"Yes, sir."

"And where is their chamber?"

"There, sir."

As he spoke, the valet de chambre staggered back terrified, and
pointed to a door, the upper panel of which betrayed the imprint
of a bloody hand. Drops of perspiration overspread the poor
mayor's forehead. He too was terrified, and could hardly keep on
his feet. Alas, authority brings with it terrible obligations!
The brigadier, an old soldier of the Crimea, visibly moved,
hesitated.

M. Plantat alone, as tranquil as if he were in his garden, retained
his coolness, and looked around upon the others.

"We must decide," said he.

He entered the room; the rest followed.

There was nothing unusual in the apartment; it was a boudoir hung
in blue satin, furnished with a couch and four arm-chairs, covered
also with blue satin. One of the chairs was overturned.

They passed on to the bed-chamber.

A frightful disorder appeared in this room. There was not an
article of furniture, not an ornament, which did not betray that a
terrible, enraged and merciless struggle had taken place between