until he had battered in the face, destroying features and rendering
recognition almost impossible.

A knife had given the mortal wound; that was at once apparent from the
shape of the wound. It was the knife, too, which had gashed and stabbed
the face, almost wantonly; for some of these wounds had not bled, and
the plain inference was that they had been inflicted after life had
sped. M. Floçon examined the body closely, but without disturbing it.
The police medical officer would wish to see it as it was found. The
exact position, as well as the nature of the wounds, might afford
evidence as to the manner of death.

But the Chief looked long, and with absorbed, concentrated interest, at
the murdered man, noting all he actually saw, and conjecturing a good
deal more.

The features of the mutilated face were all but unrecognizable, but the
hair, which was abundant, was long, black, and inclined to curl; the
black moustache was thick and drooping. The shirt was of fine linen, the
drawers silk. On one finger were two good rings, the hands were clean,
the nails well kept, and there was every evidence that the man did not
live by manual labour. He was of the easy, cultured class, as distinct
from the workman or operative.

This conclusion was borne out by his light baggage, which still lay
about the berth,--hat-box, rugs, umbrella, brown morocco hand-bag. All
were the property of some one well to do, or at least possessed of
decent belongings. One or two pieces bore a monogram, "F.Q.," the same
as on the shirt and under-linen; but on the bag was a luggage label,
with the name, "Francis Quadling, passenger to Paris," in full. Its