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.
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