, it's provoking. It will be a good lesson
for that Philippe; it'll teach him what it costs to render a service
to gentlefolks."

"Enough!" interrupted M. Domini, sternly. "Do you know Guespin?"

This name suddenly subdued the careless insolence of the marauder;
his little gray eyes experienced a singular restlessness.

"Certainly," he answered in an embarrassed tone, "we have often made
a party at cards, you understand, while sipping our 'gloria.'"*

[* Coffee and brandy.]

The man's inquietude struck the four who heard him. Plantat,
especially, betrayed profound surprise. The old vagabond was too
shrewd not to perceive the effect which he produced.

"Faith, so much the worse!" cried he: "I'll tell you everything.
Every man for himself, isn't it? If Guespin has done the deed, it
will not blacken him any more, nor make him any the worse off. I
know him, simply because he used to sell me the grapes and
strawberries from the count's conservatories; I suppose he stole
them; we divided the money, and I left."

Plantat could not refrain from an exclamation of satisfaction, as
if to say, "Good luck! I knew it well enough!"

When he said he would be sent to prison, Bertaud was not wrong.
The judge ordered his arrest.

It was now Philippe's turn.

The poor fellow was in a pitiable state; he was crying bitterly.

"To accuse me of such a crime, me!" he kept repeating.

On being questioned he told the pure and simple truth, excusing
himself, however, for having dared to penetrate into the park.
When he was asked at what hour his father reached home, he said he
knew nothing about it; he had gone to bed about nine, and had not
awoke until morning. He knew Guespin, from having seen him at his
father's several times. He knew that the old man had some
transactions with the gardener, but he was ignorant as to what they
were. He had never spoken four times to Guespin. The judge
ordered Philippe to be set at liberty, not that he was wholly
convinced of his innocence, but because if the crime had been
committed by several persons, it was well to have one of them
free; he could be watched, and he would betray the whereabouts
of the rest.

Meanwhile the count's body was nowhere to be found. The park had
been rigidly searched, but in vain. The mayor suggested that he
had been thrown into the river, which was also M. Domini's opinion;
and some fishermen were sent to drag the Seine, commencing their
search a little above the