The Mayor asked:
"What's the matter now, Mederic?"
"I found a little girl dead in your wood."
Renardet rose up, with his face the color of brick.
"Do you say—a little girl?"
"Yes, m'sieur, a little girl, quite naked, on her back, with blood on her, dead—quite dead!"
The Mayor gave vent to an oath:
"My God, I'd make a bet 'tis little Louise Roqué! I have just learned that she did not go home to her mother last night. Where did you find her?"
The postman pointed out where the place was, gave full details, and offered to conduct the Mayor to the spot.
But Renardet became brusque: