“I saw that I had done well to keep silent. The lock is black. Master
must have used his gun since I cleaned it.”
Grandpapa Chandore and M. Folgat exchanged looks of distress. One more
hope was lost.
“Now,” said the young lawyer, “tell me how M. de Boiscoran usually
charged his gun.”
“He used cartridges, sir, of course. They sent him, I think, two
thousand with the gun,--some for balls, some with large shot, and others
with shot of every size. At this season, when hunting is prohibited,
master could shoot nothing but rabbits, or those little birds, you know,
which come to our marshes: so he always loaded one barrel with tolerably
large shot, and the other with small-shot.”
But he stopped suddenly, shocked at the impression which his statement
seemed to produce. Dionysia cried,--
“That is terrible! Every thing is against us!”