In a moment the door opened and M. Poisson came in.
His deportment was always good after he had some drink; you could tell
it too from his manner of coughing and spitting and fingering his
cross, for, you know, he was an Officer of the Legion of Honour.
“You have one too many here,” he said.
“Sir, I don’t know whether there is one too many, but there is a body
here without an identification card.”
“It isn’t only that,” replied M. Poisson, “I see you have eight bodies
here. Just wait a moment....”
He took out of his pocket a rumpled piece of paper, looking at it from
every possible angle, then he shouted:
“Seven! Seven only! You ought only to have seven! You fool! Who brought
this corpse here? I don’t want it. It’s not on the list. Where in the
world did it come from?”