"Just now, at the foot of the park, as we were going to take up
our nets."

"It is horrible!" exclaimed the good M. Courtois; "what a calamity!
So worthy a lady! But it is not possible--you must be mistaken;
I should have been informed--"

"We saw it distinctly, Monsieur Mayor."

"Such a crime in my village! Well, you have done wisely to come
here. I will dress at once, and will hasten off--no, wait." He
reflected a moment, then called:

"Baptiste!"

The valet was not far off. With ear and eye alternately pressed
against the key-hole, he heard and looked with all his might. At
the sound of his master's voice he had only to stretch out his hand
and open the door.

"Monsieur called me?"

"Run to the justice of the peace," said the mayor. "There is not
a moment to lose. A crime has been committed--perhaps a murder
--you must go quickly. And you," addressing the poachers, "await
me here while I slip on my coat."

The justice of the peace at Orcival, M. Plantat--"Papa Plantat,"
as he was called--was formerly an attorney at Melun. At fifty,