ly see all the surrounding
country. It was called the Fox's tower, without any one knowing exactly
why; and from this appellation, no doubt, had come the name Renardet,
borne by the owners of this fief, which had remained in the same family,
it was said, for more than two hundred years. For the Renardets formed
part of the upper middle class, all but noble, to be met with so often
in the province before the Revolution.

The postman dashed into the kitchen, where the servants were taking
breakfast, and exclaimed:

"Is the mayor up? I want to speak to him at once."

Mederic was recognized as a man of standing and authority, and they
understood that something serious had happened.

As soon as word was brought to Monsieur Renardet, he ordered the postman
to be sent up to him. Pale and out of breath, with his cap in his hand,
Mederic found the mayor seated at a long table covered with scattered
papers.

He was a large, tall man, heavy and red-faced, strong as an ox, and
was greatly liked in the district, although of an excessively violent
disposition. Almost forty years old and a widower for the past six
months, he lived on his estate like a country gentleman. His choleric
temperament had often brought him into trouble from which the
magistrates of Roily-le-Tors, like indulgent and prudent friends, had
extricated him. Had he not one day thrown the conductor of the
diligence from the top of his seat because he came near running over his
retriever, Micmac? Had he not broken the ribs of a gamekeeper who abused
him for having, gun in hand, passed through a neighbor's property? Had
he not even caught by the collar the sub-prefect, who stopped over
in the village during an administrative circuit, called by Monsieur
Renardet an electioneering circuit, for he was opposed to the
government, in accordance with family traditions.

The mayor asked:

"What's the matter now, Mederic?"

"I found a little girl dead in your wood."

Renardet rose to his feet, his face the color of brick.

"What do you say--a little girl?"

"Yes, m'sieu, a little girl, quite naked, on her back, with blood on
her, dead--quite dead!"

The mayor gave vent to an oath:

"By God, I'd make a bet it is little Louise Roque! I have just learned
that she did not go home to her mother last night. Where did you find
her?"

The postman described the spot, gave full details and offered to conduct
the mayor to the place.

But Renardet became brusque:

"