These instructions were carefully carried out, and it straightway became
clear that robbery, at any rate, had no part in the crime. In the dead
man's pockets was found a considerable sum of money, a bundle of five-pound
notes of the Bank of England, besides a handful of French gold. On his
fingers were several valuable rings, in his scarf was a large ruby set
with diamonds, and attached to his waistcoat was a massive gold medal that
at once established his identity. He was Enrico Martinez, a Spaniard widely
known as a professional billiard player, and also the hero of the terrible
Charity Bazaar fire, where, at the risk of his life, he had saved several
women from the flames. For this bravery the city of Paris had awarded him a
gold medal and people had praised him until his head was half turned.

So familiar a figure was Martinez that there was no difficulty in finding
witnesses in the restaurant able to identify him positively as the dead
man. Several had seen him within a few days at the Olympia billiard
academy, where he had been practicing for a much-advertised match with an
American rival. All agreed that Martinez was quite the last man in Paris to
take his own life, for the simple reason that he enjoyed it altogether too
much. He was scarcely thirty and in excellent health, he made plenty of
money, he was fond of pleasure, and particularly fond of the ladies and had
no reason to complain of bad treatment at their hands; in fact, if the
truth must be told, he was ridiculously vain of his conquests among the
fair sex, and was always saying to whoever would listen: "Ah, _mon cher_, I
have met a woman! But _such_ a woman!" Then his dark eyes would glow and he
would snap his thumb nail under an upper tooth, with an expression of
ravishing joy that only a Castilian billiard player could assume. And, of
course, it was always a different woman!

"Aha!" muttered the commissary. "There may be a husband mixed up in this.
Call that waiter again, and--er--we will continue the examination