“Come with us.”
He started to go upstairs, accompanied by the concierge, the locksmith, and one of the policemen; Saniel wished to follow them, but the other policeman barred the way.
“Pardon, Monsieur Commissioner,” Saniel said.
“What do you wish, sir?”
“I am Monsieur Caffie’s physician.”
“Your name?”
“Doctor Saniel.”
“Let the doctor pass,” the commissioner said, “but alone. Make every one go out, and shut the porte-cochere.”
On reaching the landing the commissioner stopped to look at the brown stain which, running under the door, spread over the tiling, as Caffie never had had a mat.
“It is certainly a stain of blood,” Saniel said, who stopped to examine it and dipped his finger in it.