The body gave two or three jerks. The feet had instinctively felt for a resting-place. Then nothing moved. . . .
A few seconds more. . . . The little glazed door opened.
Sernine entered.
Without the least haste he took the sheet of paper to which the young man had set his signature, and read:
"Tired of living, ill, penniless, hopeless, I am taking my own life. Let no one be accused of my death.
"Gérard Baupré.
"30 April."
He put back the paper on the table where it could be seen, picked up the chair and placed it under the young man's feet. He himself climbed up on the table and, holding the body close to him, lifted it up, loosened the slip-knot and passed the head through it.
The body sank into his arms. He let it slide along the table and, jumping to the floor, laid it on the bed.
Then, with the same coolness, he opened the door on the passage: