“For my part,” she said to her companion, in a voice sufficiently loud for Banastre and Bérard to hear, “I believe that if Firmin did not kill the gamekeeper, it was not because he did not want to do it.”
“Why?” asked Rosalie.
“Well, he probably set out for that purpose.”
“Take care, Mam’selle Léocadia, somebody might hear you.”
“Well, I should like to know what he was doing behind the rocks of Trinquelin at eleven o’clock at night.”
“Good heavens, yes!”
“He had a gun, and I believe he was lying in wait for the gamekeeper when his leg gave out. I tell you that was it.”
“All the same, it has been proven that it could not have been Firmin.”
“Very true. But do you suppose that Firmin, who allowed himself to be boxed on the ears once before by Savin, like the coward that he is, would have had the courage to deal this blow unless somebody had goaded him on?”
Rosalie lowered her voice considerably: “Do you mean Catherine?”