Gautran glared at the men and women, and asked:
"Who do you take me for?"
"For Gautran. There is but one such monster. If you do not know your own face, look upon it there."
She pointed to the window, and there he beheld his own portrait, cut out of an illustrated newspaper, and beneath it his name--"GAUTRAN," to which had been added, in writing, the words, "The Murderer of Madeline, the Flower-Girl."
He could not read the inscription, but he correctly divined its nature. The moment before he saw his portrait, it had entered his mind to deny himself; he recognised now how futile the attempt would be.
"What if I am Gautran?" he exclaimed. "Do you think the law would set me free if I was guilty?"
To which the innkeeper's wife replied:
"You have escaped by a quibble. You are a murderer, and you know yourself to be one."
"Mistress," he said, "if I had you alone I would make you smart."
"How does that sound, men?" cried the innkeeper's wife with excited gestures. "Is it the speech of an innocent man? He would like to get me alone. Yes, he got one poor girl alone, and we know what became of her. The coward! the murderer! Hunt him away, neighbours. It is a disgrace to look upon him."