All the doors were open and the rooms were empty. Nick glanced into these rooms, and then turned toward the desk. As he did so he saw a waiter coming down the stairs from the floor above. This man was known by the name of Gaspard. He was the head waiter, and was on duty in the lower hall. "Ah, Gaspard," said Nick, "who's your waiter on this floor to-night?" Gaspard looked at Nick anxiously. He did not, of course, know who the detective really was, but he remembered him as one who had assisted the police in a case in which that house had been concerned about two years before. "Jean Corbut," replied Gaspard. "I hope nothing is wrong." "That remains to be seen," said Nick. "What sort of a man is this Corbut?" "A little man," answered Gaspard, "and very thin. He has long, black hair, and mustaches pointed like two needles." "Have you sent him out for anything?" "Oh, no; he is here." "Where?" "In one of the rooms at the front. We have parties in A and B." "You go and find him," said Nick. "I want to see him right away." Gaspard went to the front of the house. A hall branched off at right angles with that in which Nick was standing. On the second hall were three rooms, A, B and C. Room C was next the avenue. The other two had windows on an open space between two wings of the building. Nick glanced at the register, and saw that "R.M. Clark and wife" had been assigned to room A, and "John Jones and wife" to room B. Room C was vacant. The detective had barely time to note these entries on the book when Gaspard came running back. His face was as white as paper, and his lips were working as if he were saying something, but not a sound came from them. He was struck dumb with fright. Whatever it was that he had seen must have been horrible, to judge from the man's trembling limbs and distorted face. Nick had seen people in that condition before, and he did not waste time trying to get any information out of Gaspard. Instead, he seized the frightened fellow by the shoulder and pushed him along toward the front of the house. Gaspard made a feeble resistance. Evidently he did not want to see again the sight which had so terrified him. But he was powerless in Nick's grasp. In five seconds they stood before the open door of room B. The door was open, and there was a bright glare of gas within. It shone upon the table, where a rich repast lay untasted. It illumined the gaudy furnishings of the room and the costly pictures upon the walls. It shone, too, upon a beautiful face, rigid and perfectly white, except for a horrible stain of black and red upon the temple. The face was that of a woman of twenty-five years. She had very abundant hair of a light corn color, which clustered in little curls around her forehead, and was gathered behind in a great mass of plaited braids.