M. Langernault had his letters addressed poste restante at Alençon.
Don Luis and Mazeroux went on to the village of Damigni. Here again the postmaster knew no one of the name of Langernault; and this in spite of the fact that Damigni contained only about a thousand inhabitants.
"Let's go and call on the mayor," said Perenna.
At the mayor's Mazeroux stated who he was and mentioned the object of his visit. The mayor nodded his head.
"Old Langernault? I should think so. A decent fellow: used to run a business in the town."
"And accustomed, I suppose, to fetch his letters at Alençon post-office?"
"That's it, every day, for the sake of the walk."
"And his house?"
"Is at the end of the village. You passed it as you came along."
"Can we see it?"
"Well, of course … only"
"Perhaps he's not at home?"
"Certainly not! The poor, dear man hasn't even set foot in the house since he left it the last time, four years ago!"
"How is that?"
"Why, he's been dead these four years!"
Don Luis and Mazeroux exchanged a glance of amazement.
"So he's dead?" said Don Luis.
"Yes, a gunshot."
"What's that!" cried Perenna. "Was he murdered?"
"No, no. They thought so at first, when they picked
