M. Folgat and Dr. Seignebos looked anxiously at each other.

"Then, my little one," insisted Dr. Seignebos, "you are quite sure your mamma was in your room when the first shot was fired?"

"Certainly, doctor. And mamma, when she heard it, rose up straight, and lowered her head, like one who listens. Almost immediately, the second shot was fired. Mamma raised her hands to heaven, and cried out, 'Great G.o.d!' And then she went out, running fast."

Never was a smile more false than that which Dr. Seignebos forced himself to retain on his lips while the little girl was telling her story.

"You have dreamed all that, Martha," he said.

The governess here interposed, saying,--

"The young lady has not dreamed it, sir. I, also, heard the shots fired; and I had just opened the door of my room to hear what was going on, when I saw madame cross the landing swiftly, and rush down stairs.

"Oh! I do not doubt it," said the doctor, in the most indifferent tone he could command: "the circ.u.mstance is very trifling."

But the little girl was bent on finishing her story.

"When mamma had left," she went on, "I became frightened, and raised myself on my bed to listen. Soon I heard a noise which I did not know,--cracking and snapping of wood, and then cries at a distance. I got more frightened, jumped down, and ran to open the door. But I nearly fell down, there was such a cloud of smoke and sparks. Still I did not lose my head. I waked my little sister, and tried to get on the staircase, when Cocoleu rushed in like a madman, and took us both out."

"Martha," called a voice from the house, "Martha!"

The child cut short her story, and said,--

"Mamma is calling me."

And, dropping again her nice little courtesy, she said,--

"Good-by, gentlemen!"

Martha had disappeared; and Dr. Seignebos and M. Folgat, still standing on the same spot, looked at each other in utter distress.

"We have nothing more to do here," said M. Folgat.

"No, indeed! Let us go back and make haste; for perhaps they are waiting for me. You must breakfast with me."

They went away very much disheartened, and so absorbed in their defeat, that they forgot to return the salutations with which they were greeted in the street,--a circ.u.mstance carefully noticed by several watchful observers.

When the doctor reached home, he said to his servant,--

"This gentleman will breakfast with me. Give us a bottle of medis."

And, when he had shown the advocate into his study, he asked,--

"And now what do you think of your adventure?"

M. Folgat looked completely undone.

"I cannot understand it," he murmured.

"Could it be possible that the countess should have tutored the child to say what she told us?"

"No."

"And her governess?"

"Still less. A woman of that character trusts n.o.body. She struggles; she triumphs or succ.u.mbs alone."

"Then the child and the governess have told us the truth?"

"I am convinced of that."

"So am I. Then she had no share in the murder of her husband?"

"Alas!"

M. Folgat did not notice that his "Alas!" was received by Dr. Seignebos with an air of triumph. He had taken off his spectacles, and, wiping them vigorously, he said,--

"If the countess is innocent, Jacques must be guilty, you think? Jacques must have deceived us all, then?"

M. Folgat shook his head.

"I pray you, doctor, do not press me just now. Give me time to collect my thoughts. I am bewildered by all these conjectures. No, I am sure M. de Boiscoran has not told a falsehood, and the countess has been his mistress. No, he has not deceived us; and on the night of the crime he really had an interview with the countess. Did not Martha tell us that her mother had gone out? And where could she have gone, except to meet M. de Boiscoran?"

He paused a moment.

"Oh, come, come!" said the physician, "you need not be afraid of me."

"Well, it might possibly be, that, after the countess had left M. de Boiscoran, Fate might have stepped in. Jacques has told us how the letters which he was burning had suddenly blazed up, and with such violence that he was frightened. Who can tell whether some burning fragments may not have set a straw-rick on fire? You can judge yourself.

On the point of leaving the place, M. de Boiscoran sees this beginning of a fire. He hastens to put it out. His efforts are unsuccessful.

The fire increases step by step: it lights up the whole front of the chateau. At that moment Count Claudieuse comes out. Jacques thinks he has been watched and detected; he sees his marriage broken off, his life ruined, his happiness destroyed; he loses his head, aims, fires, and flees instantly. And thus you explain his missing the count, and also this fact which seemed to preclude the idea of premeditated murder, that the gun was loaded with small-shot."

"Great G.o.d!" cried the doctor.

"What, what have I said?"

"Take care never to repeat that! The suggestion you make is so fearfully plausible, that, if it becomes known, no one will ever believe you when you tell the real truth."

"The truth? Then you think I am mistaken?"

"Most a.s.suredly."

Then fixing his spectacles on his nose, Dr. Seignebos added,--

"I never could admit that the countess should have fired at her husband.

I now see that I was right. She has not committed the crime directly; but she has done it indirectly."

"Oh!"

"She would not be the first woman who has done so. What I imagine is this: the countess had made up her mind, and arranged her plan, before meeting Jacques. The murderer was already at his post. If she had succeeded in winning Jacques back, her accomplice would have put away his gun, and quietly gone to bed. As she could not induce Jacques to give up his marriage, she made a sign, and the fire was lighted, and the count was shot."