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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Come, you must acknowledge that we are on the right track now it is one of the police," M. Durant said to his friend. But M. Hersant only shook his head. "I acknowledge nothing of the sort," he said. "Come with me to the mill-house to-night, and I will then tell you what I think." To this proposition M. Durant willingly agreed, and, accompanied by his friend and the village priest, set off.
It was midnight, and an impressive silence fell on the trio. Then there came a noise like the flutterings of wings, a loud, blood-curdling scream, half human and half animal, and a huge black owl, whirling down from the roof of the building, perched in the circle directly in front of M. Hersant. "Pray, Father! Pray quickly," M. Hersant whispered.
M. Durant enquired. "I prefer not to say at present," M. Hersant replied. "I should like to see the spot where this body was found now." "We will go there at once," M. Durant rejoined. The scene of the tragedy was the Orenburg road, at the foot of two little hills; and on either side were the sloping fields, yellow with the nodding corn.
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