"Oh, we'll find him," returned M. Domini. "Before leaving Corbeil, I sent a despatch to the prefecture of police at Paris, to ask for a police agent, who will doubtless be here shortly."
"While waiting," proposed the mayor, "perhaps you would like to see the scene of the crime?"
M. Domini made a motion as if to rise; then sat down again.
"In fact, no," said he; "we will see nothing till the agent arrives. But
I must have some information concerning the Count and Countess de
Tremorel."
The worthy mayor again triumphed.
"Oh, I can give it to you," answered he quickly, "better than anybody. Ever since their advent here, I may say, I have been one of their best friends. Ah, sir, what charming people! excellent, and affable, and devoted—"
And at the remembrance of all his friends' good qualities, M. Courtois choked in his utterance.
"The Count de Tremorel," he resumed, "was a man of thirty-four years, handsome, witty to the tips of his nails. He had sometimes, however, periods of melancholy, during which he did not wish to see anybody; but he was ordinarily so affable, so polite, so obliging; he knew so well how to be noble without haughtiness, that everybody here esteemed and loved him."
"And the countess?" asked the judge of instruction.
"An angel, Monsieur, an angel on earth! Poor lady! You will soon see her remains, and surely you would not guess that she has been the queen of the country, by reason of her beauty."