The warder raised his hand as though taking a solemn oath:
"As to being dead, he was dead right enough!... The doctor will tell you so, too: also my colleague, Favril, who helped me to lay out the body on the bed."
"But how can a dead body get away from here? If he was dead, he could not have escaped!" said the magistrate.
"It is witchcraft!" declared the warder, with a shrug.
Fuselier flew into a rage:
"Had you not better confess that you and your colleagues did not keep proper watch and ward!... The investigation will show on whose shoulders the responsibility rests."
"But, sakes alive, monsieur!" expostulated the warder: "There aren't only two of us who have seen him dead!... There are all the hospital attendants of the Dépôt as well!... There is the doctor, and there are my colleagues to be counted in: the truth is, monsieur, some fifty persons have seen him dead!"
"So you say!" cried the impatient magistrate: "I am going to inform the Public Prosecutor of what has happened, and at once!"
As he was hurrying away, he spied Jérôme Fandor, who had not missed a single detail of the scene.
"You again!" exclaimed the irate magistrate: "How did you get in here?"