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- <head>
- <title>
- The Mystery of “The Yellow Room”, by Gaston Leroux
- </title>
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-
-Project Gutenberg's The Mystery of the “Yellow Room”, by Gaston Leroux
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: The Mystery of “The Yellow Room”
-
-Author: Gaston Leroux
-
-Release Date: November 25, 2008 [EBook #1685]
-Last Updated: November 10, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteers, and David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <h1>
- THE MYSTERY OF “THE YELLOW ROOM”
- </h1>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By Gaston Leroux
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <blockquote>
- <p class="toc">
- <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. In Which We Begin Not to Understand
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Appears
- for the First Time </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. “A Man Has Passed Like a Shadow
- Through the Blinds” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. “In the Bosom of Wild Nature” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Makes a
- Remark to Monsieur <br /> Robert Darzac Which Produces Its Little Effect
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. In the Heart of the Oak Grove </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. In Which Rouletabille Sets Out on
- an Expedition Under the Bed </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. The Examining Magistrate
- Questions Mademoiselle Stangerson </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. Reporter and Detective </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. “We Shall Have to Eat Red Meat—Now”
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. In Which Frederic Larsan Explains
- How the Murderer Was Able<br /> to Get Out of The “Yellow Room” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. Frederic Larsan’s Cane </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. “The Presbytery Has Lost Nothing
- of Its Charm, Nor the Garden<br /> Its Brightness” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. “I Expect the Assassin This
- Evening” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. The Trap </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. Strange Phenomenon of the
- Dissociation of Matter </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. The Inexplicable Gallery </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. Rouletabille Has Drawn a Circle
- Between the Two Bumps<br /> on His Forehead </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. Rouletabille Invites Me to
- Breakfast at the Donjon Inn </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. An Act of Mademoiselle Stangerson
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. On the Watch </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. The Incredible Body </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. The Double Scent </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. Rouletabille Knows the Two Halves
- of the Murderer </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. Rouletabille Goes on a Journey
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Is
- Awaited with Impatience </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. In Which Joseph Rouletabille
- Appears in All His Glory </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. In Which It Is Proved That One
- Does Not Always<br /> Think of Everything </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. The Mystery of Mademoiselle
- Stangerson </a>
- </p>
- </blockquote>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I. In Which We Begin Not to Understand
- </h2>
- <p>
- It is not without a certain emotion that I begin to recount here the
- extraordinary adventures of Joseph Rouletabille. Down to the present time
- he had so firmly opposed my doing it that I had come to despair of ever
- publishing the most curious of police stories of the past fifteen years. I
- had even imagined that the public would never know the whole truth of the
- prodigious case known as that of “The Yellow Room”, out of which grew so
- many mysterious, cruel, and sensational dramas, with which my friend was
- so closely mixed up, if, propos of a recent nomination of the illustrious
- Stangerson to the grade of grandcross of the Legion of Honour, an evening
- journal—in an article, miserable for its ignorance, or audacious for
- its perfidy—had not resuscitated a terrible adventure of which
- Joseph Rouletabille had told me he wished to be for ever forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Yellow Room”! Who now remembers this affair which caused so much ink to
- flow fifteen years ago? Events are so quickly forgotten in Paris. Has not
- the very name of the Nayves trial and the tragic history of the death of
- little Menaldo passed out of mind? And yet the public attention was so
- deeply interested in the details of the trial that the occurrence of a
- ministerial crisis was completely unnoticed at the time. Now The Yellow
- Room trial, which, preceded that of the Nayves by some years, made far
- more noise. The entire world hung for months over this obscure problem—the
- most obscure, it seems to me, that has ever challenged the perspicacity of
- our police or taxed the conscience of our judges. The solution of the
- problem baffled everybody who tried to find it. It was like a dramatic
- rebus with which old Europe and new America alike became fascinated. That
- is, in truth—I am permitted to say, because there cannot be any
- author’s vanity in all this, since I do nothing more than transcribe facts
- on which an exceptional documentation enables me to throw a new light—that
- is because, in truth, I do not know that, in the domain of reality or
- imagination, one can discover or recall to mind anything comparable, in
- its mystery, with the natural mystery of “The Yellow Room”.
