"You must not enter Mademoiselle Dollon's room on any account!" said Fandor sternly. "It is quite enough that I should run the risk of effacing the, probably very slight, clues which the delinquents have left behind them...." "But, monsieur, if the young lady put the tubing between her lips, it must have been because she wished to destroy herself!" "On the face of it you are right, my good fellow. But, when one is right, one is often wrong!" Without more ado, Fandor started on a minute inspection of the room. Elizabeth had but stated the truth when she wrote that it had been thoroughly ransacked. Only her toilet things had been spared; but some books had been taken from their shelves and thrown about the floor, their pages crumpled and spoilt. He noticed the emptied trunk: its contents--copy books, letters, pieces of music--had been roughly dealt with. On the mantelpiece, in full view, lay Elizabeth's jewellery--some rings and brooches, a small gold watch, a purse. "A very queer affair," murmured Fandor, who was kneeling in the middle of the room, rummaging, searching, and not finding any clue. He rose, carefully examined all the woodwork, but found nothing incriminating. He examined the lock of the unhinged door, which had subsided on the floor. The lock was intact, the bolt moved freely: the screws only of the staple had given way. "That," thought Fandor, "is probably owing to the force of my thrust!" 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 chest of drawers, 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...."