Loup threw the Goutran establishment into
a fever of excitement. The wrinkled old concierge who had declined
to admit the stranger was ready to fall upon her knees before the
director of the Secret Service. Madame Goutran hastened to explain why
she had not reported the affair to the police department as the law
required. She had not had time. It was so short a time ago that the
case had been brought into her house,--in a few minutes she would have
sent in the facts,--then, they expected every moment to ascertain the
name of the young woman, which would be necessary to make the report
complete.

Madame Goutran hoped that it would not involve her lodger, Monsieur
Jean Marot, who was an excellent young man, though impulsive. He
should have had the girl sent to the hospital. It was so absurd to
bring her there, where she might die, and in any case would involve
everybody in no end of difficulties, anyhow.

To a flood of such excuses and running observations Inspector Loup
listened with immobile face, tightly closed lips, and wandering fishy
eyes, standing in the corridor of the concierge lodge. He had not
uttered a word, nor had he hurried the good landlady in her
explanations and excuses. It was Inspector Loup's custom. He assumed
the attitude of a professional listener. Seldom any one had ever
resisted the subtle power of that silent interrogation. Even the most
stubborn and recalcitrant were compelled to yield after a time; and
those who had sullenly withstood the most searching and brutal
interrogatories had broken down under the calm, patient,
philosophical, crushing contemplation. Questions too often merely
serve to put people on their guard,--to furnish a cue to what should
be withheld.

"And your lodger, madame?" he inquired, after Madame Goutran had run
down, "can I see him?"

"Certainly, Monsieur l'Inspecteur. Pardon! I have detained you too
long."

"Not at all, madame. One does not think of time in the presence of a
charming conversationalist."

"Oh, thank you, monsieur! This way, Monsieur l'Inspecteur."

Inspector Loup gained the apartment of Jean Marot shortly after the
united efforts of Dr. Cardiac and his amateur assistants had succeeded
in producing decided signs of returning consciousness. The patient was
breathing irregularly.

The police official entered the chamber, and, after a silent
recognition of those present, looked long and steadily at the slight
figure on the bed.

He then retired,