“Very well,” said Gevrol.  “Then if the man came after half-past nine his shoes must have been very muddy.  If they were dry, he arrived sooner.  This must have been noticed, for the floor is a polished one.  Were there any imprints of footsteps, M. Commissary?”

“I must confess we never thought of looking for them.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the chief detective, in a tone of irritation, “that is vexatious!”

“Wait,” added the commissary; “there is yet time to see if there are any, not in this room, but in the other.  We have disturbed absolutely nothing there.  My footsteps and the corporal’s will be easily distinguished.  Let us see.”

As the commissary opened the door of the second chamber, Gevrol stopped him.  “I ask permission, sir,” said he to the investigating magistrate, “to examine the apartment before any one else is permitted to enter.  It is very important for me.”

“Certainly,” approved M. Daburon.

Gevrol passed in first, the others remaining on the threshold.  They all took in at a glance the scene of the crime.  Everything, as the commissary had stated, seemed to have been overturned by some furious madman.  In the middle of the room was a table covered with a fine linen cloth, white as snow.  Upon this was placed a magnificent wineglass of the rarest manufacture, a very handsome knife, and a plate of the finest porcelain.  There was an opened bottle of wine, hardly touched, and another of brandy, from which about five or six small glassfuls had been taken.

On the right, against the wall, stood two handsome walnut-wood wardrobes, with ornamental locks; they were placed one on each side of the window; both were empty, and the contents scattered about on all sides.  There were clothing, linen, and other effects unfolded, tossed about, and crumpled.  At the end of the room, near the fireplace, a large cupboard used for keeping the crockery was wide open.  On the other side of the fireplace, an old secretary with a marble top had been forced, broken, smashed into bits, and rummaged, no doubt, to its inmost recesses.  The desk, wrenched away, hung by a single hinge.  The drawers had been pulled out and thrown upon the floor.

To the left of the room stood the bed, which had been completely disarranged and upset.  Even the straw of the mattress had been pulled out and examined.

“Not the slightest imprint,” murmured Gevrol disappointed.  “He must have arrived before half-past nine.  You can all come in now.”

He walked right up to the corpse of the widow, near which he knelt.

“It can not be said,” grumbled he, “that the work is not properly done! the assassin is no apprentice!”

Then looking right and left, he continued:  “Oh! oh! the poor devil was busy with her cooking when he struck her; see her pan of ham and eggs upon the hearth.  The brute hadn’t patience enough to wait for the dinner.  The gentleman was in a hurry, he struck the blow fasting; therefore he can’t invoke the gayety of dessert in his defense!”