"Has anything been disturbed here? Has anyone touched this body?" demanded
Pougeot sharply.

"No," said the doctor; "Gibelin came in with me, but neither of us touched
anything. We waited for you."

"I see. Ready, Leroy," and he proceeded to dictate what there was to say,
dwelling on two facts: that there was no sign of a weapon in the room and
that the long double window opening on the Rue Marboeuf was standing open.

"Now, doctor," he concluded, "we will look at the body."

Dr. Joubert's examination established at once the direct cause of death.
The man, a well-built young fellow of perhaps twenty-eight, had been shot
in the right eye, a ball having penetrated the brain, killing him
instantly. The face showed marks of flame and powder, proving that the
weapon--undoubtedly a pistol--had been discharged from a very short
distance.

This certainly looked like suicide, although the absence of the pistol
pointed to murder. The man's face was perfectly calm, with no suggestion of
fright or anger; his hands and body lay in a natural position and his
clothes were in no way disordered. Either he had met death willingly, or it
had come to him without warning, like a lightning stroke.

"Doctor," asked the commissary, glancing at the open window, "if this man
shot himself, could he, in your opinion, with his last strength have thrown
the pistol out there?"

"Certainly not," answered Joubert. "A man who received a wound like this
would be dead before he could lift a hand, before he could wink."

"Ah!"

"Besides, a search has been made underneath that window and no pistol has
been found."

"It must be murder," muttered Pougeot. "Was there any quarreling with the
woman?"

"Joseph says not. On the contrary, they seemed on the friendliest terms."

"Hah! See what he has on his person. Note everything down. We must find out
who this poor fellow was."

[Illustration: "On the floor lay a man."]

These instructions were carefully carried out, and it straightway became
clear that robbery, at any rate, had no part in the crime. In the dead
man's pockets was found a considerable sum of money, a bundle of five-pound
notes of the Bank of England, besides a handful of French gold. On his
fingers were several valuable rings, in his scarf was a large ruby set
with diamonds, and attached to his waistcoat was a massive gold medal that
at once established his identity. He was Enrico Martinez, a Spaniard widely
known as a professiona