“By whom?”
“By Gaudry the poacher. And he saw so much of you, that he could tell us in what a bad humor you were. You were very angry. You were talking loud, and pulling the leaves from the trees.”
As he said so, the magistrate got up and took the shooting-jacket, which was lying on a chair not far from him. He searched the pockets, and pulled out of one a handful of leaves.
“Look here! you see, Gaudry has told the truth.”
“There are leaves everywhere,” said M. de Boiscoran half aloud.
“Yes; but a woman, Mrs. Courtois, saw you come out of the forest of Rochepommier. You helped her to put a sack of flour on her ass, which she could not lift alone. Do you deny it? No, you are right; for, look here! on the sleeve of your coat I see something white, which, no doubt, is flour from her bag.”
M. de Boiscoran hung his head. The magistrate went on,—
“You confess, then, that last night, between ten and eleven you were at Valpinson?”
“No, sir, I do not.”
“But this cartridge-case which I have just shown you was picked up at Valpinson, close by the ruins of the old castle.”