“Still the fire had broken out.”
“I was not asleep at that time, doctor. I had been roused by the slamming of the door, which mamma had closed very noisily when she came in.”
One and the same presentiment made M. Folgat tremble and the doctor.
“You must be mistaken, Martha,” the doctor went on. “Your mamma had not come back at the time of the fire.”
“Oh, yes, sir!”
“No, you are mistaken.”
The little girl drew herself up with that solemn air which children are apt to assume when their statements are doubted. She said,—
“I am quite sure of what I say, and I remember every thing perfectly. I had been put to bed at the usual hour, and, as I was very tired with playing, I had fallen asleep at once. While I was asleep, mamma had gone out; but her coming back waked me up. As soon as she came in, she bent over little sister’s bed, and looked at her for a moment so sadly, that I thought I should cry. Then she went, and sat down by the window; and from my bed, where I lay silently watching her, I saw the tears running down her cheeks, when all of a sudden a shot was fired.”
M. Folgat and Dr. Seignebos looked anxiously at each other.
“Then, my little one,” insisted Dr. Seignebos, “you are quite sure your mamma was in your room when the first shot was fired?”