He started off at a trot; Gerfaut followed his example, stifling a sigh as he darted a last glance toward the chateau. They soon rejoined the cart which carried several of the hunters, and which Monsieur de Camier drove with the assurance of a professional coachman. There was a moment's silence, broken only by the trot of the horses and the sound of the wheels upon the level ground. "What the devil ails your dogs?" exclaimed Monsieur de Camier suddenly, as he turned to the Baron, who was riding behind him. "There they are all making for the river." Just at this moment the dogs, who could be seen in the distance, hurried to the water-side, in spite of all that their leader could do to prevent them. They almost disappeared behind the willows that bordered the river, and one could hear them barking furiously; their barks sounded like rage mingled with terror. "It is some duck that they have scented," observed the prosecutor. "They wouldn't bark like that," said Monsieur de Camier, with the sagacity of a professional hunter; "if it were a wolf, they could not make a greater uproar. Is it by chance some wild boar who is taking a bath, in order to receive us more ceremoniously?" He gave the horses a vigorous blow from the whip, and they all rapidly approached the spot where a scene was taking place which excited to the highest pitch everybody's curiosity. Before they reached the spot, the keeper, who had run after the dogs to call them together, came out of a thicket, waving his hat to stop the hunters, exclaiming: "A body! a body!" "A body! a drowned man!" he exclaimed, when the vehicle stopped. This time it was the public prosecutor who arose and jumped from the cart with the agility of a deer. "A drowned man!" said he. "In the name of the law, let nobody touch the body. Call back the dogs." As he said these words he hastened to the spot which the servant pointed out to him. Everybody dismounted and followed him. Octave and Bergenheim had exchanged strange glances when they heard the servant's words. It was, as the servant had announced, the battered body of a man, thrown by the current against the trunk of the tree, and there caught between two branches of the willow as if in a vise. "It is the carpenter!" exclaimed Monsieur de Camier as he parted the foliage, which had prevented the head from being seen until then, for he recognized the workman's livid, swollen features. "It is that poor devil of a Lambernier, is it not, Bergenheim?" "It is true!" stammered Christian, who, in spite of his boldness, could not help turning away his eyes. "The carpenter!--drowned!--this is frightful!--I never should have recognized him--how disfigured he is!" exclaimed the others, as they pressed forward to gaze at this horrible spectacle. "This is a sad way to escape justice," observed the notary, in a philosophical tone. The Baron seized this opening with avidity.