Besides, he was not thinking of it. Lupin inspired him with a queer, complex feeling, made up of fear, hatred, involuntary admiration and also the vague instinct that he, Ganimard, in spite of all his efforts, in spite of the persistency of his endeavours, would never get the better of this particular adversary. He pursued him from a sense of duty and pride, but with the continual dread of being taken in by that formidable hoaxer and scouted and fooled in the face of a public that was always only too willing to laugh at the chief-inspector's mishaps. This business of the red scarf, in particular, struck him as most suspicious. It was interesting, certainly, in more ways than one, but so very improbable! And Lupin's explanation, apparently so logical, would never stand the test of a severe examination! "No," said Ganimard, "this is all swank: a parcel of suppositions and guesswork based upon nothing at all. I'm not to be caught with chaff." * * * * * When he reached the headquarters of police, at 36 Quai des Orfevres, he had quite made up his mind to treat the incident as though it had never happened. He went up to the Criminal Investigation Department. Here, one of his fellow-inspectors said: "Seen the chief?" "No." "He was asking for you just now." "Oh, was he?" "Yes, you had better go after him." "Where?" "To the Rue de Berne ... there was a murder there last night." "Oh! Who's the victim?" "I don't know exactly ... a music-hall singer, I believe." Ganimard simply muttered: "By Jove!" Twenty minutes later he stepped out of the underground railway-station and made for the Rue de Berne. The victim, who was known in the theatrical world by her stage-name of Jenny Saphir, occupied a small flat on the second floor of one of the houses. A policeman took the chief-inspector upstairs and showed him the way, through two sitting-rooms, to a bedroom, where he found the magistrates in charge of the inquiry, together with the divisional surgeon and M. Dudouis, the head of the detective-service. Ganimard started at the first glance which he gave into the room. He saw, lying on a sofa, the corpse of a young woman whose hands clutched a strip of red silk! One of the shoulders, which appeared above the low-cut bodice, bore the marks of two wounds surrounded with clotted blood. The distorted and almost blackened features still bore an expression of frenzied terror. The divisional surgeon, who had just finished his examination, said: "My first conclusions are very clear. The victim was twice stabbed with a dagger and afterward strangled. The immediate cause of death was asphyxia." "By Jove!" thought Ganimard again, remembering Lupin's words and the picture which he had drawn of the crime. The examining-magistrate objected: "But the neck shows no discoloration." "She may have been strangled with a napkin or a handkerchief," said the doctor.