'Slugs, indeed!' cried Monsieur de Condamin. 'Do you suppose he troubles himself about slugs? Do people go hunting for slugs with a candle? No; I agree with Monsieur Maffre in thinking that there is some crime at the bottom of the matter. Did this man Mouret ever have a servant who disappeared mysteriously? There ought to be an inquiry made.'
Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies thought that his friend the conservator of rivers and forests was theorising a little further than the facts warranted. He took a sip at his tea and said:
'No, no; my dear sir. He is mad and has extraordinary fancies, but that is all. It is quite bad enough as it is.'
He then took a plate of biscuits, handed it to Monsieur Rastoil's daughter with a gallant bow, and after putting it down again continued:
'And to think this wretched man has mixed himself up in politics! I don't want to insinuate anything against your alliance with the Republicans, my dear judge, but you must allow that in Mouret the Marquis de Lagrifoul had a very peculiar supporter.'
Monsieur Rastoil, who had become very grave, made a vague gesture, without saying anything.
'And he still busies himself with these matters. It is politics, perhaps, which have turned his brain,' said the fair Octavie, as she delicately wiped her lips. 'They say he takes the greatest interest in the approaching elections, don't they, my dear?'
She addressed this question to her husband, casting a glance at him as she spoke.
'He is quite bursting over the matter!' cried Monsieur de Condamin. 'He declares that he can entirely control the election, and can have a shoemaker returned if he chooses.'
'You are exaggerating,' said Doctor Porquier. 'He no longer has the influence he used to have; the whole town jeers at him.'