"That mademoiselle is mistaken, as I can easily show you with one
word. Yesterday, at the time stated, I was at Veules."

"You will have to prove it, you will have to. In any case, the
position is not what it was. Sergeant, one of your men will keep
monsieur company."

Isidore Beautrelet's face denoted a keen vexation.

"Will it be for long?"

"Long enough to collect the necessary information."

"Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction, I beseech you to collect it with
all possible speed and discretion."

"Why?"

"My father is an old man. We are very much attached to each other--
and I would not have him suffer on my account."

The more or less pathetic note in his voice made a bad impression on
M. Filleul. It suggested a scene in a melodrama. Nevertheless, he
promised:

"This evening--or to-morrow at latest, I shall know what to think."

The afternoon was wearing on. The examining magistrate returned to
the ruins of the cloisters, after giving orders that no unauthorized
persons were to be admitted, and patiently, methodically, dividing