- </p>
- <p>
- That which nobody could find out, Joseph Rouletabille, aged eighteen, then
- a reporter engaged on a leading journal, succeeded in discovering. But
- when, at the Assize Court, he brought in the key to the whole case, he did
- not tell the whole truth. He only allowed so much of it to appear as
- sufficed to ensure the acquittal of an innocent man. The reasons which he
- had for his reticence no longer exist. Better still, the time has come for
- my friend to speak out fully. You are going to know all; and, without
- further preamble, I am going to place before your eyes the problem of The
- Yellow Room as it was placed before the eyes of the entire world on the
- day following the enactment of the drama at the Chateau du Glandier.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the 25th of October, 1892, the following note appeared in the latest
- edition of the “Temps”:
- </p>
- <p>
- “A frightful crime has been committed at the Glandier, on the border of
- the forest of Sainte-Genevieve, above Epinay-sur-Orge, at the house of
- Professor Stangerson. On that night, while the master was working in his
- laboratory, an attempt was made to assassinate Mademoiselle Stangerson,
- who was sleeping in a chamber adjoining this laboratory. The doctors do
- not answer for the life of Mdlle. Stangerson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The impression made on Paris by this news may be easily imagined. Already,
- at that time, the learned world was deeply interested in the labours of
- Professor Stangerson and his daughter. These labours—the first that
- were attempted in radiography—served to open the way for Monsieur
- and Madame Curie to the discovery of radium. It was expected the Professor
- would shortly read to the Academy of Sciences a sensational paper on his
- new theory,—the Dissociation of Matter,—a theory destined to
- overthrow from its base the whole of official science, which based itself
- on the principle of the Conservation of Energy. On the following day, the
- newspapers were full of the tragedy. The “Matin,” among others, published
- the following article, entitled: “A Supernatural Crime”:
- </p>
- <p>
- “These are the only details,” wrote the anonymous writer in the “Matin”—“we
- have been able to obtain concerning the crime of the Chateau du Glandier.
- The state of despair in which Professor Stangerson is plunged, and the
- impossibility of getting any information from the lips of the victim, have
- rendered our investigations and those of justice so difficult that, at
- present, we cannot form the least idea of what has passed in The Yellow
- Room in which Mdlle. Stangerson, in her night-dress, was found lying on
- the floor in the agonies of death. We have, at least, been able to
- interview Daddy Jacques—as he is called in the country—a old
- servant in the Stangerson family. Daddy Jacques entered “The Yellow Room” at the
- same time as the Professor. This chamber adjoins the laboratory.
- Laboratory and Yellow Room are in a pavilion at the end of the park, about
- three hundred metres (a thousand feet) from the chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘It was half-past twelve at night,’ this honest old man told us, ‘and I
- was in the laboratory, where Monsieur Stangerson was still working, when
- the thing happened. I had been cleaning and putting instruments in order
- all the evening and was waiting for Monsieur Stangerson to go to bed.
- Mademoiselle Stangerson had worked with her father up to midnight; when
- the twelve strokes of midnight had sounded by the cuckoo-clock in the
- laboratory, she rose, kissed Monsieur Stangerson and bade him good-night.
- To me she said “bon soir, Daddy Jacques” as she passed into The Yellow
- Room. We heard her lock the door and shoot the bolt, so that I could not
- help laughing, and said to Monsieur: “There’s Mademoiselle double-locking
- herself in,—she must be afraid of the ‘Bete du bon Dieu!’” Monsieur
- did not even hear me, he was so deeply absorbed in what he was doing. Just
- then we heard the distant miawing of a cat. “Is that going to keep us
- awake all night?” I said to myself; for I must tell you, Monsieur, that,
- to the end of October, I live in an attic of the pavilion over The Yellow
- Room, so that Mademoiselle should not be left alone through the night in
- the lonely park. It was the fancy of Mademoiselle to spend the fine
- weather in the pavilion; no doubt, she found it more cheerful than the
- chateau and, for the four years it had been built, she had never failed to
- take up her lodging there in the spring. With the return of winter,
- Mademoiselle returns to the chateau, for there is no fireplace in The
- Yellow Room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘We were staying in the pavilion, then—Monsieur Stangerson and me.
