He was so evidently right in reality, if not in form, that even M. Galpin gave way.

“It is merely as a matter of information that I request your opinion, sir,” he replied.  “Your real and carefully-considered professional opinion will, of course, be given in a special statement.”

“Ah, if that is the case!”

“Pray, inform me, then unofficially, what you think of the nature of the wounds of Count Claudieuse.”

Dr. Seignebos settled his spectacles ceremoniously on his nose, and then replied,—­

“My impression, so far as I am now able to judge, is that the count has stated the facts precisely as they were.  I am quite ready to believe that the murderer was lying in ambush behind one of the piles of wood, and at the distance which he has mentioned.  I am also able to affirm that the two shots were fired at different distances,—­one much nearer than the other.  The proof of it lies in the nature of the wounds, one of which, near the hip may be scientifically called”—­

“But we know at what distance a ball is spent,” broke in M. Seneschal, whom the doctor’s dogmatic tone began to annoy.

“Ah, do we know that, indeed?  You know it, M. Seneschal?  Well, I declare I do not know it.  To be sure, I bear in mind, what you seem to forget, that we have no longer, as in former days, only three or four kinds of guns.  Did you think of the immense variety of fire-arms, French and English, American and German, which are nowadays found in everybody’s hands?  Do you not see, you who have been a lawyer and a magistrate, that the whole legal question will be based upon this grave and all-important point?”

Thereupon the physician resumed his instruments, resolved to give no other answer, and was about to go to work once more when fearful cries were heard without; and the lawyers, the mayor, and the countess herself, rushed at once to the door.

These cries were, unfortunately, not uttered without cause.  The roof of the main building had just fallen in, burying under its ruins the poor drummer who had a few hours ago beaten the alarm, and one of the firemen, the most respected carpenter in Sauveterre, and a father of five children.

Capt.  Parenteau seemed to be maddened by this disaster; and all vied with each other in efforts to rescue the poor fellows, who were uttering shrieks of horror that rose high above the crash of falling timbers.  But all their endeavors were unavailing.  One of the gendarmes and a farmer, who had nearly succeeded in reaching the sufferers, barely escaped being burnt themselves, and were only rescued after having been dangerously injured.  Then only it seemed as if all became fully aware of the abominable crime committed by the incendiary.  Then only the clouds of smoke and the columns of fire, which rose high into the air, were accompanied by fierce cries of vengeance rising heavenwards.

“Death to the incendiary!  Death!”