"Summon the good woman," he exclaimed, "who saw the murder done. By St. Firmin, if she says one of us is the man, then to the wheel with us! Also call the watch at the southern gate; if he in turn says that we did not pass through ere midnight--I hear the excellent female places the assassination after the first quarter past the hour had struck--then, I say, to the wheel with us! _Sacré nom d'un chien!_ were ever gentlemen treated thus before? _Sacré mille tonnerres_, is this France in which we are?" The woman was summoned, and instantly replied, "No, neither of the messieurs before her was the man. No resemblance whatever. She was certain. That face she could never forget. It was a devil's. On her most sacred oath, neither were concerned in the awful scene." The watchmen at the gate affirmed that both men passed out before midnight struck--the hour for the gate to close on _fête_-days. There was no possibility of his being mistaken--one, the big man, swore at him for having half closed the gate, thinking the last person had gone through for that night; the other insulted him and jeered at him, and flung a sou at his feet. "So," said the old Procureur du Roi, "you seem free of this crime. Yet, I misdoubt me but you are the lawful prey of the gibbet. The sergeant heard you speaking of your plunder. That you have stolen the jewellery no one can doubt----" "Produce the owner," interrupted D'Aunay, on whom a clear light had now dawned. "We ask nothing but that." "Also you swear by St. Firmin. He is a saint of Picardy, not of the south of France." "It would be strange if I did not swear by him. In the few hours we were here we heard everyone we met swear terribly by him. He must, indeed, be a saint of Picardy--_surtôut_ of Amiens." "Also," went on the judge, "you spoke truth when you said you had been to the theatre and to the Cathedral----" "Naturally, monsieur. It is ever my habit. To shun the truth is impossible to me." "But your actions were suspicious. Both at the theatre and the cathedral you were observed to place yourselves, to force yourselves, nearest to those who presented the appearance of greatest wealth----" "_Finissons!_" roared D'Aunay now in virtuous indignation. "Enough. Produce more tangible reasons for this detention, these insults, or release us. Your charges have all fallen to the ground; you now begin a fresh one equally baseless. Yet, because I love justice and respect the law--its administrators I cannot always respect--if anyone has been robbed at either theatre or church, bring them forward, and we will meet that charge too." "You will be released," said the Procureur; "you are now free. But the jewellery will be retained for the present. Later on it may be returned to you."