- We made no noise. He was seated at his desk. As for me, I was sitting on a
- chair, having finished my work and, looking at him, I said to myself:
- “What a man!—what intelligence!—what knowledge!” I attach
- importance to the fact that we made no noise; for, because of that, the
- assassin certainly thought that we had left the place. And, suddenly,
- while the cuckoo was sounding the half after midnight, a desperate clamour
- broke out in “The Yellow Room”. It was the voice of Mademoiselle, crying
- “Murder!—murder!—help!” Immediately afterwards revolver shots
- rang out and there was a great noise of tables and furniture being thrown
- to the ground, as if in the course of a struggle, and again the voice of
- Mademoiselle calling, “Murder!—help!—Papa!—Papa!—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘You may be sure that we quickly sprang up and that Monsieur Stangerson
- and I threw ourselves upon the door. But alas! it was locked, fast locked,
- on the inside, by the care of Mademoiselle, as I have told you, with key
- and bolt. We tried to force it open, but it remained firm. Monsieur
- Stangerson was like a madman, and truly, it was enough to make him one,
- for we heard Mademoiselle still calling “Help!—help!” Monsieur
- Stangerson showered terrible blows on the door, and wept with rage and
- sobbed with despair and helplessness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘It was then that I had an inspiration. “The assassin must have entered
- by the window!” I cried;—“I will go to the window!” and I rushed
- from the pavilion and ran like one out of his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘The inspiration was that the window of “The Yellow Room” looks out in such
- a way that the park wall, which abuts on the pavilion, prevented my at
- once reaching the window. To get up to it one has first to go out of the
- park. I ran towards the gate and, on my way, met Bernier and his wife, the
- gate-keepers, who had been attracted by the pistol reports and by our
- cries. In a few words I told them what had happened, and directed the
- concierge to join Monsieur Stangerson with all speed, while his wife came
- with me to open the park gate. Five minutes later she and I were before
- the window of “The Yellow Room”.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘The moon was shining brightly and I saw clearly that no one had touched
- the window. Not only were the bars that protect it intact, but the blinds
- inside of them were drawn, as I had myself drawn them early in the
- evening, as I did every day, though Mademoiselle, knowing that I was tired
- from the heavy work I had been doing, had begged me not to trouble myself,
- but leave her to do it; and they were just as I had left them, fastened
- with an iron catch on the inside. The assassin, therefore, could not have
- passed either in or out that way; but neither could I get in.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘It was unfortunate,—enough to turn one’s brain! The door of the
- room locked on the inside and the blinds on the only window also fastened
- on the inside; and Mademoiselle still calling for help!—No! she had
- ceased to call. She was dead, perhaps. But I still heard her father, in
- the pavilion, trying to break down the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘With the concierge I hurried back to the pavilion. The door, in spite of
- the furious attempts of Monsieur Stangerson and Bernier to burst it open,
- was still holding firm; but at length, it gave way before our united
- efforts,—and then what a sight met our eyes! I should tell you that,
- behind us, the concierge held the laboratory lamp—a powerful lamp,
- that lit the whole chamber.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I must also tell you, monsieur, that “The Yellow Room” is a very small
- room. Mademoiselle had furnished it with a fairly large iron bedstead, a
- small table, a night-commode; a dressing-table, and two chairs. By the
- light of the big lamp we saw all at a glance. Mademoiselle, in her
- night-dress, was lying on the floor in the midst of the greatest disorder.
- Tables and chairs had been overthrown, showing that there had been a
- violent struggle. Mademoiselle had certainly been dragged from her bed.
