notice of them. His opinion was not formed, and he did not wish
that anyone should be able to foretell, by any word of his, what
it would be.

"Are you better, my friend?" asked Dr. Gendron, of Guespin.

The poor fellow made an affirmative sign. Then, having looked
around with the anxious glance of a man who calculates a precipice
over which he has fallen, he passed his hand across his eyes and
stammered:

"Something to drink!"

A glass of water was brought, and he drank it at a draught, with
an expression of intense satisfaction. Then he got upon his feet.

"Are you now in a fit state to answer me?" asked the judge.

Guespin staggered a little, then drew himself up. He continued
erect before the judge, supporting himself against a table. The
nervous trembling of his hands diminished, the blood returned to
his cheeks, and as he listened, he arranged the disorder of his
clothes.

"You know the events of this night, don't you?" commenced the
judge; "the Count and Countess de Tremorel have been murdered. You
went away yesterday with all the servants of the chateau; you left
them at the Lyons station about nine o'clock; you have just
returned, alone. Where have you passed the night?"