"Of course I did. I ran round the house into the street, and on arriving at the first corner I saw a man entering a cab, but he was half inside, and too far away for me to recognise who he was. I ran as hard as I could, and shouted to the cocher, but he lashed his horse into a gallop and disappeared. When I returned to the house I searched the room again, and found the broken injection needle on the floor, and guessing that there was some connection between this needle and Professor Delapine's condition, I examined him and discovered that life was extinct." "Excellent, excellent," said the commissaire, delighted, and rubbing his hands together as if he had heard a good story. "Parbleu," he cried, "but, mon ami, this is exceedingly interesting, perfectly romantic. Ah, mon cher docteur, our task grows more and more delightful. I must instruct my attendants this instant," and excusing himself he ran off as fast as his little legs could carry him. In the midst of his haste, however, a sudden thought struck him, and he returned to Dr. Villebois, and taking him on one side asked: "Can you tell me, doctor, what was the cause of the fire?" "It was undoubtedly a case of arson," replied Villebois and Riche together. "Why do you think so?" enquired the commissaire. "One of the firemen found a handful of half-burnt shavings in a corner of Dr. Riche's room which smelt strongly of petroleum, indeed the whole atmosphere reeked of it." "Let us go to the room at once," said M. Biron. On arriving at Riche's room they found the place in a terrible state. Everything was saturated with water, and all the contents were charred, and had been piled up by the firemen in a heap. As Dr. Villebois had said, the place reeked of naphtha and bore traces of having been intentionally set on fire. "I understand it all," said Riche. "Someone has set fire to my bedroom in order to draw the guests away from the séance room, so that he might have a free hand to inject the poison unobserved into the arm of the sleeping professor." "Ha, ha, you are a born detective, Dr. Riche. Nothing can be clearer," and the commissaire adjusted his spectacles to his entire satisfaction. "A sprat to catch a mackerel, eh?" and he positively beamed with professional pride. M. Biron, having made his inspection of the house, and cross-questioned all the guests without obtaining any fresh information, cordially shook hands with the two doctors and departed, bubbling over with zeal, and feeling intoxicated with the importance of his mission. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 9: Ah, who will give the lost one her vanished dream of bliss?] CHAPTER XV DR. RICHE MAKES A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY Dal sonno a la morte è un picciol varco.[10] (_Tasso Gerusalemme Liberata_, ix. 18.) Perir non lascia chi perir non merita.[11] (_Alfieri Fillipo_, Act iv. Sc. 5.) "We are of such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded with a sleep."[12]