M. Hautet stroked his beard reflectively.

'And Madame Renauld?' he asked at length. 'How did she take this-friendship?'

Francoise shrugged her shoulders. 'She was always most amiable-most polite. One would say that she suspected nothing. But all the same, is it not so, the heart suffers, monsieur? Day by day, I have watched Madame grow paler and thinner. She was not the same woman who arrived here a month ago. Monsieur, too, has changed. He also has had his worries. One could see that he was on the brink of a crisis of the nerves. And who could wonder, with an affair conducted in such a fashion? No reticence, no discretion. Son les anglais without doubt!'

I bounded indignantly in my seat but the examining magistrate was continuing his questions, undistracted by side issues.

'You say that Monsieur Renauld had not to let Madame Daubreuil out? Had she left, then?'

'Yes, monsieur. I heard them come out of the study and go to the door. Monsieur said goodnight and shut the door after her.'

'What time was that?'

'About twenty-five minutes after ten monsieur.'

'Do you know when Monsieur Renauld went to bed?'

'I heard him come up about ten minutes after we did. The stair creaks so that one hears everyone who goes up and [missing].

'And that is all? You heard no sound of disturbance during the night?'

'Nothing whatever, monsieur.'

'Which of the servants came down the first in the morning?'

'I did, monsieur. At once I saw the door swinging open.'

'What about the other downstairs windows, were they all fastened?'

'Every one of them. There was nothing suspicious or out of place anywhere.'

'Good. Francoise, you can go.'

The old woman shuffled towards the door. On the threshold she looked back.

'I will tell you one thing, monsieur. That Madame Daubreuil she is a bad one! Oh, yes, one woman knows about another. She is a bad one, remember that.' And, shaking her head sagely, Francoise left the room.