On the way, he inquired about the news, asked the
_commissaire's_ advice, and solicited his orders, while his superior
questioned, meditated, and issued commands.
We had just come in sight of the first houses of the city, when we heard
shrieks issue from one of them. The street was blocked by an excited
crowd, and several persons rushed up to the _commissaire_ and exclaimed:
"Come, come quickly, Monsieur, they're having a fight! Two women are
being killed!"
"By whom?"
"We don't know."
"Why?"
"They are bleeding."
"But with what?"
"With a rake."
"Where's the murderer?"
"One on the head and the other on the arm. Go in, they're waiting for
you; the women are there."
So the _commissaire_ went in and we followed. We heard sobs, screams,
and excited conversation and saw a jostling, curious mob. People stepped
on one another's toes, dug one another's ribs, cursed, and caused
general confusion.
The _commissaire_ got angry; but as he could not speak Breton, the
_garde_ got angry for him and chased the crowd out, taking each
individual by his shoulders and shoving him through the door into the
street.
When the room had been cleared of all except a dozen persons, we managed
to discover in a corner, a piece of flesh hanging from an arm and a mass
of black hair dripping with blood.
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