The cry was so terrible it awoke the count; he rang violently, bringing the whole household to their feet; and the groans of Madame Michaud, who as she lay on the ground, gave birth to a child that died in being born, brought the general and all the servants about her.  They raised the poor dying woman, who expired, saying to the general:  “They have murdered him!”

“Joseph!” cried the count to his valet, “go for the doctor; there may yet be time to save her.  No, better bring the curate; the poor woman is dead, and her child too.  My God! my God! how thankful I am that my wife is not here.  And you,” he said to the gardener, “go and find out what has happened.”

“I can tell you,” said the pavilion servant, coming up, “Monsieur Michaud’s horse has come back alone, the reins broke, his legs bloody; and there’s a spot of blood on the saddle.”

“What can be done at this time of night?” cried the count.  “Call up Groison, send for the keepers, saddle the horses; we’ll beat the country.”

By daybreak, eight persons—­the count, Groison, the three keepers, and two gendarmes sent from Soulanges with their sergeant—­searched the country.  It was not till the middle of the morning that they found the body of the bailiff in a copse between the mail-road and the smaller road leading to Ville-aux-Fayes, at the end of the park of Les Aigues, not far from Conches.  Two gendarmes started, one to Ville-aux-Fayes for the prosecuting attorney, the other to Soulanges for the justice of the peace.  Meantime the general, assisted by the sergeant, noted down the facts.  They found on the road, just above the two pavilions, the print of the stamping of the horse’s feet as he roared, and the traces of his frightened gallop from there to the first opening in the woods above the hedge.  The horse, no longer guided, turned into the wood-path.  Michaud’s hat was found there.  The animal evidently took the nearest way to reach his stable.  The bailiff had a ball though his back which broke the spine.

Groison and the sergeant studied the ground around the spot where the horse reared (which might be called, in judicial language, the theatre of the crime) with remarkable sagacity, but without obtaining any clue.  The earth was too frozen to show the footprints of the murderer, and all they found was the paper of a cartridge.  When the attorney and the judge and Monsieur Gourdon, the doctor, arrived and raised the body to make the autopsy, it was found that the ball, which corresponded with the fragments of the wad, was an ammunition ball, evidently from a military musket; and no such musket existed in the district of Blangy.  The judge and Monsieur Soudry the attorney, who came that evening to the chateau, thought it best to collect all the facts and await events.  The same opinion was expressed by the sergeant and the lieutenant of the gendarmerie.