almost disappeared behind the
willows that bordered the river, and one could hear them barking
furiously; their barks sounded like rage mingled with terror.

"It is some duck that they have scented," observed the prosecutor.

"They wouldn't bark like that," said Monsieur de Camier, with the
sagacity of a professional hunter; "if it were a wolf, they could not
make a greater uproar. Is it by chance some wild boar who is taking a
bath, in order to receive us more ceremoniously?"

He gave the horses a vigorous blow from the whip, and they all rapidly
approached the spot where a scene was taking place which excited to the
highest pitch everybody's curiosity. Before they reached the spot, the
keeper, who had run after the dogs to call them together, came out of a
thicket, waving his hat to stop the hunters, exclaiming:

"A body! a body!"

"A body! a drowned man!" he exclaimed, when the vehicle stopped.

This time it was the public prosecutor who arose and jumped from the cart
with the agility of a deer.

"A drowned man!" said he. "In the name of the law, let nobody touch the
body. Call back the dogs."

As he said these words he hastened to the spot which the servant pointed
out to him. Everybody dismounted and followed him. Octave and Bergenheim
had exchanged strange glances when they heard the servant's words.

It was, as the servant had announced, the battered body of a man, thrown
by the current against the trunk of the tree, and there caught between
two branches of the willow as if in a vise.

"It is the carpenter!" exclaimed Monsieur de Camier as he parted the
foliage, which had prevented the head from being seen until then, for he
recognized the workman's livid, swollen features. "It is that poor devil
of a Lambernier, is it not, Bergenheim?"

"It is true!" stammered Christian, who, in spite of his boldness, could
not help turning away his eyes.

"The carpenter!--drowned!--this is frightful!--I never should have
recognized him--how disfigured he is!" exclaimed the others, as they
pressed forward to gaze at this horrible spectacle.

"This is a sad way to escape justice," observed the notary, in a
philosophical tone.

The Baron seized this opening with avidity.

"He must have crossed the river to escape," said he, "and in his haste he
made a misstep and fell."

The public prosecutor shook his head with an air of doubt.

"That is not probable," said he; "I know the place. If he tried to cross
the riv