complacency of a man who has
run down his game.

"This refusal to answer my questions is in itself tantamount to a
confession," he said acidly. "Well, we will proceed to call the
witnesses. I should like to say that the most interesting witness would
undoubtedly be Bouzille, the tramp who recovered the body of Charles
Rambert; but unfortunately that individual has no fixed abode and it has
not been possible to serve him with a subpoena."

A number of witnesses succeeded one another in the box, without,
however, throwing any fresh light upon the matter; they were peasants
who had met the two Ramberts when they were flying from the chateau,
village bakers who had sold them bread, and lockkeepers who had seen,
but been unable to recover, the floating corpse. The people in the court
began to weary of the proceedings, the more so as it was confidently
rumoured that Etienne Rambert had proudly declined to call any
witnesses on his behalf, and even to allow his counsel to make any
rhetorical appeal to the jury. It might be imprudent, but there was
something fine in his defiance.

There was, however, one more thrill of interest for the public. The
judge had explained that he deemed it unnecessary to call the detective
Juve, inasmuch as all the information he had to give was already
detailed in the long indictment, but as Mme. de Langrune's granddaughter
was present in court, he would exercise his discretion and request her
to answer one or two questions. And, much taken aback by this unexpected
publicity, Therese Auvernois followed the usher to the witness-box.

"Mademoiselle Therese Auvernois, I need hardly ask if you recognise M.
Rambert: but do you identify him as the person whose conversation with
young Charles Rambert you overheard on that fatal night at the chateau
of Beaulieu?"

"Yes, sir, that is M. Etienne Rambert," she replied in low tones, and
with a long and tender look of pity at the defendant.

"Will you please tell us anything you know that has any bearing upon the
charge brought against the defendant, the charge of having killed his
son?"

Therese made a visible effort to restrain her distress.

"I can only say one thing, sir: that M. Rambert was talking to his son
in tones of such terrible distress that I knew his heart was broken by
the tragedy. I have heard so much from my dear grandmother about M.
Etienne Rambert that I can only remember that she always declared him to
be a man of the very highest