“It is clear that Patachaud has defended his master, and that the dead man was the murderer.”
Andoche tried to cover the dead man’s face, but he was too late. Léocadia Faillot uttered a cry.
It was Fadard.
A profound, stifling silence ensued. All felt that it was the duty of the magistrate to draw deductions. Finally he spoke.
“Is this not the man we questioned this morning?”
“Yes, Monsieur. It is Fadard.”
“He must, then, be the assassin.”
“No!” cried Léocadia, “no, Monsieur. He is a relative of mine. I know him intimately.”
“Nevertheless, the gamekeeper’s dog has choked him to death, to avenge his master.”
“The keeper’s dog,” ranted the woman, “was mad, and threw himself at the neck of my cousin, who was the first person the cur happened to meet.”