Unfitted for such spectacles, or for the mission he had now to
perform, M. Courtois became faint. Luckily, he borrowed from the
idea of his official importance, an energy foreign to his character.
The more difficult the preliminary examination of this affair
seemed, the more determined he was to carry it on with dignity.

"Conduct us to the place where you saw the body," said he to
Bertaud. But Papa Plantat intervened.

"It would be wiser, I think," he objected, "and more methodical,
to begin by going through the house."

"Perhaps--yes--true, that's my own view," said the mayor, grasping at
the other's counsel, as a drowning man clings to a plank. And he
made all retire excepting the brigadier and the valet de chambre,
the latter remaining to serve as guide. "Gendarmes," cried he to
the men guarding the gate, "see to it that no one goes out; prevent
anybody from entering the house, and above all, let no one go into
the garden."

Then they ascended the staircase. Drops of blood were sprinkled
all along the stairs. There was also blood on the baluster, and M.
Courtois perceived, with horror, that his hands were stained.

When they had reached the first landing-stage, the mayor said to
the valet de chambre:

"Tell me, my friend, did your master and mistress occupy the same
chamber?"