The mayor turned round, and, after having exchanged glances with M. Daubigeon, he said to the magistrate,—­

“They are bringing you some more witnesses, sir.”

No doubt M. Galpin was little pleased at the interruption; but he knew the people well enough to bear in mind, that, unless he took them at the moment when they were willing to talk, he might never be able to get any thing out of them at any other time.

“We shall return some other time to our conversation,” he said to Count Claudieuse.

Then, replying to M. Seneschal, he said,—­

“Let the witnesses come in, but one by one.”

The first who entered was the only son of a well-to-do farmer in the village of Brechy, called Ribot.  He was a young fellow of about twenty-five, broad-shouldered, with a very small head, a low brow, and formidable crimson ears.  For twenty miles all around, he was reputed to be an irresistible beau,—­a reputation of which he was very proud.  After having asked him his name, his first names, and his age, M. Galpin said,—­

“What do you know?”

The young man straightened himself, and with a marvellously conceited air, which set all the peasants a-laughing, he replied,—­

“I was out that night on some little private business of my own.  I was on the other side of the chateau of Boiscoran.  Somebody was waiting for me, and I was behind time:  so I cut right across the marsh.  I knew the rains of the last days would have filled all the ditches; but, when a man is out on such important business as mine was, he can always find his way”—­

“Spare us those tedious details,” said the magistrate coldly.  The handsome fellow looked surprised, rather than offended, by the interruption, and then went on,—­

“As your Honor desires.  Well, it was about eight o’clock, or a little more, and it was growing dark, when I reached the Seille swamps.  They were overflowing; and the water was two inches above the stones of the canal.  I asked myself how I should get across without spoiling my clothes, when I saw M. de Boiscoran coming towards me from the other side.”

“Are you quite sure it was he?”

“Why, I should think so!  I talked to him.  But stop, he was not afraid of getting wet.  Without much ado, he rolled up his trousers, stuffed them into the tops of his tall boots, and went right through.  Just then he saw me, and seemed to be surprised.  I was as much so as he was.  ’Why, is it you, sir?’ I said.  He replied ’Yes:  I have to see somebody at Brechy.’  That was very probably so; still I said again, ’But you have chosen a queer way.’  He laughed.  ’I did not know the swamps were overflowed,’ he answered, ‘and I thought I would shoot some snipes.’  As he said this, he showed me his gun.  At that moment I had nothing to say; but now, when I think it over, it looks queer to me.”

M. Galpin had written down the statement as fast as it was given.  Then he asked,—­