“And when he had kindled the fire,” said the magistrate again, “what did he do next?”
“He hid behind the woodpile.”
“And then?”
“He loaded his gun, and, when master came out, he fired.”
Count Claudieuse was so indignant that he forgot the pain which his wounds caused him, and raised himself on his bed.
“It is monstrous,” he exclaimed, “to allow an idiot to charge an honorable man with such a crime! If he really saw M. de Boiscoran set the house on fire, and hide himself in order to murder me, why did he not come and warn me?”
Mr. Galpin repeated the question submissively, to the great amazement of the mayor and M. Daubigeon.
“Why did you not give warning?” he asked Cocoleu.
But the efforts which the unfortunate man had made during the last half-hour had exhausted his little strength. He broke out into stupid laughter; and almost instantly one of his fearful nervous attacks overcame him: he fell down yelling, and had to be carried away.
The magistrate had risen, pale and deeply excited, but evidently meditating on what was to be done next. The commonwealth attorney asked him in an undertone what he was going to do; and the lawyer replied,—