"But the Minister says that we must not interfere. We must render all the assistance that we can."
"Bah! we'll render assistance when it is needed," retorted Lefèvre captiously. "But in the meantime I am not going to let that wooden-legged scoundrel slip through my fingers, to please any grey-coated marmoset who thinks he can lord it over me in my own district."
M. de Saint-Tropèze appeared interested.
"You have a clue?" he asked.
"More than that. I know who killed Maxence."
"Ah! You have got the man? Well done, my brave Lefèvre," exclaimed M. le Procureur, without, however, a very great show of enthusiasm.
"I haven't got him yet," parried Lefèvre. "But I have the description of the rascal. A little patience and I can lay my hands on him—provided that busybody does not interfere."
"Who is he, then?" queried M. de Saint-Tropèze.
"One of those damned Chouans."
"You are sure?"