- She was covered with blood and had terrible marks of finger-nails on her
- throat,—the flesh of her neck having been almost torn by the nails.
- From a wound on the right temple a stream of blood had run down and made a
- little pool on the floor. When Monsieur Stangerson saw his daughter in
- that state, he threw himself on his knees beside her, uttering a cry of
- despair. He ascertained that she still breathed. As to us, we searched for
- the wretch who had tried to kill our mistress, and I swear to you,
- monsieur, that, if we had found him, it would have gone hard with him!
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘But how to explain that he was not there, that he had already escaped?
- It passes all imagination!—Nobody under the bed, nobody behind the
- furniture!—All that we discovered were traces, blood-stained marks
- of a man’s large hand on the walls and on the door; a big handkerchief red
- with blood, without any initials, an old cap, and many fresh footmarks of
- a man on the floor,—footmarks of a man with large feet whose
- boot-soles had left a sort of sooty impression. How had this man got away?
- How had he vanished? Don’t forget, monsieur, that there is no chimney in
- “The Yellow Room”. He could not have escaped by the door, which is narrow,
- and on the threshold of which the concierge stood with the lamp, while her
- husband and I searched for him in every corner of the little room, where
- it is impossible for anyone to hide himself. The door, which had been
- forced open against the wall, could not conceal anything behind it, as we
- assured ourselves. By the window, still in every way secured, no flight
- had been possible. What then?—I began to believe in the Devil.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘But we discovered my revolver on the floor!—Yes, my revolver! Oh!
- that brought me back to the reality! The Devil would not have needed to
- steal my revolver to kill Mademoiselle. The man who had been there had
- first gone up to my attic and taken my revolver from the drawer where I
- kept it. We then ascertained, by counting the cartridges, that the
- assassin had fired two shots. Ah! it was fortunate for me that Monsieur
- Stangerson was in the laboratory when the affair took place and had seen
- with his own eyes that I was there with him; for otherwise, with this
- business of my revolver, I don’t know where we should have been,—I
- should now be under lock and bar. Justice wants no more to send a man to
- the scaffold!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- The editor of the “Matin” added to this interview the following lines:
- </p>
- <p>
- “We have, without interrupting him, allowed Daddy Jacques to recount to us
- roughly all he knows about the crime of “The Yellow Room”. We have
- reproduced it in his own words, only sparing the reader the continual
- lamentations with which he garnished his narrative. It is quite
- understood, Daddy Jacques, quite understood, that you are very fond of
- your masters; and you want them to know it, and never cease repeating it—especially
- since the discovery of your revolver. It is your right, and we see no harm
- in it. We should have liked to put some further questions to Daddy Jacques—Jacques—Louis
- Moustier—but the inquiry of the examining magistrate, which is being
- carried on at the chateau, makes it impossible for us to gain admission at
- the Glandier; and, as to the oak wood, it is guarded by a wide circle of
- policemen, who are jealously watching all traces that can lead to the
- pavilion, and that may perhaps lead to the discovery of the assassin. “We
- have also wished to question the concierges, but they are invisible.
