himself, however, for having dared to penetrate into the park.
When he was asked at what hour his father reached home, he said he
knew nothing about it; he had gone to bed about nine, and had not
awoke until morning. He knew Guespin, from having seen him at his
father's several times. He knew that the old man had some
transactions with the gardener, but he was ignorant as to what they
were. He had never spoken four times to Guespin. The judge
ordered Philippe to be set at liberty, not that he was wholly
convinced of his innocence, but because if the crime had been
committed by several persons, it was well to have one of them
free; he could be watched, and he would betray the whereabouts
of the rest.

Meanwhile the count's body was nowhere to be found. The park had
been rigidly searched, but in vain. The mayor suggested that he
had been thrown into the river, which was also M. Domini's opinion;
and some fishermen were sent to drag the Seine, commencing their
search a little above the place where the countess was found.

It was then nearly three o'clock. M. Plantat remarked that probably
no one had eaten anything during the day. Would it not be wise to
take something, he suggested, if the investigations were to be
pursued till night? This appeal to the trivial necessities of our
frail humanity highly displeased the worthy mayor; but the rest
readily assented to the suggestion, and M. Courtois, though not in
the least hungry, followed the general example. Around the table
which was yet wet with the wine spilt by the assassins, the judge,
M. Plantat, the mayor, and the doctor sat down, and partook of an
improvised collation.