The magistrate was so much excited, that his cold impassiveness actually threatened to give way for once.
“There has been an attempt at murder.”
“Evidently.”
“Then we can act in concert, and side by side, each one in his own line of duty, you examining, and I preparing for the trial.”
An ironical smile passed over the lips of the commonwealth attorney.
“You ought to know me well enough,” he said, “to be sure that I have never interfered with your duties and privileges. I am nothing but a good old fellow, a friend of peace and of studies.
“‘Sum piger et senior, Pieridumque comes.’”
“Then,” exclaimed M. Seneschal, “nothing keeps us here any longer. I am impatient to be off; my carriage is ready; let us go!”
II.
In a straight line it is only a mile from Sauveterre to Valpinson; but that mile is as long as two elsewhere. M. Seneschal, however, had a good horse, “the best perhaps in the county,” he said, as he got into his carriage. In ten minutes they had overtaken the firemen, who had left some time before them. And yet these good people, all of them master workmen of Sauveterre, masons, carpenters, and tilers, hurried along as fast as they could. They had half a dozen smoking torches with them to light them on the way: they walked, puffing and groaning, on the bad road, and pulling the two engines, together with the heavy cart on which they had piled up their ladders and other tools.