reputation in the village too well justified.

"We want to speak to Monsieur the Mayor," he answered. "There is
terrible need of it. Go call him, Monsieur Baptiste; he won't
blame you."

"I'd like to see anybody blame me," snapped out Baptiste.

It took ten minutes of talking and explaining to persuade the
servant. Finally, the Bertauds were admitted to a little man, fat
and red, very much annoyed at being dragged from his bed so early.
It was M. Courtois.

They had decided that Philippe should speak.

"Monsieur Mayor," he said, "we have come to announce to you a great
misfortune. A crime has been committed at Monsieur de Tremorel's."

M. Courtois was a friend of the count's; he became whiter than his
shirt at this sudden news.

"My God!" stammered he, unable to control his emotion, "what do you
say--a crime!"

"Yes; we have just discovered a body; and as sure as you are here,
I believe it to be that of the countess."

The worthy man raised his arms heavenward, with a wandering air.

"But where, when?"