- Finally, we have waited in a roadside inn, not far from the gate of the
- chateau, for the departure of Monsieur de Marquet, the magistrate of
- Corbeil. At half-past five we saw him and his clerk and, before he was
- able to enter his carriage, had an opportunity to ask him the following
- question:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Can you, Monsieur de Marquet, give us any information as to this affair,
- without inconvenience to the course of your inquiry?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘It is impossible for us to do it,’ replied Monsieur de Marquet. ‘I can
- only say that it is the strangest affair I have ever known. The more we
- think we know something, the further we are from knowing anything!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “We asked Monsieur de Marquet to be good enough to explain his last words;
- and this is what he said,—the importance of which no one will fail
- to recognise:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘If nothing is added to the material facts so far established, I fear
- that the mystery which surrounds the abominable crime of which
- Mademoiselle Stangerson has been the victim will never be brought to
- light; but it is to be hoped, for the sake of our human reason, that the
- examination of the walls, and of the ceiling of “The Yellow Room”—an
- examination which I shall to-morrow intrust to the builder who constructed
- the pavilion four years ago—will afford us the proof that may not
- discourage us. For the problem is this: we know by what way the assassin
- gained admission,—he entered by the door and hid himself under the
- bed, awaiting Mademoiselle Stangerson. But how did he leave? How did he
- escape? If no trap, no secret door, no hiding place, no opening of any
- sort is found; if the examination of the walls—even to the
- demolition of the pavilion—does not reveal any passage practicable—not
- only for a human being, but for any being whatsoever—if the ceiling
- shows no crack, if the floor hides no underground passage, one must really
- believe in the Devil, as Daddy Jacques says!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the anonymous writer in the “Matin” added in this article—which
- I have selected as the most interesting of all those that were published
- on the subject of this affair—that the examining magistrate appeared
- to place a peculiar significance to the last sentence: “One must really
- believe in the Devil, as Jacques says.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The article concluded with these lines: “We wanted to know what Daddy
- Jacques meant by the cry of the Bete Du Bon Dieu.” The landlord of the
- Donjon Inn explained to us that it is the particularly sinister cry which
- is uttered sometimes at night by the cat of an old woman,—Mother
- Angenoux, as she is called in the country. Mother Angenoux is a sort of
- saint, who lives in a hut in the heart of the forest, not far from the
- grotto of Sainte-Genevieve.
- </p>
- <p>
- ““The Yellow Room”, the Bete Du Bon Dieu, Mother Angenoux, the Devil,
- Sainte-Genevieve, Daddy Jacques,—here is a well entangled crime
- which the stroke of a pickaxe in the wall may disentangle for us
- to-morrow. Let us at least hope that, for the sake of our human reason, as
- the examining magistrate says. Meanwhile, it is expected that Mademoiselle
- Stangerson—who has not ceased to be delirious and only pronounces
- one word distinctly, ‘Murderer! Murderer!’—will not live through the
- night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In conclusion, and at a late hour, the same journal announced that the
- Chief of the Surete had telegraphed to the famous detective, Frederic
- Larsan, who had been sent to London for an affair of stolen securities, to
- return immediately to Paris.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Appears for the First Time
- </h2>
- <p>
- I remember as well as if it had occurred yesterday, the entry of young
- Rouletabille into my bedroom that morning. It was about eight o’clock and
- I was still in bed reading the article in the “Matin” relative to the
- Glandier crime.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, before going further, it is time that I present my friend to the
- reader.
- </p>
- <p>
- I first knew Joseph Rouletabille when he was a young reporter. At that
- time I was a beginner at the Bar and often met him in the corridors of
- examining magistrates, when I had gone to get a “permit to communicate”
- for the prison of Mazas, or for Saint-Lazare. He had, as they say, “a good
- nut.” He seemed to have taken his head—round as a bullet—out
- of a box of marbles, and it is from that, I think, that his comrades of
- the press—all determined billiard-players—had given him that
- nickname, which was to stick to him and be made illustrious by him. He was
- always as red as a tomato, now gay as a lark, now grave as a judge. How,
- while still so young—he was only sixteen and a half years old when I
- saw him for the first time—had he already won his way on the press?
