e
actuality of the moment. I live in that quarter. It was quite near there
that it happened, the affair"----

"I know!" interrupted the other.

The unknown had not pronounced ten words in questioning and replying,
and yet Bernardet found two clues simply insignificant--terrible in
reality. "I know!" was the man's reply, in a short tone, as if he wished
to push aside, to thrust away, a troublesome thought. The tone, the
sound of the words, had struck Bernardet. But one word especially--the
word Monsieur before Rovere's name. "Monsieur Rovere? Why did he speak
to me of Monsieur Rovere?" Bernardet thought.

It seemed, then, that he knew the dead man.

All the people gathered in this little hall, if asked in regard to this
murder would have said: "Rovere!" "The Rovere affair!" "The Rovere
murder!" Not one who had not known the victim would have said:

"Monsieur Rovere!"

The man knew him then. This simple word, in the officer's opinion, meant
much.

The manager now announced that, having become a skeleton, the dear
brother who had lent himself to this experiment would return to his
natural state, "fresher and rosier than before." He added, pleasantly,
"A thing which does not generally happen to ordinary skeletons!"

This vulgar drollery caused a great laugh, which the audience heartily
indulged in. It made an outlet for their pent-up feelings, and they all
felt as if they had awakened from a nightmare. The man in the sombrero,
whose pale face was paler than before, was the only one who did not
smile. He even frowned fiercely (noted by Bernardet) when the manager
added:

"You are not in the habit of seeing a dead man resuscitated the next
day. Between us, it would keep the world pretty full."

"Evidently," thought Bernardet, "my young gentleman is ill at ease."

His only thought was to find out his name, his personality, to establish
his identity and to learn where he had spent his life, and especially
his last days. But how?

He did not hesitate long. He left the place, even before the man in the
coffin had reappeared, smiling at the audience. He glided through the
crowd, repeating, "Pardon!" "I beg pardon!" traversed rapidly the hall
where newcomers were conversing over their beverages, and stepped out
into the street, looked up and down. A light fog enveloped everything,
and the gaslights and lights in the shop windows showed ghostly through
it. The passers-by, the cabs, the tramways, bore a spectral look.