"

"No," answered the doctor.

"No knife made it," Hanaud asserted.

"That is true," said the doctor. "Look!" and he took up from the floor
by his knee the weapon which had caused Marthe Gobin's death. It was
nothing but an ordinary skewer with a ring at one end and a sharp point
at the other, and a piece of common white firewood for a handle. The
wood had been split, the ring inserted and spliced in position with
strong twine. It was a rough enough weapon, but an effective one. The
proof of its effectiveness lay stretched upon the floor beside them.

Hanaud gave it to the manager of the hotel.

"You must be very careful of this, and give it as it is to the police."

Then he bent once more over Marthe Gobin.

"Did she suffer?" he asked in a low voice.

"No; death must have been instantaneous," said the doctor.

"I am glad of that," said Hanaud, as he rose again to his feet.

In the doorway the driver of the cab was standing.

"What has he to say?" Hanaud asked.

The man stepped forward instantly. He was an old, red-faced, stout man,
with a shiny white tall hat, like a thousand drivers of cabs.

"What have I to say, monsieur?" he grumbled in a husky voice. "I take
up the poor woman at the station and I drive her where she bids me, and
I find her dead, and my day is lost. Who will pay my fare, monsieur?"

"I will," said Hanaud. "There it is," and he handed the man a
five-franc piece. "Now, answer me! Do you tell me that this woman was
murdered in your cab and that you knew nothing about it?"

"But what should I know? I take her up at the station, and all the way
up the hill her head is every moment out of the window, crying,
'Faster, faster!' Oh, the good woman was in a hurry! But for me I take
no notice. The more she shouts, the less I hear; I bury my head between
my shoulders, and I look ahead of me and I take no notice. One cannot
expect cab-horses to run up these hills; it is not reasonable." "So you
went at a walk," said Hanaud. He beckoned to Ricardo, and said to the
manager: "M. Besnard will, no doubt, be here in a few minutes, and he
will send for the Juge d'Instruction. There is nothing that we can do."

He went back to Ricardo's sitting-room and flung himself into a chair.
He had been calm enough downstairs in the presence of the doctor and
the body of the victim. Now, with only Ricardo for a witness, he gave
way to distress.

"It is terrible," he said. "The poor woman! It was I who brought he