It was a rough enough weapon, but an effective one.

The proof of its effectiveness lay stretched upon the floor beside them.
Hanaud gave it to the manager of the hotel.
"You must be very careful of this, and give it as it is to the police." Then he bent once more over Marthe Gobin.
"Did she suffer ?" he asked in a low voice.
"No; death must have been instantaneous," said the doctor.
"I am glad of that," said Hanaud, as he rose again to his feet.
In the doorway the driver of the cab was standing.
"What has he to say ?" Hanaud asked.
The man stepped forward instantly.

He was an old, red-faced, stout man, with a shiny white tall hat, like a thousand drivers of cabs.
"What have I to say, monsieur ?" he grumbled in a husky voice.

"I take up the poor woman at the station and I drive her where she bids me, and I find her dead, and my day is lost.

Who will pay my fare, monsieur ?" "I will," said Hanaud.