his self-possession.

"Before going to view the bodies," said he, "I will send word to
the procureur of Corbeil. In an hour, we will have a judge of
instruction, who will finish our painful task."

A gendarme was instructed to harness the count's buggy, and to
hasten to the procureur. Then the mayor and the justice, followed
by the brigadier, the valet de chambre, and the two Bertauds, took
their way toward the river.

The park of Valfeuillu was very wide from right to left. From the
house to the Seine it was almost two hundred steps. Before the
house was a grassy lawn, interspersed with flower-beds. Two paths
led across the lawn to the river-bank.

But the murderers had not followed the paths. Making a short cut,
they had gone straight across the lawn. Their traces were perfectly
visible. The grass was trampled and stamped down as if a heavy load
had been dragged over it. In the midst of the lawn they perceived
something red; M. Plantat went and picked it up. It was a slipper,
which the valet de chambre recognized as the count's. Farther on,
they found a white silk handkerchief, which the valet declared he
had often seen around the count's neck. This handkerchief was
stained with blood.

At last they arrived at the river-bank, under the willows from
which Philippe had intended to cut off a branch; there they saw the
body. The sand at this place was much indented by feet seeking a
firm support. Everything indicated that here had been the supreme
struggle.

M. Courtois understood all the importance of these traces.

"Let no one advance," said he, and, followed by the justice of the
peace, he approached the corpse. Although the face could not be
distinguished, both recognized the countess. Both had seen her in
this gray robe, adorned with blue trimmings.

Now, how came she there?

The mayor thought that having succeeded in escaping from the hands
of the murderers, she had fled wildly. They had pursued her, had
caught up with her there, and she had fallen to rise no more. This
version explained the traces of the struggle. It must have been
the count's body that they had dragged across the lawn.

M. Courtois talked excitedly, trying to impose his ideas on the
justice. But M. Plantat hardly listened; you might have thought
him a hundred leagues from Valfeuillu; he only responded by
monosyllables--yes, no, perhaps. And the worthy mayor gave
himself great pains; he went and came, measured steps, minutely
scruti