'We never hears anything,' one of them replied in a thick country accent. 'We hears nothing so Sir Peter bangs on the door.'

'And then what?'

Lecroix pulled himself out of his reverie. 'I woke up,' he muttered. 'You see, sir, I am a heavy sleeper.'

'More like a heavy drinker!' snapped Maigret.

'I had drunk deeply,' Lecroix cried, 'but I was tired!'

Corbett watched him carefully. He noticed the man's flickering eyes, the drool of saliva down his tangled beard. This man is not full in his wits, he thought, the mind of a child in the body of a man.

'Master Lecroix,' he said softly, 'no one is accusing you. Just tell me what happened.'

'I was asleep on the trestle bed on the other side of the chamber. I always sleep there. Sir Peter's loud knocking woke me up and made my head even more sore. I went across to Sir Eustace's bed to pull back the heavy drapes. He was just lying there.' Lecroix's lower lip began to tremble and his eyes filled with tears.

'Continue,' Corbett said quietly.

'I knew there was something wrong. My master's body was twisted, his face turned to one side and his mouth open. His eyes were staring. They reminded me of a dog I had seen crushed by a cart.' Lecroix put his head in his hands. 'Sir Peter was still knocking and my head was hurting so I went and unlocked the door.'

'And you went in, Sir Peter?' Corbett asked.

'We all did,' the sheriff explained. 'I sent one of the guards here down to the hall. Naylor, Roteboeuf, and of course Physician Maigret joined me.'

'When I went in,' Maigret explained, 'Lecroix was kneeling by the bed weeping.' He patted the servant on the shoulder. 'He was devoted to his master. One of the bed curtains had been pulled aside and it was as Lecroix has described; Sir Eustace lay sprawled as if he had suffered some dreadful seizure. By the appearance of his skin, his eyes and mouth, I immediately concluded he was poisoned.'