“Perhaps he is not quite dead yet,” said the doctor.  He quickly pulled out his case of instruments and knelt beside the motionless body.

This incident seemed to annoy M. Lecoq very much; just as everything was, as he said, “running on wheels,” his principal witness, whom he had caught at the peril of his life, had escaped him.  M. Plantat, on the contrary, seemed tolerably well satisfied, as if the death of Robelot furthered projects which he was secretly nourishing, and fulfilled his secret hopes.  Besides, it little mattered if the object was to oppose M. Domini’s theories and induce him to change his opinion.  This corpse had more eloquence in it than the most explicit of confessions.

The doctor, seeing the uselessness of his pains, got up.

“It’s all over,” said he.  “The asphyxia was accomplished in a very few moments.”

The bone-setter’s body was carefully laid on the floor in the library.

“There is nothing more to be done,” said M. Plantat, “but to carry him home; we will follow on so as to seal up his effects, which perhaps contain important papers.  Run to the mairie,” he added, turning to his servant, “and get a litter and two stout men.”

Dr. Gendron’s presence being no longer necessary, he promised M. Plantat to rejoin him at Robelot’s, and started off to inquire after M. Courtois’s condition.

Louis lost no time, and soon reappeared followed, not by two, but ten men.  The body was placed on a litter and carried away.  Robelot occupied a little house of three rooms, where he lived by himself; one of the rooms served as a shop, and was full of plants, dried herbs, grain, and other articles appertaining to his vocation as an herbist.  He slept in the back room, which was better furnished than most country rooms.  His body was placed upon the bed.  Among the men who had brought it was the “drummer of the town,” who was at the same time the grave-digger.  This man, expert in everything pertaining to funerals, gave all the necessary instructions on the present occasion, himself taking part in the lugubrious task.

Meanwhile M. Plantat examined the furniture, the keys of which had been taken from the deceased’s pocket.  The value of the property found in the possession of this man, who had, two years before, lived from day to day on what he could pick up, were an over-whelming proof against him in addition to the others already discovered.  But M. Plantat looked in vain for any new indications of which he was ignorant.  He found deeds of the Morin property and of the Frapesle and Peyron lands; there were also two bonds, for one hundred and fifty and eight hundred and twenty francs, signed by two Orcival citizens in Robelot’s favor.  M. Plantat could scarcely conceal his disappointment.

“Nothing of importance,” whispered he in M. Lecoq’s ear.  “How do you explain that?”

“Perfectly,” responded the detective.  “He was a sly rogue, this Robelot, and he was cunning enough to conceal his sudden fortune and patient enough to appear to be years accumulating it.  You only find in his secretary effects which he thought he could avow without danger.  How much is there in all?”