V

The staircase had been put under guard, but the vestibule had
remained free. People were heard coming and going, tramping and
coughing; then rising above this continuous noise, the oaths of
the gendarmes trying to keep back the crowd. From time to time, a
scared face passed by the dining-room door, which was ajar. These
were curious folks who, more daring than the rest, wished to see
the "men of justice" eating, and tried to hear a word or two, to
report them, and so become important in the eyes of the others.
But the "men of justice"--as they said at Orcival--took care to
say nothing of moment while the doors were open, and while a
servant was passing to and fro. Greatly moved by this frightful
crime, disturbed by the mystery which surrounded it, they hid
their impressions. Each, on his part, studied the probability of
his suspicions, and kept his opinion to himself.

M. Domini, as he ate, put his notes in order, numbering the leaves,
marking certain peculiarly significant answers of the suspected
persons with a cross. He was, perhaps, the least tormented of the
four companions at this funereal repast. The crime did not seem to
him one of those which keep judges of instruction sleepless through
the night; he saw clearly the motive of it; and he had Bertaud and
Guespin, two of the assassins, or at least accomplices, secure.

M. Plantat and Dr. Gendron, seated next each other, were talking
of the illness which carried off Sauvresy. M. Courtois listened to
the hubbub without.