This morning, about seven o'clock, Madame Beju, a housekeeper in the service of the painter, Jacques Dollon, who, with his sister, Mademoiselle Elizabeth Dollon, occupied lodge number six, in the Close of the rue Norvins, was on the ground-floor of the house, attending to her customary duties. She had been on the premises about half an hour, and, so far, had not noticed anything abnormal; however, astonished at not hearing any movements on the floor above, for the painter generally rose pretty early, Madame Beju decided to go upstairs and wake her master, who would be vexed at having let himself sleep so late. She had to pass through the studio to reach Monsieur Jacques Dollon's bedroom. No sooner had she raised the door curtain of the studio than she recoiled, horrorstruck! Disorder reigned in the studio: a startling disorder! Pieces of furniture displaced, some of them overturned, showed that something extraordinary had happened there. In the middle of the room, on the floor, lay the inanimate form of a person whom Madame Beju knew well, for she had seen her at the painter's house many a time--the Baroness de Vibray. Not far from her, buried in a large arm-chair, motionless, giving no sign of life, was Monsieur Jacques Dollon! When the good woman saw the rigid attitude of these two persons, she realised that she was in the presence of a tragedy. Stirred to the depths, she redescended the stairs, calling for help: shortly afterwards, the entire Close was in a state of ferment: house porters, neighbours, male and female, crowded round Madame Beju, endeavouring to understand her disconnected account of the terrifying spectacle she had come face to face with but a minute before. Sudden death, suicide, crime--all were plausible suppositions. The more audacious of these gossip-mongers had ventured as far as the studio door; from that standpoint, a rapid glance round enabled them to get a clear idea of the truth of the housekeeper's statements: they returned to give a confirmation of them to the inquisitive and increasing crowd in the principal avenue of the Close. 'The police! The police must be informed!' cried the Close portress. Whilst this woman, with considerable presence of mind, and aided by Madame Beju, exerted herself to keep out the people of the neighbourhood who had got wind of the tragedy, two men had set off to seek the police. _Lodge Number 6_