state of ferment: house
porters, neighbours, male and female, crowded round Madame Beju,
endeavouring to understand her disconnected account of the terrifying
spectacle she had come face to face with but a minute before.

Sudden death, suicide, crime--all were plausible suppositions. The more
audacious of these gossip-mongers had ventured as far as the studio
door; from that standpoint, a rapid glance round enabled them to get a
clear idea of the truth of the housekeeper's statements: they returned
to give a confirmation of them to the inquisitive and increasing crowd
in the principal avenue of the Close.

'The police! The police must be informed!' cried the Close portress.

Whilst this woman, with considerable presence of mind, and aided by
Madame Beju, exerted herself to keep out the people of the neighbourhood
who had got wind of the tragedy, two men had set off to seek the police.

_Lodge Number 6_

On the summit of Montmartre is the rue Norvins. In shape it resembles a
donkey's back, and at one particular spot it hugs the accentuated curve
of the Butte. The Close of the rue Norvins is situated at number 47. It
is separated from the street by a strong iron gate, the porter's lodge
being at the side. The Close consists of a series of little dwellings,
separated by wooden railings, up which climbing plants grow. Fine trees
encircle these abodes with so thick a curtain of leafage that the
inhabitants might think themselves buried in the depths of the country.

Lodge Number 6 is even more isolated than the others. It consists of a
ground floor and a first floor, with an immense studio attached. Three
years ago, Number 6 was leased to Monsieur Jacques Dollon, then a
student at the Fine Arts School. It has been continuously occupied by
the tenant and his sister, Miss Elizabeth Dollon, who has kept house for
her brother. For the last fortnight the painter has been alone: his
sister, who had gone to Switzerland to convalesce after a long illness,
was expected back that same day, or the day following.

The reputation of the two young people is considered by their neighbours
to be beyond criticism. The artist has led a regular and hard-working
life: last year the Salon accorded him a medal of the second class.

His sister, an affable and unassuming girl, seemed always much attached
to her brother. In that very Bohemian neighbourhood she is highly
thought of as a girl of the most estimable