- That was what everybody who came into contact with him might have asked,
- if they had not known his history. At the time of the affair of the woman
- cut in pieces in the Rue Oberskampf—another forgotten story—he
- had taken to one of the editors of the “Epoque,”—a paper then
- rivalling the “Matin” for information,—the left foot, which was
- missing from the basket in which the gruesome remains were discovered. For
- this left foot the police had been vainly searching for a week, and young
- Rouletabille had found it in a drain where nobody had thought of looking
- for it. To do that he had dressed himself as an extra sewer-man, one of a
- number engaged by the administration of the city of Paris, owing to an
- overflow of the Seine.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the editor-in-chief was in possession of the precious foot and
- informed as to the train of intelligent deductions the boy had been led to
- make, he was divided between the admiration he felt for such detective
- cunning in a brain of a lad of sixteen years, and delight at being able to
- exhibit, in the “morgue window” of his paper, the left foot of the Rue
- Oberskampf.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This foot,” he cried, “will make a great headline.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, when he had confided the gruesome packet to the medical lawyer
- attached to the journal, he asked the lad, who was shortly to become
- famous as Rouletabille, what he would expect to earn as a general reporter
- on the “Epoque”?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Two hundred francs a month,” the youngster replied modestly, hardly able
- to breathe from surprise at the proposal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall have two hundred and fifty,” said the editor-in-chief; “only
- you must tell everybody that you have been engaged on the paper for a
- month. Let it be quite understood that it was not you but the ‘Epoque’
- that discovered the left foot of the Rue Oberskampf. Here, my young
- friend, the man is nothing, the paper everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Having said this, he begged the new reporter to retire, but before the
- youth had reached the door he called him back to ask his name. The other
- replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Joseph Josephine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s not a name,” said the editor-in-chief, “but since you will not be
- required to sign what you write it is of no consequence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy-faced reporter speedily made himself many friends, for he was
- serviceable and gifted with a good humour that enchanted the most
- severe-tempered and disarmed the most zealous of his companions. At the
- Bar cafe, where the reporters assembled before going to any of the courts,
- or to the Prefecture, in search of their news of crime, he began to win a
- reputation as an unraveller of intricate and obscure affairs which found
- its way to the office of the Chief of the Surete. When a case was worth
- the trouble and Rouletabille—he had already been given his nickname—had
- been started on the scent by his editor-in-chief, he often got the better
- of the most famous detective.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was at the Bar cafe that I became intimately acquainted with him.
- Criminal lawyers and journalists are not enemies, the former need
- advertisement, the latter information. We chatted together, and I soon
- warmed towards him. His intelligence was so keen, and so original!—and
- he had a quality of thought such as I have never found in any other
- person.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some time after this I was put in charge of the law news of the “Cri du
- Boulevard.” My entry into journalism could not but strengthen the ties
- which united me to Rouletabille. After a while, my new friend being
- allowed to carry out an idea of a judicial correspondence column, which he
- was allowed to sign “Business,” in the “Epoque,” I was often able to
- furnish him with the legal information of which he stood in need.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nearly two years passed in this way, and the better I knew him, the more I
- learned to love him; for, in spite of his careless extravagance, I had
- discovered in him what was, considering his age, an extraordinary
- seriousness of mind. Accustomed as I was to seeing him gay and, indeed,
- often too gay, I would many times find him plunged in the deepest
- melancholy. I tried then to question him as to the cause of this change of
- humour, but each time he laughed and made me no answer. One day, having
- questioned him about his parents, of whom he never spoke, he left me,
- pretending not to have heard what I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- While things were in this state between us, the famous case of The Yellow
- Room took place. It was this case which was to rank him as the leading
- newspaper reporter, and to obtain for him the reputation of being the
- greatest detective in the world. It should not surprise us to find in the
- one man the perfection of two such lines of activity if we remember that
- the daily press was already beginning to transform itself and to become
- what it is to-day—the gazette of crime.
- </p>
- <p>
- Morose-minded people may complain of this; for myself I regard it a matter
- for congratulation. We can never have too many arms, public or private,
- against the criminal. To this some people may answer that, by continually
- publishing the details of crimes, the press ends by encouraging their
- commission. But then, with some people we can never do right.
