interest: "To-day, at two o'clock, I was crossing
the bridge La Guillotière, at Lyons, when a man
I had not before observed, but who must have
been following me, plucked my dress and asked
if I could tell him in what street the Servants'
Office was situated? I mentioned two, adding
that I was myself about to visit the latter. He
asked if I were in search of a place? 'Yes.'
'Then,' said he, 'I have exactly the thing to suit
you. I am gardener at a château near Montlael,
and my mistress has sent me to Lyons with
positive orders to bring back a house-servant,
cost what it may.' He enumerated the advantages
I should enjoy, and said that the work
would be very light, and the wages two hundred
and fifty francs, besides many Christmas-boxes.
A married daughter of his mistress paid her
frequent visits, and always left five francs on
the mantelpiece for the maid. He added, that
I should be expected to attend mass regularly.

"The appearance, language, and manner of
the man gave me so strong an impression of
good faith, that, without a minute's hesitation,
I accepted his offer, and we accordingly left by
the train, which arrived at Montlael about nightfall—
half-past seven. Placing my trunk upon
his shoulder he desired me to follow, saying we
had now a walk of an hour and a half, but that,
by taking cross paths, we should quickly reach
our destination. I carried, in one hand, a little
box: in the other, my basket and umbrella.
We crossed the railway and walked for some
distance along the parallel road, when the man
turned suddenly to the left and led me down a
steep descent, skirted on both sides by thick
bushes. Presently he faced round, saying that
my trunk fatigued him, that he would conceal
it in a thicket and come back for it with a
carriage on the morrow. We then abandoned the
path altogether, crossed several fields, and came
to a coppice, in which he hid the trunk, saying
we should presently see the château. After this,
we traversed other fields, twice crossing over
places that looked like dried-up water-courses,
and, finally, through very difficult ways, rather
scrambling than walking, arrived at the summit
of a little hill.

"I must mention something that had
attracted my attention. Throughout the walk
my guide seemed remarkably attentive,
constantly cautioning me to mind my steps, and
assisting me carefully over every obstacle.
Immediately after crossing the hill I spoke of, his
movements began to give me uneasiness. In passing
some vines he tried to pull up a large stake.
It, however, resisted his efforts, and, as I was
following close on his heels, he did not persevere.
A little farther, he stooped down and seemed
to be endeavouring to pick up one of the large
stones that lay about. Though now seriously
alarmed, I asked, with all the indifference I
could command, what he was looking for? He
made an unintelligible reply, and presently
repeated the manœuvre. Again I inquired what
he was looking for,—Had he lost anything?
'Nothing, nothing,' he replied; 'it was only a
plant I meant to pick for my garden.' Other
singular movements kept me in a state of feverish
alarm. I observed that he several times lagged
behind, and, whenever he did so, moved his
hands about under his blouse as though in search
of a weapon. I was frozen with terror. Run
away I durst not, for I felt he would pursue
me; but I constantly urged him to lead the
way, assuring him I would follow.

"In this way we reached the top of another
small hill, on which stood a half-built cottage.
There was a cabbage-garden, and a good wheelroad.
My very fear now gave me the necessary
courage. I resolved to go no farther, and at once
said, 'I see you have led me wrong. I shall stop
here.' Hardly had the words left my mouth,
when he turned sharply round, stretched his arms
above my head, and let fall a cord with a
running noose. We were at this moment almost
in contact. Instinctively, I let fall everything
I carried, and with both hands seized the man's
two arms, pushing him from me with all my
strength. This movement saved me. The
cord, which was already round my head, only
caught and pulled off my cap. I shrieked out,
'My God! my God! I am lost!'

"I was too much agitated to observe why
the assassin did not repeat his attack. All I
recollect is, that the cord was still in his hand.
I caught up my box and umbrella, and flew
down the hill. In crossing a little ditch, I fell
and bruised myself severely, losing my umbrella.
Fear, however, gave me strength. I heard the
heavy steps of the murderer in pursuit, and was
on my legs again in an instant, running for life.
At that moment, the moon rose above the trees
on my left, and I saw the glimmer of a white
house on the plain. Towards this I flew, crossing
the railway, and falling repeatedly in my
headlong course. Soon I saw lights. It was
Balan. I stopped at the first house. A man
ran out, and I was saved."

Such was Marie Pichon's narrative. The
authorities, now fully aroused, at once commenced a
searching inquiry. Ultimately, the eye of justice
rested on a certain small house in the little
hamlet of Du Mollard. Village-gossip spoke
unreservedly of the skulking nocturnal habits
of its master—the stern, unsocial manners of
his wife. Their name was the same as the
village, Dumollard: a very common name in
that district. The man had a peculiar scar or
tumour on his upper lip.

The magistrates at once waited upon
Dumollard, and requested an explanation of the
employment of his time, on the day and night of
the twenty-sixth of May. The answers being
evasive, and certain articles in the house wearing
a very suspicious look, Dumollard was given
into custody, conveyed to Trevoux, and
instantly identified by Marie Pichon as her
assailant. Meanwhile, a search in his house
resulted in the discovery of an immense
accumulation of articles, evidently the produce
of plunder—clothes, linen, pieces of lace,
ribbons, gowns, handkerchiefs, shoes—in a word,
every species of article that might have belonged
to girls of the servant class. Very many of