"She is quite cold," he continued, "and it seems to me that she is no
longer very stiff. It is at least thirty-six hours since she received
her death-blow."

The commissary began writing, on the corner of a table, a short official
report.

"We are not here to talk, but to discover the guilty," said he to the
corporal. "Let information be at once conveyed to the justice of the
peace, and the mayor, and send this letter without delay to the Palais
de Justice. In a couple of hours, an investigating magistrate can be
here. In the meanwhile, I will proceed to make a preliminary inquiry."

"Shall I carry the letter?" asked the corporal of gendarmes.

"No, send one of your men; you will be useful to me here in keeping
these people in order, and in finding any witnesses I may want. We
must leave everything here as it is. I will install myself in the other
room."

A gendarme departed at a run towards the station at Rueil; and the
commissary commenced his investigations in regular form, as prescribed
by law.

"Who was Widow Lerouge? Where did she come from? What did she do? Upon
what means, and how did she live? What were her habits, her morals, and
what sort of company did she keep? Was she known to have enemies? Was
she a miser? Did she pass for being rich?"

The commissary knew the importance of ascertaining all this: but