The passage was deserted. The hotel staff dared not venture into it. Some of the permanent visitors had locked themselves in their rooms; and the police had to knock for a long time and proclaim who they were before they could get the doors opened. Farther on, M. Lenormand saw another group of policemen searching the maid's pantry and, at the end of a long passage, he saw some more men who were approaching the turning, that is to say, that part of the passage which contained the rooms overlooking the Rue de Judée. And, suddenly, he heard these men shouting; and they disappeared at a run. He hurried after them. The policemen had stopped in the middle of the passage. At their feet, blocking their way, with its face on the carpet, lay a corpse. M. Lenormand bent down and took the lifeless head in his hands: "Chapman," he muttered. "He is dead." He examined the body. A white knitted silk muffler was tied round the neck. He undid it. Red stains appeared; and he saw that the muffler held a thick wad of cotton-wool in position against the nape of the neck. The wad was soaked with blood. Once again there was the same little wound, clean, frank and pitiless. M. Formerie and the commissary were at once told and came hastening up. "No one gone out?" asked the chief detective. "No surprise?" "No," said the commissary. "There are two men on guard at the foot of each staircase." "Perhaps he has gone up again?" said M. Formerie. "No! . . . No! . . ." "But some one must have met him. . . ." "No. . . . This all happened quite a long time ago. The hands are cold. . . . The murder must have been committed almost immediately after the other . . . as soon as the two men came here by the servants' staircase." "But the body would have been seen! Think, fifty people must have passed this spot during the last two hours. . . ." "The body was not here." "Then where was it?" "Why, how can I tell?" snapped the chief detective. "Do as I'm doing, look for yourself! You can't find things by talking." He furiously patted the knob of his stick with a twitching hand; and he stood there, with his eyes fixed on the body, silent and thoughtful. At last he spoke: "Monsieur le Commissaire, be so good as to have the victim taken to an empty room. Let them fetch the doctor. Mr. Manager, would you mind opening the doors of all the rooms on this passage for me?" On the left were three bedrooms and two sitting-rooms, forming an empty suite, which M. Lenormand inspected. On the right were four bedrooms. Two were occupied respectively by a M. Reverdat and an Italian, Baron Giacomini, who were both then out. In the third room they found an elderly English maiden lady still in bed; and, in the fourth, an Englishman who was placidly reading and smoking and who had not been in the least disturbed by the noises in the passage. His name was Major Parbury.