They
don't know what has happened."

"Hah!" reflected the other. "Just across the corridor, too!"

Then, briefly, the commissary heard what the witnesses had to tell him
about the crime. It had been discovered half an hour before, more precisely
at ten minutes to nine, by a waiter Joseph, who was serving a couple in
Number Six, a dark-complexioned man and a strikingly handsome woman. They
had arrived at a quarter before eight and the meal had begun at once. Oddly
enough, after the soup, the gentleman told the waiter not to bring the next
course until he rang, at the same time slipping into his hand a ten-franc
piece. Whereupon Joseph had nodded his understanding--he had seen impatient
lovers before, although they usually restrained their ardor until after the
fish; still, _ma foi_, this was a woman to make a man lose his head, and
the night was to be a jolly one--how those young American devils were
singing!... so _vive l'amour_ and _vive la jeunesse!_ With which simple
philosophy and a twinkle of satisfaction Joseph had tucked away his gold
piece--and waited.

Ten minutes! Fifteen minutes! An unconscionably _long time when you have a
delicious sole a la Regence_ getting cold on your hands. Joseph knocked
discreetly, then again after a decent pause, and finally, weary of waiting,
he opened the door with an official cough of warning and stepped inside the
room. A moment later he started back, his eyes fixed with horror.

"_Grand Dieu!_" he cried.

"You saw the body, the man's body?" questioned the commissary.

"Yes, sir," answered the waiter, his face still pale at the memory.

"And the woman? Where was the woman?"

"Ah, I forgot," stammered Joseph. "She had come out of the room before
this, while I was waiting. She asked where the telephone was, and I told
her it was on the floor below. Then she went downstairs--at least I
suppose she did, for she never came back."

"Did anyone see her leave the hotel?", dem