called Marthe Popenkoff, was found in a lonely part of
the road, between Orskaia and Orenburg, with the skin of her face and
body shockingly torn and lacerated, but without there being any wounds
deep enough to cause her death, which the doctor attributed to syncope.

The people of Orskaia, not satisfied with this verdict, declared Marthe
had been murdered, and made such a loud clamour that the editor of the
local paper at last voiced their sentiments in the _East Russia
Chronicle_. It was then that M. Durant, a smart young French engineer,
temporarily residing in those parts, became interested in the case, and
decided to investigate it thoroughly. With this end in view he wrote to
his friend M. Hersant--a keen student of the Occult--in Saratova, to
join him, and three days after the despatch of his letter met the latter
at the Orskaia railway station. M. Durant retailed the case as they
drove to his house.

"It is a remarkable affair, in every way," he said. "The woman was
leading a perfectly respectable married life; she was hard-working and
industrious, and beyond the fact that she was over-indulgent to her
children, does not seem to have had any serious faults. As far as I can
ascertain she had no enemies."

"Nor secret lovers?" M. Hersant asked.

"No; she was quite straight."

"And you feel sure she was murdered?"

"I do. Public opinion so strongly favours that view."

"Did you see the marks on the woman?"

"I did, and could make nothing of them. After supper I will take you to
see her, in the morgue."

"What--she is still unburied?"

"Yes--but there is nothing unusual about that. In these parts bodies
are often kept for ten days--sometimes even longer."

M. Durant was as good as his word; after they had partaken of a somewhat
hasty meal, they set out to the morgue, where they made a careful
inspection of the poor woman's remains.

M. Hersant examined the marks on the woman's body very closely with his
magnifying-glass.

"Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed, bending down and almost touching the corpse
with his nose, "Ah!"

"Have you made a discovery?" M. Durant enquired.

"I prefer not to say at present," M. Hersant replied. "I should like to
see the spot where this body was found--now."

"We will go there at once," M. Durant rejoined.

The scene of the tragedy was the Orenburg road, at the foot of two
little hills; and on either side were the sloping fields, yellow with
the nodding corn.

"That is