She was very much wrought up on the day of the murder. At eleven o'clock, after going out for news, she had prepared monsieur's dinner; but he did not appear. She waited one, two hours, five hours, keeping her water boiling for the eggs; no monsieur. She wanted to send Louis to look for him, but Louis being a poor talker and not curious, asked her to go herself. The house was besieged by the female neighbors, who, thinking that Mme. Petit ought to be well posted, came for news; no news to give. Toward five o'clock, giving up all thought of breakfast, she began to prepare for dinner. But when the village bell struck eight o'clock, monsieur had not made his appearance. At nine, the good woman was beside herself, and began to scold Louis, who had just come in from watering the garden, and, seated at the kitchen table, was soberly eating a plate of soup. The bell rung. "Ah, there's monsieur, at last." No, it was not monsieur, but a little boy, whom M. Plantat had sent from Valfeuillu to apprise Mme. Petit that he would soon return, bringing with him two guests who would dine and sleep at the house. The worthy woman nearly fainted. It was the first time that M. Plantat had invited anyone to dinner for five years. There was some mystery at the bottom of it--so thought Mme. Petit, and her anger doubled with her curiosity. "To order a dinner at this hour," she grumbled. "Has he got common-sense, then?" But reflecting that time pressed, she continued: "Go along, Louis; this is not the moment for two feet to stay in one shoe. Hurry up, and wring three chickens' heads; see if there ain't some ripe grapes in the conservatory; bring on some preserves; fetch some wine from the cellar!" The dinner was well advanced when the bell rung again. This time Baptiste appeared, in exceeding bad humor, bearing M. Lecoq's night-gown. "See here," said he to the cook, "what the person, who is with your master, gave me to bring here." "What person?" "How do I know? He's a spy sent down from Paris about this Valfeuillu affair; not much good, probably--ill-bred--a brute--and a wretch." "But he's not alone with monsieur?" "No; Doctor Gendron is with them." Mme. Petit burned to get some news out of Baptiste; but Baptiste also burned to get back and know what was taking place at his master's--so off he went, without having left any news behind.