The mayor asked: 

“What’s the matter now, Mederic?”

“I found a little girl dead in your wood.”

Renardet rose to his feet, his face the color of brick.

“What do you say—­a little girl?”

“Yes, m’sieu, a little girl, quite naked, on her back, with blood on her, dead—­quite dead!”

The mayor gave vent to an oath: 

“By God, I’d make a bet it is little Louise Roque!  I have just learned that she did not go home to her mother last night.  Where did you find her?”

The postman described the spot, gave full details and offered to conduct the mayor to the place.

But Renardet became brusque: 

“No, I don’t need you.  Send the watchman, the mayor’s secretary and the doctor to me at once, and resume your rounds.  Quick, quick, go and tell them to meet me in the wood.”

The letter carrier, a man used to discipline, obeyed and withdrew, angry and grieved at not being able to be present at the investigation.

The mayor, in his turn, prepared to go out, took his big soft hat and paused for a few seconds on the threshold of his abode.  In front of him stretched a wide sward, in which were three large beds of flowers in full bloom, one facing the house and the others at either side of it.  Farther on the outlying trees of the wood rose skyward, while at the left, beyond the Brindille, which at that spot widened into a pond, could be seen long meadows, an entirely green flat sweep of country, intersected by trenches and hedges of pollard willows.

To the right, behind the stables, the outhouses and all the buildings connected with the property, might be seen the village, which was wealthy, being mainly inhabited by cattle breeders.

Renardet slowly descended the steps in front of his house, and, turning to the left, gained the water’s edge, which he followed at a slow pace, his hand behind his back.  He walked on, with bent head, and from time to time glanced round in search of the persons he had sent for.

When he stood beneath the trees he stopped, took off his hat and wiped his forehead as Mederic had done, for the burning sun was darting its fiery rays on the earth.  Then the mayor resumed his journey, stopped once more and retraced his steps.  Suddenly, stooping down, he steeped his handkerchief in the stream that glided along at his feet and spread it over his head, under his hat.  Drops of water flowed down his temples over his ears, which were always purple, over his strong red neck, and made their way, one after the other, under his white shirt collar.

As nobody had appeared, he began tapping with his foot, then he called out: 

“Hello!  Hello!”

A voice at his right answered: 

“Hello!  Hello!”

And the doctor appeared under the trees.  He was a thin little man, an ex-military surgeon, who passed in the neighborhood for a very skillful practitioner.  He limped, having been wounded while in the service, and had to use a stick to assist him in walking.