All the people interrogated, however, obstinately tried to impart to the magistrate their own convictions and personal conjectures.  Public opinion sided with Gevrol.  Every voice denounced the tall sunburnt man with the gray blouse.  He must surely be the culprit.  Everyone remembered his ferocious aspect, which had frightened the whole neighbourhood.  He had one evening menaced a woman, and another day beaten a child.  They could point out neither the child nor the woman; but no matter:  these brutal acts were notoriously public.  M. Daburon began to despair of gaining the least enlightenment, when some one brought the wife of a grocer of Bougival, at whose shop the victim used to deal, and a child thirteen years old, who knew, it was said, something positive.

The grocer’s wife first made her appearance.  She had heard Widow Lerouge speak of having a son still living.

“Are you quite sure of that?” asked the investigating magistrate.

“As of my existence,” answered the woman, “for, on that evening, yes, it was evening, she was, saving your presence, a little tipsy.  She remained in my shop more than an hour.”

“And what did she say?”

“I think I see her now,” continued the shopkeeper:  “she was leaning against the counter near the scales, jesting with a fisherman of Marly, old Husson, who can tell you the same; and she called him a fresh water sailor.  ‘My husband,’ said she, ’was a real sailor, and the proof is, he would sometimes remain years on a voyage, and always used to bring me back cocoanuts.  I have a son who is also a sailor, like his dead father, in the imperial navy.’”

“Did she mention her son’s name?”

“Not that time, but another evening, when she was, if I may say so, very drunk.  She told us that her son’s name was Jacques, and that she had not seen him for a very long time.”

“Did she speak ill of her husband?”

“Never!  She only said he was jealous and brutal, though a good man at bottom, and that he led her a miserable life.  He was weak-headed, and forged ideas out of nothing at all.  In fact he was too honest to be wise.”

“Did her son ever come to see her while she lived here?”

“She never told me of it.”

“Did she spend much money with you?”

“That depends.  About sixty francs a month; sometimes more, for she always buys the best brandy.  She paid cash for all she bought.”

The woman knowing no more was dismissed.  The child, who was now brought forward, belonged to parents in easy circumstances.  Tall and strong for his age, he had bright intelligent eyes, and features expressive of watchfulness and cunning.  The presence of the magistrate did not seem to intimidate him in the least.

“Let us hear, my boy,” said M. Daburon, “what you know.”

“Well, sir, a few days ago, on Sunday last, I saw a man at Madame Lerouge’s garden-gate.”

“At what time of the day?”