“Violated and murdered, as we shall prove presently. This little girl, moreover, is almost a woman—look at her throat.”
The doctor lightly drew away the handkerchief which covered her face, which looked black, frightful, the tongue protruding, the eyes bloodshot. He went on:
“By heavens! She was strangled the moment the deed was done.”
He felt her neck.
“Strangled with the hands without leaving any special trace, neither the mark of the nails nor the imprint of the fingers. Quite right. It is little Louise Roque, sure enough!”
He carefully replaced the handkerchief.
“There's nothing for me to do. She's been dead for the last hour at least. We must give notice of the matter to the authorities.”
Renardet, standing up, with his hands behind his back, kept staring with a stony look at the little body exposed to view on the grass. He murmured:
“What a wretch! We must find the clothes.”
The doctor felt the hands, the arms, the legs. He said: