Do you know who that witness is that I've brought?"
"No; but tell me, my good M. Gevrol."
"Well, that fellow on the bench there, who is waiting for M. Daburon, is
the husband of the victim of the La Jonchere tragedy!"
"Is it possible?" exclaimed old Tabaret, perfectly astounded. Then,
after reflecting a moment, he added, "You are joking with me."
"No, upon my word. Go and ask him his name; he will tell you that it is
Pierre Lerouge."
"She wasn't a widow then?"
"It appears not," replied Gevrol sarcastically, "since there is her
happy spouse."
"Whew!" muttered the old fellow. "And does he know anything?"
In a few sentences, the chief of detectives related to his amateur
colleague the story that Lerouge was about to tell the investigating
magistrate.
"What do you say to that?" he asked when he came to the end.
"What do I say to that?" stammered old Tabaret, whose countenance
indicated intense astonishment; "what do I say to that? I don't say
anything. But I think,--no, I don't think anything either!"
"A slight surprise, eh?" said Gevrol, beaming.
"Say rather an immense one," replied Tabaret.
But suddenly he started, and gave his forehead a hard blow with his
fist.
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