Over the mantelpiece hung a cheap oleograph.
Freyberger stood in the doorway before entering. He seemed trying to catch, so to speak, the expression of the room; to surprise it suddenly out of some secret.
But there was nothing at all to tell of the personality of the individual who had last occupied it.
Everything was in order.
In a room just like this, some months ago, two chairs drawn close together at a table, a hairpin lying on the floor between them, and the envelope of a letter stuck in the support of the looking-glass to keep it straight, had gived him a clue that had brought a forger and his mistress to justice.
But there was nothing here of any description to build a clue upon.
He inspected the floor narrowly, then the grate; then he lifted the lid of the trunk, it was empty.
The two top drawers of the chest of drawers in the window were empty; but the large middle drawer was heavy, and difficult to pull out.
It was nearly filled with large pieces of marble.
Freyberger whistled.