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It was market day and over all the roads round Goderville the peasants and their wives were coming towards the town.
Hauchecorne, will you have the kindness to come with me to the mayors office? M. le maire would like to speak to you. you were seen this morning to pick up a the mayors lost pocket book on Buezeville road. Malandain the harness maker saw you.
Hauchecorne from Breaute had just arrived at Goderville, and was taking his way towards the square, when he perceived on the ground, a piece of string.
He took the bit of thin cord from the ground, and was carefully preparing to roll it up when he saw Malandain, the harness maker, on his door step, looking at him.
I, I picked up the pocket book? i swear i didnt even know anything about it at all. he saw me picking up this string thats all.
then he began anew to tell about his adventure lengthening his recital everyday
he died in early janruary, and, in the delirium of death and agony he protested his innocence repeating "a littl ebit of string, a little bit of string-- see here it is."
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