s' house. His sister confirmed his statement that he had
passed the night in her house, and added that he had been particularly
cheerful and amiable. The maid, too, who had waited on him and prepared
his bed, declared that he had retired at ten o'clock. As to the
domestics at La Morne, they babbled of one thing and another. In order
to say something and not stand there like simpletons or accomplices,
they involved themselves in speeches of significant obscurity; thus one
of the servants remarked that if the master's gray mare could but speak
he could tell of some hard riding that night. The maids spoke
incoherently or shed tears; Charlotte Arlabosse even fled, but was
captured in the vineyards and incarcerated in the town prison.

These occurrences were by no means concealed from Bousquier and his
associates; nay, insignificant details were emphatically dwelt upon, in
order to give them a sense of security and assist their memory. It was
the smuggler Bach, in particular--who, with the Bancal couple, could
not at first be induced to make a statement--that the police magistrate
had in view. He had terrified judges and keepers by his violent
paroxysms of rage, and, to punish and subdue him, had been put in
chains. Unconscious of it himself, this man suffered from a fierce
longing for freedom, for he was the model of a roving vagabond and
tramp. One night when he had attempted to strangle himself. Monsieur
Jausion acquainted him with the confession of his comrade, Bousquier,
and admonished him too to abandon his fruitless stubbornness. Thereupon
the demeanor of the man changed at once; he became cheerful and
communicative, and, grinning maliciously, said: "All right, if
Bousquier knows much, I know still more." And in fact, he did know
more. He was a stammerer and took advantage of this defect to gain time
for reflection when his imagination halted, and every time he strayed
into the regions of the fabulous the keen-witted Monsieur Jausion led
him gently back to the path of reality.

This was his story: When he entered the room with Bousquier, lawyer
Fualdes was seated at the table, and was made to sign papers. The tall,
powerful man, Bastide Grammont, of course--no doubt it was Grammont;
Bach in this relied upon the information of the magistrate and upon
glib Rumor--stuck the signed papers in his pocket-book. In the
meanwhile Madame Bancal cooked a supper, chicken with vegetables, and
veal with rice; an important detail,