Mouzon. There is one way to prove your innocence, since you profess to be innocent. Prove, in one way or another, that you were elsewhere than at Irissary on the night of the crime, and I will set you at liberty. Where were you?
Etchepare. Where was I?
Mouzon. I ask you where you were on the night of Ascension Day. Were you at home?
Etchepare. Yes.
Mouzon. Is that really the truth?
Etchepare. Yes.
Mouzon [rising, rather theatrically, pointing at Etchepare] Now, Etchepare, that condemns you. I know that you went out that night. When you were arrested you said to your wife, "Don't for the world admit that I went out last night." Come, I must tell you everything. Someone saw you—a servant. She told the gendarmes that as she was saying good-night to a young man from Iholdy, with whom she had been dancing, at ten o'clock at night, she saw you a few hundred yards from your house. What have you to say to that?
Etchepare. It is true—I did go out.
Mouzon [triumphantly] Ah! Now, my good man, we've had some trouble in getting you to say something. But I can read it in your face when you are lying—I can read it in your face in letters as big as that. The proof is that there was no witness who saw you go out—neither your servant nor anyone else; and yet I would have sworn to it with my head under the knife. Come, we have made a little progress now. [To the recorder] Have you put down carefully his first admission? Good. [To Etchepare] Now think for a moment. We will continue our little conversation. [He goes towards the fireplace, rubbing his hands, pours himself a glass of spirits, swallows it, gives a sigh of gratification, and returns to his chair]
First Gendarme [to his comrade] A cunning one, he is!