The old offender’s assurance was sensibly diminished by this proof of her prevarication. However, instead of discussing the subject any further, the magistrate glided over it as if he did not attach much importance to the incident.
“And the other men,” he resumed, “those who were killed: did you know them?”
“No, good sir, no more than I knew Adam and Eve.”
“And were you not surprised to see three men utterly unknown to you, and accompanied by two women, enter your establishment?”
“Sometimes chance—”
“Come! you do not think of what you are saying. It was not chance that brought these customers, in the middle of the night, to a wine-shop with a reputation like yours—an establishment situated far from any frequented route in the midst of a desolate waste.”
“I’m not a sorceress; I say what I think.”
“Then you did not even know the youngest of the victims, the man who was attired as a soldier, he who was named Gustave?”
“Not at all.”
M. Segmuller noted the intonation of this response, and then slowly added: “But you must have heard of one of Gustave’s friends, a man called Lacheneur?”