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Updated: May 13, 2025
Up stream, there was the ferry-boat at La Mailleraie, a large, but lonely market-town, lying well off the main road. By midnight, Isidore had covered the thirty-five or forty miles to La Mailleraie and was knocking at the door of an inn by the waterside. He slept there and, in the morning, questioned the ferrymen. They consulted the counterfoils in the traffic-book.
"And that, once there, you will marry him." "I swear." He spoke a few words in her ear. "Ah!" she said. "May Heaven bless you for it!" Hortense took her seat in front, with Renine, who sat at the wheel. The inspector, hat in hand, fussed around the car until it moved off. They drove through the forest, crossed the Seine at La Mailleraie and struck into the Havre-Rouen road.
"Oh, I knew it at once. It belonged to Master Vatinel, the carter." "And where does he live?" "At Louvetot." Beautrelet consulted his military map. The hamlet of Louvetot lay where the highroad between Yvetot and Caudebec was crossed by a little winding road that ran through the woods to La Mailleraie.
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