"Don't you recollect that Bras Rouge brought here in the evening a well-dressed man, who was desirous of concealing himself?"
"Yes, now I remember. I went up to bed and left him taking his supper with you. He passed the night here, and, before daybreak, Nicholas took him to St. Ouen."
"You are sure Nicholas took him to St. Ouen?"
"You told me so next morning."
"On Christmas night you were here?"
"Yes; and what of that?"
"Why, that night this man, who had a good deal of money about him, was murdered in this house."
"Mur—! He! Here?"
"And robbed and buried by the little wood-pile."
"It is not true!" cried Martial, becoming pale with horror, and unable to believe in this fresh crime of his family. "You mean to frighten me. Once more, it is not true?"