Madame de Vibray, horribly pale, her eyes closed, her lips violet-hued, lay stretched on the floor: her body had assumed the rigidity of a corpse. That of Jacques Dollon, huddled in an arm-chair, was in a state of immobility.

Monsieur Agram at once noticed long, intersecting streaks on the floor, such as might have been traced by heavy furniture dragged over the waxed boards of the flooring. A pungent medicinal odour caught the throats of the visitors: Madame Béju was about to open a window: the superintendent stopped her:

‘Let things remain as they are for the present,’ was his order. After casting an observant eye round the room he questioned the housekeeper:

‘Is this state of disorder usual?

‘Never in this world, sir!’ declared the good woman.

‘Monsieur Dollon and his sister are very steady, very regular in their habits, especially the young lady. It is true that she has been absent for nearly a month, but her brother has often been left alone, and he has always insisted on his studio being kept in good order.’

‘Did Monsieur Dollon have many visitors?’

‘Very seldom, monsieur. Sometimes his neighbours would come in; and then there was that poor lady now lying there so deathly pale that it makes me ill to look at her...’

Jacques Dollon lives

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor employed in connection with relief for the poor. The superintendent of police pointed out to this Dr. Mayran the two inanimate figures. A glance of the doctor’s trained eye sufficed to show him that Madame de Vibray had been dead for some time. Approaching Jacques Dollon, Dr. Mayran examined him attentively:

‘Will you help me to lift him on to a bed or a table?’

he asked. ‘It seems to me that this one is not dead.’

‘His bedroom is next to this?’ cried Madame Béju.

‘Oh, heavens above! If only the poor young man would recover.’Silently the doctor, aided by the superintendent and a policeman, transported young Dollon into the next room.

‘Air!‘ cried the doctor, ‘give him air! Open all the windows! It seems to me a case of suspended animation!

There is partial suffocation. This will probably respond to energetic treatment.’

Whilst good Madame Béju, whose legs were shaking under her, was carrying out the doctor’s orders, the superintendent of police kept watch to see that nothing was touched. The doctor’s attention was concentrated on Jacques Dollon. Monsieur Agram was searching for some indication which might throw light on the drama. So far he had been unable to formulate any hypothesis. Should the moribund painter return to consciousness, the explanation he could give would certainly clear up the situation. At this point in the superintendent’s deliberations, the doctor called out:

‘He lives! He lives! Bring me a glass of water!’

Jacques Dollon was returning to consciousness!