The window fastening was intact: the window closed. “If the robbers,” reflected Fandor, “got into a closed room, they must have used false keys.”

Having examined the means of access to the room, Fandor started on a still more minute examination of the interior. He scrutinised the furniture and the slight powdering of dust on each article : in vain!

Then the washstand had its turn: nothing!... He scrutinised the soap.

“Ah! This is interesting!” he cried. The manservant had made himself scarce; and Fandor, unobserved, could wrap up the piece of soap in his handkerchief and hide it in the lowest drawer of the clothes-chest, under a pile of linen He was whistling now.

“That bit of soap is interesting – very!” he cried.

“Let the police come! I am not afraid of their blundering!...

Now to see how Elizabeth is getting on!”

When he reached her side, he found she had recovered full consciousness, and was preparing to answer the questions of a police superintendent, who, summoned by the bankers, had hastened to the scene of action. He was a stout, apoplectic man, very full of his own importance.

“Come now, mademoiselle, tell us just how things happened from beginning to end! We ask nothing better than to believe you, but do not conceal any detail – not the slightest.”

Poor Elizabeth Dollon, when she heard this speech, stared at the pompous police official, astonished. What had she to conceal? What had she to gain by lying?

What did he think, this fat policeman, who took it upon himself to issue orders, when he should rather have tried to comfort her! Nevertheless, she at once began telling him all that she knew with regard to the affair. She told him of her letter to Fandor: that her room had been visited the evening before: by whom she did not know... that she had not said a word about it to anyone, fearing vengeance would fall on her, frightened, not understanding what it all meant.

Then she came to what the police dignitary called “her suicide”. As she finished her recital with a reference to her rescue by Fandor, she looked at the young journalist. It was a look of great gratitude and a kind of ardent tenderness, with a touch of fear in it.

“Strange, very strange!” pronounced the superintendent of police, who had been taking notes with an air of great gravity. “So very strange, mademoiselle, that it is very difficult to credit your statements!... very difficult indeed!”Whilst he was speaking, Fandor was saying to himself Decidedly, it is that!... Just what I was thinking! It is quite clear, clear as the sun in the sky, evident, indisputable!

And he refused, very politely of course – for one has to respect the authorities – to accompany the superintendent, who, in his turn, went upstairs to Elizabeth’s room, in order to carry out the necessary legal verification...

CHAPTER FOURTEEN : SOMEONE TELEPHONED