He checked himself; all his followers so evidently shared his enthusiasm that a feeling of jealousy overtook him. He felt his prestige diminishing, and hastened to add:
"The idea had occurred to me; but I could not give the order without warning the scoundrel himself."
This remark was superfluous. All the men had gathered around the murderer. They surrounded him, and, after binding his feet and hands, they fastened him securely to a chair.
He offered no resistance. His wild excitement had given place to that gloomy prostration that follows all unnatural efforts, either of mind or of body. Evidently he had abandoned himself to his fate.
When Gevrol saw that the men had finished this task:
"Now," he commanded, "let us attend to the others; and light the lamps, for the fire is going out."
It was with the two men stretched out before the hearth that the inspector began his examination.
He questioned the beating of their hearts; their hearts no longer beat. He held the crystal of his watch close to their lips; the glass remained shining and clear.
"Useless," he murmured, after several trials, "useless; they are dead! They will never see morning again. Leave them in the same position until the arrival of the coroner, and let us look at the third."
The third man still breathed. He was a young man, wearing the uniform of a common soldier. He was unarmed, and his large gray cloak was partly open, revealing his bare chest.
They lifted him very carefully, for he groaned piteously at the slightest movement, and they placed him
