"What more is there to tell!"
"A trifle perhaps, as you will think," remarked the Judge ironically, but as one who, finding a crime, must needs find the criminal too. "I must ask you to inform the Court who was the too polite friend of Madame."
"Monsieur, pardon me. I forgot. It is essential, of course. You must know that there is a flume, a great wooden channel—"
"Yes, yes. I comprehend. Once I had a case of a flume. It was fifteen feet deep and it let in the water of the river to the mill-wheels. A flume regulates, concentrates, and controls the water power. I comprehend perfectly. Well?"
"So. This flume for Jean Jacques' mill was also fifteen feet deep or more. It was out of repair, and Jean Jacques called in a master- carpenter from Laplatte, Masson by name—George Masson—to put the flume right."
"How long ago was that?"
"A month ago. But Masson was not here all the time. It was his workmen who did the repairs, but he came over to see—to superintend. At first he came twice in the week. Then he came every day."
"Ah, then he came every day! How do you know that?"
"It was my custom to walk to the mill every day—to watch the work on the flume. It was only four miles away across the fields and through the woods, making a walk of much charm—especially in the autumn, when the colours of the foliage are so fine, and the air has a touch of pensiveness, so that one is induced to reflection."
There was the slightest tinge of impatience in the Judge's response. "Yes, yes, I understand. You walked to study life and to reflect and to enjoy your intimacy with nature, but also to see our friend Zoe and her home. And I do not wonder. She has a charm which makes me sad— for her."