been assassinated in his office. Word has been
sent to the police bureau in the Rue du Hasard."

CHAPTER XIV. THE EXAMINATION

Saniel was there to observe, without having decided what he should do.
Instantly, with the decision that had "failed him so often during his
vigil," he resolved to go to Caffie's. Was he not a doctor, and the
physician of the dead-man? What could be more natural?

"A money-lender!" he exclaimed. "Is it Monsieur Caffie?"

"Exactly."

"But I am his doctor."

"A doctor! Here is a doctor!" cried several voices.

The crowd parted, and Saniel passed under the porte-cochere, where the
concierge, half fainting, was seated on a chair, surrounded by all the
maids of the house and several neighbors, to whom she related the news.

By using his elbows he was able to approach her.

"Who has said Monsieur Caffie is dead?" he asked with authority.

"No one has said he is dead; at least, I have not."

"Well, then?"

"There is a stain of blood that has run from his office down to the
landing; and as he is at home, since the light of his lamp is seen
in the court, and he never leaves it burning when he goes to dinner,
something must have happened. And why are his curtains drawn? He always
leaves them open."

At this moment two policemen appeared, preceded by a locksmith armed
with a bunch of keys, and a little man with a shrewd, sharp appearance,
wearing spectacles, and a hat from under which fell blond curls. The
commissioner of police probably.

"On which story?" he asked the concierge.

"On the first."

"Come with us."

He started to go upstairs, accompanied by the concierge, the locksmith,
and one of the policemen; Saniel wished to follow them, but the other
policeman barred the way.

"Pardon, Monsieur Commissioner," Saniel said.

"What do you wish, sir?"

"I am Monsieur Caffie's physician."

"Your name?"

"Doctor Saniel."

"Let the doctor pass," the commissioner said, "but alone. Make every one
go out, and shut the porte-cochere."

On reaching the landing the commissioner stopped to look at the brown
stain which, running under the door, spread over the tiling, as Caffie
never had had a mat.

"It is certainly a stain of blood," Saniel said, who stopped to examine
it and dipped his finger in it.

"Open the door," the commissioner said to the locksmith.

The latter examined the lock, looked among his keys, selected one, and
unlocked the door.

"Let no one enter," the