"Come, madame, you really must assist the officers of the law and at least tell us what you think. Do you believe that there may have been an accident and that possibly M. de Gorne, who had been to see his father and had more to drink than usual, lost his balance and fell into the well?"
"When my husband came back from seeing his father, he was not in the least intoxicated."
"His father, however, has stated that he was. His father and he had drunk two or three bottles of wine."
"His father is not telling the truth."
"But the snow tells the truth, madame," said the deputy, irritably. "And the line of his footprints wavers from side to side."
"My husband came in at half-past-eight, monsieur, before the snow had begun to fall."
The deputy struck the table with his fist:
"But, really, madame, you're going right against the evidence!... That sheet of snow cannot speak false!... I may accept your denial of matters that cannot be verified. But these footprints in the snow ... in the snow...."
He controlled himself.
The motor-car drew up outside the windows. Forming a sudden resolve, he said to Natalie: