They will probably be found in the garden.

I should conjecture that the bullet was round-nosed.

A conical bullet would have caused less destruction." However, the commissary.

Monsieur Josse-Arbrissel, a tall, thin man with a long grey moustache, seemed neither to see nor to hear.

A dog was howling outside the garden gate.
"The direction of the wound," said the doctor, "as well as the fingers of the right hand, which are still contracted, are more than ample proof of suicide." He lit a cigar.
"We are sufficiently informed," remarked the commissary.
"I regret, gentlemen, to have disturbed you," said Robert de Ligny, "and I thank you for the courteous manner in which you have carried out your official duties." The secretary and the police agent, Madame Simonneau showing the way, carried the body up to the first floor.
Monsieur Josse-Arbrissel was biting his nails and looking into space.
"A tragedy of jealousy," he remarked, "nothing is more common.