But Fandor would not allow himself to become disheartened – never that! Under the wing of his vanished friend he had learned to give himself up with single-minded devotion to any task he took up; his sole satisfaction being duty well fulfilled.... Well, the Dollon case should be cleared up! ... To do so was to render a service to humanity! Having come to this conclusion, he hastened to interview Monsieur Fuselier.“Monsieur Fuselier,” cried Fandor as he shook hands with the magistrate, “you must know quite well why I have come to see you!”

“About the rue Norvins affair?”

“Say rather about the Dépôt affair! It is there the affair became tragic.”

Monsieur Fuselier smiled.

“You know then?”

“That Jacques Dollon has hanged himself? Yes. That he was innocent? Again, yes!” confessed Fandor, smiling in his turn; “You know that at La Capitale we get all the information that’s out there, and are also the first to get it.”

“Evidently,” conceded the magistrate. “But if you know all about it, why put my professional discretion to the torture by asking absurd questions?”

“Now, what the devil are they up to on Clock Quay?

Don’t they supervise the accused in their cells?

“Certainly they do! When this Dollon arrived at the Dépôt he was immediately conducted to Monsieur Bertillon: there he was measured and tested, fingerprints taken, and so on.”

“Just so,” said Fandor. “I saw Bertillon before coming on to you. He told me Dollon seemed crushed: he submitted to all the tests without making the slightest objection; but he never spoke of suicide, never said anything which could lead one to imagine such a fatal termination.”

“Well, he wouldn’t shout it out from the rooftops!...

When he left Monsieur Bertillon, what then?”

“After!... Oh, the police took him to a cell, and left him there. At midnight the chief warder made his rounds and saw nothing abnormal. It was in the morning they found this unfortunate Dollon had hanged himself.”

“What did he hang himself with?”

“With strips of his shirt twisted into a rope.... Oh, my dear fellow, I see what you are thinking! You fancy that there has been a lack of common precaution – that the warders were lax – that they had let him retain his braces, his cravat or his shoe laces!... Well, it was not so – all precautions were taken.”

“And this suicide remains incomprehensible!”

“Well!... This wretched youth must have been ferociously energetic, because he had fastened these shirt ropes of his to the iron bars of his bed, and strangled himself by lying on his back. Death must have been long in coming to release him from his agony.”

“Can I not see him? “asked Fandor.

“Why not photograph him?” asked the magistrate in a bantering tone.

“ Oh, if it were only possible!...” Fandor stopped short. A youth knocked and entered:

“A lady, who wishes to see you, monsieur.”

“Tell her I am too busy.”