seen the men’s heads turn after her as she goes down the street. Besides, lately she has had more money to spend—all the town knows it. The little economies, they are at an end.” And Françoise shook her head with an air of unalterable certainty.
M. Hautet stroked his beard reflectively.
“And Madame Renauld?” he asked at length. “How did she take this—friendship?”
Françoise 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. Style anglais, without doubt!”
I bounded indignantly in my seat, but the examining magistrate was continuing his questions, undistracted by side issues.
“You say that M. 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 good night, and shut the door after her.”
“What time was that?”
“About twenty-five minutes after ten, monsieur.”
“Do you know when M. 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 down.”
“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?”
22
