"Oh, Anatole! my cherished one!" began the porter's wife. "Here are
the police. Tell us then, how this occurred."

"I will tell all I know," replied her husband, looking at the
police-officer. "This morning, when the clients had nearly all gone,
and I was sitting half asleep in the lodge, I heard--"

"Stop," said the police-officer, "not another word. Keep all you have
to say for the commissary. He is already on the stairs."

The next minute M. Bontoux entered, accompanied by his clerk and the
official doctor of the quarter.

"A crime," said the commissary, slowly, and with as much dignity as
was possible in a middle-aged gentleman pulled from his bed at
daybreak, and compelled to dress in a hurry. "A crime," he repeated.
"Of that there can be no doubt. But let us establish the fact
formally. Where are the witnesses?"

The porter, having relinquished the care of the wounded man to the
doctor, stood up slowly and saluted the commissary.

"Very well; tell us what you know. Sit down"--this to the clerk.
"Produce your writing-materials and prepare the report."

"It must have been about four this morning, but I was very drowsy, and
the gentlemen had nearly all gone," said the night porter, speaking
fluently, "when I was disturbed by the noise of a quarrel, a fight, up
here in the principal drawing-room. While I was still rubbing my eyes,