The Red Collar Read Online Free PDF Page A

inherited a small property that she’s put out to a tenant farmer. It brings in a bit for her, and she makes wicker baskets. Oh, I was forgetting. She has a child.”
    â€œOf what sort of age?”
    â€œThree, I think.”
    â€œIs it Morlac’s?” Lantier couldn’t help asking.
    â€œNo one knows.”
    â€œBut he was at war . . . ”
    â€œHe came home on leave.”
    Lantier had almost finished his rabbit. What with the sauce and the heat, he was breaking out in a sweat. He unbuttoned his vest and mopped his face. The next few hours were going to be unbearable. It would be better to go back to the hotel, lie down and sleep.
    The attorney didn’t have much more to tell him but he wanted to be rewarded for these confidences with military secrets. He could have spared himself the trouble, though, because Lantier paid for his meal with a yawn, and took his leave without putting his jacket back on.

C HAPTER III
    B y the time the rabbit chasseur had settled, it was four o’clock in the afternoon and Lantier, still smeary-faced, left the hotel and headed for the prison. He now knew the town well enough to take the shortcut and get to the former barracks without doubling back on himself.
    At first he thought the dog had stopped barking. But that was because he was coming along a different street, at the back of the building. When he turned the corner, he heard it. It seemed to him the animal wasn’t howling so loudly. No doubt the exhaustion. The jailer told him that in three days the dog had only stopped once, during his own visit the day before.
    â€œDoes he bark at night too?”
    â€œAt night, too,” Dujeux confirmed, rubbing his eyes that were puffy with insomnia.
    â€œAnd haven’t people in the neighborhood said anything?”
    â€œFirst of all, not many people live around here. But also I think that, with all due respect to you, sir, people don’t view the military in a very good light in these parts. Of course, they say they’re proud of our marshals and they’re all praise for the soldiers. But they also remember the military police came to dig them out from their farms, and officers shooting those who weakened. You have to realize that for four years this prison was full of men going before court-martials because they’d tried to hide.”
    â€œAre you telling me people are siding with Morlac?”
    â€œNot with him in particular, but, you see, he’s the last prisoner. And this business with the dog, it’s softened everyone. At night I’ve seen shadows sneaking over to give the mutt food.”
    The officer asked to be shown into Morlac’s cell. This time the man was not asleep. He was dressed and reading, sitting on the floor to make the most of a ray of sunlight filled with dust motes that cut across the cell.
    â€œYou look as if you’ve calmed down. We can carry on, then.”
    Lantier sat in the same place as the day before, on one of the bedsteads.
    â€œSit yourself opposite me, would you.”
    The prisoner rose slowly, put his book down on the edge of the bed and sat down. In his civilian clothes he looked less like a lunatic visited in the hospital.
    â€œWhat are you reading? Can I see?”
    The officer leaned forward to take the book. It had worn corners, and the edges of the pages were curled. It must have been carted around in many a pocket and been caught in the rain several times.
    â€œVictor Hugo,
Han d’Islande
.”
    Lantier looked up and peered at the stubborn little peasant who sat before him. He thought he could see a smile on his lips. But the man immediately reverted to his sulky defendant’s expression with surly, staring eyes.
    â€œI thought you hadn’t been to school.”
    â€œThat’s my school,” Morlac replied, tilting his chin toward the book. “And the war, too.”
    The officer put the book down and wrote something in his notebook. He