- Rouletabille, as I have said, entered my room that morning of the 26th of
- October, 1892. He was looking redder than usual, and his eyes were bulging
- out of his head, as the phrase is, and altogether he appeared to be in a
- state of extreme excitement. He waved the “Matin” with a trembling hand,
- and cried:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my dear Sainclair,—have you read it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Glandier crime?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; “The Yellow Room”!—What do you think of it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think that it must have been the Devil or the Bete du Bon Dieu that
- committed the crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be serious!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I don’t much believe in murderers* who make their escape through
- walls of solid brick. I think Daddy Jacques did wrong to leave behind him
- the weapon with which the crime was committed and, as he occupied the
- attic immediately above Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room, the builder’s job
- ordered by the examining magistrate will give us the key of the enigma and
- it will not be long before we learn by what natural trap, or by what
- secret door, the old fellow was able to slip in and out, and return
- immediately to the laboratory to Monsieur Stangerson, without his absence
- being noticed. That, of course, is only an hypothesis.”
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- *Although the original English translation often uses the words
- “murder” and “murderer,” the reader may substitute “attack” and
- “attacker” since no murder is actually committed.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Rouletabille sat down in an armchair, lit his pipe, which he was never
- without, smoked for a few minutes in silence—no doubt to calm the
- excitement which, visibly, dominated him—and then replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Young man,” he said, in a tone the sad irony of which I will not attempt
- to render, “young man, you are a lawyer and I doubt not your ability to
- save the guilty from conviction; but if you were a magistrate on the
- bench, how easy it would be for you to condemn innocent persons!—You
- are really gifted, young man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He continued to smoke energetically, and then went on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “No trap will be found, and the mystery of “The Yellow Room” will become
- more and more mysterious. That’s why it interests me. The examining
- magistrate is right; nothing stranger than this crime has ever been
- known.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you any idea of the way by which the murderer escaped?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “None,” replied Rouletabille—“none, for the present. But I have an
- idea as to the revolver; the murderer did not use it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good Heavens! By whom, then, was it used?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—by Mademoiselle Stangerson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t understand,—or rather, I have never understood,” I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille shrugged his shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is there nothing in this article in the ‘Matin’ by which you were
- particularly struck?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing,—I have found the whole of the story it tells equally
- strange.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but—the locked door—with the key on the inside?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the only perfectly natural thing in the whole article.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really!—And the bolt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The bolt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, the bolt—also inside the room—a still further protection
- against entry? Mademoiselle Stangerson took quite extraordinary
- precautions! It is clear to me that she feared someone. That was why she
- took such precautions—even Daddy Jacques’s revolver—without
- telling him of it. No doubt she didn’t wish to alarm anybody, and least of
- all, her father. What she dreaded took place, and she defended herself.
- There was a struggle, and she used the revolver skilfully enough to wound
- the assassin in the hand—which explains the impression on the wall
- and on the door of the large, blood-stained hand of the man who was
- searching for a means of exit from the chamber. But she didn’t fire soon
- enough to avoid the terrible blow on the right temple.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then the wound on the temple was not done with the revolver?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The paper doesn’t say it was, and I don’t think it was; because logically
- it appears to me that the revolver was used by Mademoiselle Stangerson
- against the assassin. Now, what weapon did the murderer use? The blow on
- the temple seems to show that the murderer wished to stun Mademoiselle
- Stangerson,—after he had unsuccessfully tried to strangle her. He
- must have known that the attic was inhabited by Daddy Jacques, and that
- was one of the reasons, I think, why he must have used a quiet weapon,—a
- life-preserver, or a hammer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All that doesn’t explain how the murderer got out of “The Yellow Room”,” I
- observed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently,” replied Rouletabille, rising, “and that is what has to be
- explained. I am going to the Chateau du Glandier, and have come to see
- whether you will go with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I?—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my boy. I want you. The ‘Epoque’ has definitely entrusted this case
- to me, and I must clear it up as quickly as possible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But in what way can I be of any use to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Robert Darzac is at the Chateau du Glandier.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s true. His despair must be boundless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must have a talk with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille said it in a tone that surprised me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it because—you think there is something to be got out of him?” I
- asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That was all he would say. He retired to my sitting-room, begging me to
- dress quickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- I knew Monsieur Robert Darzac from having been of great service to him in
- a civil action, while I was acting as secretary to Maitre Barbet Delatour.
