, Colard? Don't you know, then, that the murder is said to have
been committed in your house?"

Colard, brushing his scrubby moustache from his lips, replied that he
and Missonier had been in Rose Feral's tavern, alongside the Bancal
house, that night. "Had I heard a noise, sir," he said boastfully, "I
should have gone to the rescue, for I have two guns."

"Who else was at Rose Feral's?" pursued the shopkeeper. Colard
meditated and mentioned Bach and Bousquier, two notorious smugglers.
"The rascals, they had better be on their guard," said the shopkeeper,
"and you, Colard, come along with me; poor Fualdes is going to be
buried, and it is not fitting to be playing the flute."

Scarcely had they reached the main street, where a great number of
people had collected, when they were suddenly joined by Bousquier, who
exhibited a strange demeanor, now laughing, now shaking his head, now
gazing vacantly before him. Colard cast a shy, sidelong glance at him,
and the shopkeeper, who thought of nothing but the murder and saw in
all this the manifestations of a bad conscience, observed the man
keenly. Those around them, too, became watchful, and it at once struck
everybody that if any one had a knowledge of the crime committed in the
Bancal house, it was Bousquier. The excited Galtier questioned him
bluntly. Bousquier was the worse for liquor, the unusual hubbub
intoxicated him still more; he seemed confused, but felt himself, at
the same time, a person of importance. At first he assumed an air of
unwillingness to speak out, then he related with solemn
circumstantiality that he was summoned on the night of the murder by a
tobacco-dealer clad in a blue coat; three times had the stranger sent
for him, finally he went, was told to carry a heavy bundle, and was
paid with a gold piece.

Even while he was speaking, an expression of horror ran across the face
of the loquacious fellow; he grew gradually conscious of the
significance of his words. The listeners had formed a compact circle
around him, and a shrill voice rang out from the crowd: "It was surely
the corpse that was wrapped up in that bundle!"

Bousquier looked uneasy. He had to start at the beginning again and
again, and the strained glances turned upon him forced him to invent
new minor details, such as that the tobacco-dealer suddenly disappeared
in an unaccountable manner, and that his face was concealed by a black
mask, "Where did you have to carry the body?" asked Gal