"
"We were coming to help!" they whined.
"If we could only lay hands on the murderer, he'd never taste bread
again!" the woman gurgled between her sobs.
As before we were unable to get two connecting thoughts out of them.
They persisted in their denials and swore, by heaven and all the
saints, that they were in bed when they heard the sound of the
revolver shot.
"It was not one, but two shots that were fired!--You see, you are
lying. If you had heard one, you would have heard the other."
"Mon Dieu! Monsieur--it was the second shot we heard. We were
asleep when the first shot was fired."
"Two shots were fired," said Daddy Jacques. "I am certain that all
the cartridges were in my revolver. We found afterward that two
had been exploded, and we heard two shots behind the door. Was not
that so, Monsieur Stangerson?"
"Yes," replied the Professor, "there were two shots, one dull, and
the other sharp and ringing."
"Why do you persist in lying?" cried Monsieur de Marquet, turning
to the concierges. "Do you think the police are the fools you are?
Everything points to the fact that you were out of doors and near
the pavilion at the time of the tragedy.
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