--immediately after we heard her stifled cries
as she was being held by the fingers that have left their red mark
upon her throat. Rapid as the attack was, we were no less rapid in our
endeavors to get into the room where the tragedy was taking place."

I rose from my seat and once more examined the door with the greatest
care. Then I returned to my place with a despairing gesture.

"If the lower panel of the door," I said, "could be removed without the
whole door being necessarily opened, the problem would be solved. But,
unfortunately, that last hypothesis is untenable after an examination
of the door--it's of oak, solid and massive. You can see that quite
plainly, in spite of the injury done in the attempt to burst it open."

"Ah!" cried Daddy Jacques, "it is an old and solid door that was brought
from the chateau--they don't make such doors now. We had to use this bar
of iron to get it open, all four of us--for the concierge, brave woman
she is, helped us. It pains me to find them both in prison now."

Daddy Jacques had no sooner uttered these words of pity and protestation
than tears and lamentations broke out from the concierges. I never saw
two accused people crying more bitterly. I was extremely disgusted. Even
if they were innocent, I could not understand how they could behave like
that in the face of misfortune. A dignified bearing at such times is
better than tears and groans, which, most often, are feigned.

"Now then, enough of that sniveling," cried Monsieur de Marquet; "and,
in your interest, tell us what you were doing under the windows of the
pavilion at the time your mistress was being attacked; for you were
close to the pavilion when Daddy Jacques met you."

"We were coming to help!" they whined.

"If we could only lay hands on the murderer, he'd never taste bread
again!" the woman gurgled between her sobs.

As before we were unable to get two connecting thoughts out of them.
They persisted in their denials and swore, by heaven and all the saints,
that they were in bed when they heard the sound of the revolver shot.

"It was not one, but two shots that were fired!--You see, you are lying.
If you had heard one, you would have heard the other."

"Mon Dieu! Monsieur--it was the second shot we heard. We were asleep
when the first shot was fired."

"Two shots were fired," said Daddy Jacques. "I am certain that all the
cartridges were in my revolver. We found afterward that two had been
exploded,