_Lafcadio._ I’m longing to see him at work. What in the world are you going to offer him? _Julius._ Well, I was still hesitating. Yes, up till this very evening I was hesitating, and then, this very evening, the latest edition of the newspaper brought me just exactly the example I was in need of. A providential stroke! Frightful! Only think of it! My brother-in-law has just been murdered! _Lafcadio._ What! the old fellow in the railway carriage was.... _Julius._ He was Amédée Fleurissoire. I had just lent him my ticket and seen him off at the station. An hour before starting he had taken six thousand francs out of the bank, and as he was carrying them on his person, he was a little bit anxious as he left me; he had fancies--more or less gloomy fancies--presentiments. Well, in the train.... But you’ve seen the paper? _Lafcadio._ Only the head-lines. _Julius._ Listen! I’ll read it to you. (He unfolded the _Corriere_.) I’ll translate as I go along. “This afternoon, in the course of a thorough investigation of the line between Rome and Naples, the police discovered the body of a man lying in the dry bed of the Volturno, about five kilometers from Capua--no doubt the unfortunate owner of the coat that was found last night in a railway carriage. The body is that of a man of about fifty years of age. [He looked older than he really was.] No papers were on him which could give any clue to his identity. [Thank goodness! That’ll give me time to breathe, at any rate.] He had apparently been flung out of the railway carriage with sufficient violence to clear the parapet of the bridge, which is being repaired at this point and has been replaced by a wooden railing. [What a style!] The height of the bridge above the river is about fifteen metres. Death must have been caused by the fall, as the body bears no trace of other injuries. The man was in his shirt-sleeves; on his right wrist was a cuff similar to the one picked up in the railway carriage, but in this case the sleeve-link is missing. [What’s the matter?]” Julius stopped. Lafcadio had not been able to suppress a start, for the idea flashed upon him that the sleeve-link had been removed since the committing of the crime--Julius went on: “His left hand was found still clutching a soft felt hat....” “Soft felt indeed! The barbarians!” murmured Lafcadio. Julius raised his nose from the paper: “What are you so astonished at?” “Nothing! Nothing! Go on!” “...soft felt hat much too large for his head and which presumably belongs to the aggressor; the maker’s name has been carefully removed from the lining, out of which a piece of leather has been cut of the size and shape of a laurel leaf....”