"I see," pursued M. Daburon, "that you have concealed something from us.
Don't you know that the police know everything?"
"Pardon! sir," cried the boy, bursting into tears,--"pardon. Don't
punish me, and I will never do so again."
"Tell us, then, how you have deceived us?"
"Well, sir, it was not ten sous that the man gave me, it was twenty
sous. I only gave half to mamma; and I kept the rest to buy marbles
with."
"My little friend," said the investigating magistrate, "for this time I
forgive you. But let it be a lesson for the remainder of your life. You
may go now, and remember it is useless to try and hide the truth; it
always comes to light!"
CHAPTER II.
The two last depositions awakened in M. Daburon's mind some slight
gleams of hope. In the midst of darkness, the humblest rush-light
acquires brilliancy.
"I will go at once to Bougival, sir, if you approve of this step,"
suggested Gevrol.
"Perhaps you would do well to wait a little," answered M. Daburon. "This
man was seen on Sunday morning; we will inquire into Widow Lerouge's
movements on that day."
Three neighbours were called. They all declared that the widow had
kept her bed all Sunday.
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