“How was M. de Boiscoran dressed?”

“Stop.  He had grayish trousers on, a shooting-jacket of brown velveteen, and a broad-brimmed panama hat.”

The count and the countess looked distressed and almost overcome; nor did the mayor and his friend seem to be less troubled.  One circumstance in Ribot’s evidence seemed to have struck them with peculiar force,—­the fact that he had seen M. de Boiscoran push his trousers inside his boots.

“You can go,” said M. Galpin to the young man.  “Let another witness come in.”

The next one was an old man of bad reputation, who lived alone in an old hut two miles from Valpinson.  He was called Father Gaudry.  Unlike young Ribot, who had shown great assurance, the old man looked humble and cringing in his dirty, ill-smelling rags.  After having given his name, he said,—­

“It might have been eleven o’clock at night, and I was going through the forest of Rochepommier, along one of the little by-paths”—­

“You were stealing wood!” said the magistrate sternly.

“Great God, what an idea!” cried the old man, raising his hands to heaven.  “How can you say such a thing!  I steal wood!  No, my dear sir, I was very quietly going to sleep in the forest, so as to be up with daylight, and gather champignons and other mushrooms to sell at Sauveterre.  Well, I was trotting along, when, all of a sudden, I hear footsteps behind me.  Naturally, I was frightened.”

“Because you were stealing!”

“Oh, no! my dear sir; only, at night, you understand.  Well, I hid behind a tree; and almost at the same moment I saw M. de Boiscoran pass by.  I recognized him perfectly in spite of the dark; for he seemed to be in a great rage, talked loud to himself, swore, gesticulated, and tore handfuls of leaves from the branches.”

“Did he have a gun?”

“Yes, my dear sir; for that was the very thing that frightened me so.  I thought he was a keeper.”

The third and last witness was a good old woman, Mrs. Courtois, whose little farm lay on the other side of the forest of Rochepommier.  When she was asked, she hesitated a moment, and then she said,—­

“I do not know much; but I will tell you all I do know.  As we expected to have a house full of workmen a few days hence, and as I was going to bake bread to-morrow, I was going with my ass to the mill on Sauveterre Mountain to fetch flour.  The miller had not any ready; but he told me, if I could wait, he would let me have some:  and so I staid to supper.  About ten o’clock, they gave me a bag full of flour.  The boys put it on my ass, and I went home.  I was about half-way, and it was, perhaps, eleven o’clock, when, just at the edge of the forest of Rochepommier, my ass stumbled, and the bag fell off.  I had a great deal of trouble, for I was not strong enough to lift it alone; and just then a man came out of the woods, quite near me.  I called to him, and he came.  It was M. de Boiscoran:  I ask him to help me; and at once, without losing a moment, he puts his gun down, lifts the bag from the ground, and puts it on my ass.  I thank him.  He says, ‘Welcome,’ and—­that is all.”