"My dear sir," he answered in his dictatorial tone, "if they are not
arrested it is because no one is aware that they have committed a
murder."
This reasoning did not appear to convince Grivet, and Camille came to
his assistance.
"I am of the opinion of M. Grivet," said he, with silly importance. "I
should like to believe that the police do their duty, and that I never
brush against a murderer on the pavement."
Olivier considered this remark a personal attack.
"Certainly the police do their duty," he exclaimed in a vexed tone.
"Still we cannot do what is impossible. There are wretches who have
studied crime at Satan's own school; they would escape the Divinity
Himself. Isn't that so, father?"
"Yes, yes," confirmed old Michaud. "Thus, while I was at Vernon--you
perhaps remember the incident, Madame Raquin--a wagoner was murdered
on the highway. The corpse was found cut in pieces, at the bottom of a
ditch. The authorities were never able to lay hands on the culprit. He
is perhaps still living at this hour. Maybe he is our neighbour, and
perhaps M. Grivet will meet him on his way home."
Grivet turned pale as a sheet. He dared not look round. He fancied the
murderer of the wagoner was behind him.
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