"
"Yes," said Chauvelin, with eager impatience, "she had shoved off
some time ago, you said, and the nearest creek is a mile further on."
"Yes, citoyen! I ran all the way, straight to the beach,
though I guessed the boat would have waited somewhere near the creek,
as the tide would reach there earliest. The boat must have shoved off
some minutes before the woman began to scream."
"Bring the light in here!" he commanded eagerly, as he once
more entered the hut.
The sergeant brought his lantern, and together the two men
explored the little place: with a rapid glance Chauvelin noted its
contents: the cauldron placed close under an aperture in the wall, and
containing the last few dying embers of burned charcoal, a couple of
stools, overturned as if in the haste of sudden departure, then the
fisherman's tools and his nets lying in one corner, and beside them,
something small and white.
"Pick that up," said Chauvelin to the sergeant, pointing to
this white scrap, "and bring it to me."
It was a crumpled piece of paper, evidently forgotten there by
the fugitives, in their hurry to get away. The sergeant, much awed by
the citoyen's obvious rage and impatience, picked the paper up and
handed it respectfully to Chauvelin.
Pages:
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385