He paused, then returned impulsively and looked at the dark bundle,—stirred it with his foot. It was certainly the figure of a woman.
"Last round," he muttered; "next, the Seine!"
His budding professional instincts prompted him to search for the pulse.
It was still.
And when he took his hand away it was covered with blood.
"Wait!"
He placed his hand over the heart, then uncovered a young but bruised and swollen face.
"The cavalry," he murmured. "She's dead; she—well, perhaps it was better."
He glanced up and down the street, as if considering whether to go his way or to call the police. There was nobody in sight near enough to attract by cries. The police were busy elsewhere. Then his face all at once lighted up.
"A good idea!" he ejaculated,—"a very good idea!"