- Monsieur Robert Darzac, who was at that time about forty years of age, was
- a professor of physics at the Sorbonne. He was intimately acquainted with
- the Stangersons, and, after an assiduous seven years’ courtship of the
- daughter, had been on the point of marrying her. In spite of the fact that
- she has become, as the phrase goes, “a person of a certain age,” she was
- still remarkably good-looking. While I was dressing I called out to
- Rouletabille, who was impatiently moving about my sitting-room:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you any idea as to the murderer’s station in life?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he replied; “I think if he isn’t a man in society, he is, at least,
- a man belonging to the upper class. But that, again, is only an
- impression.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What has led you to form it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,—the greasy cap, the common handkerchief, and the marks of the
- rough boots on the floor,” he replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand,” I said; “murderers don’t leave traces behind them which
- tell the truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We shall make something out of you yet, my dear Sainclair,” concluded
- Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III. “A Man Has Passed Like a Shadow Through the Blinds”
- </h2>
- <p>
- Half an hour later Rouletabille and I were on the platform of the Orleans
- station, awaiting the departure of the train which was to take us to
- Epinay-sur-Orge.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the platform we found Monsieur de Marquet and his Registrar, who
- represented the Judicial Court of Corbeil. Monsieur Marquet had spent the
- night in Paris, attending the final rehearsal, at the Scala, of a little
- play of which he was the unknown author, signing himself simply “Castigat
- Ridendo.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet was beginning to be a “noble old gentleman.” Generally
- he was extremely polite and full of gay humour, and in all his life had
- had but one passion,—that of dramatic art. Throughout his
- magisterial career he was interested solely in cases capable of furnishing
- him with something in the nature of a drama. Though he might very well
- have aspired to the highest judicial positions, he had never really worked
- for anything but to win a success at the romantic Porte-Saint-Martin, or
- at the sombre Odeon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Because of the mystery which shrouded it, the case of “The Yellow Room” was
- certain to fascinate so theatrical a mind. It interested him enormously,
- and he threw himself into it, less as a magistrate eager to know the
- truth, than as an amateur of dramatic embroglios, tending wholly to
- mystery and intrigue, who dreads nothing so much as the explanatory final
- act.
- </p>
- <p>
- So that, at the moment of meeting him, I heard Monsieur de Marquet say to
- the Registrar with a sigh:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope, my dear Monsieur Maleine, this builder with his pickaxe will not
- destroy so fine a mystery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have no fear,” replied Monsieur Maleine, “his pickaxe may demolish the
- pavilion, perhaps, but it will leave our case intact. I have sounded the
- walls and examined the ceiling and floor and I know all about it. I am not
- to be deceived.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Having thus reassured his chief, Monsieur Maleine, with a discreet
- movement of the head, drew Monsieur de Marquet’s attention to us. The face
- of that gentleman clouded, and, as he saw Rouletabille approaching, hat in
- hand, he sprang into one of the empty carriages saying, half aloud to his
- Registrar, as he did so, “Above all, no journalists!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Maleine replied in the same tone, “I understand!” and then tried
- to prevent Rouletabille from entering the same compartment with the
- examining magistrate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me, gentlemen,—this compartment is reserved.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am a journalist, Monsieur, engaged on the ‘Epoque,’” said my young
- friend with a great show of gesture and politeness, “and I have a word or
- two to say to Monsieur de Marquet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur is very much engaged with the inquiry he has in hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! his inquiry, pray believe me, is absolutely a matter of indifference
- to me. I am no scavenger of odds and ends,” he went on, with infinite
- contempt in his lower lip, “I am a theatrical reporter; and this evening I
- shall have to give a little account of the play at the Scala.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get in, sir, please,” said the Registrar.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille was already in the compartment. I went in after him and
- seated myself by his side. The Registrar followed and closed the carriage
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet looked at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir,” Rouletabille began, “You must not be angry with Monsieur de
- Maleine. It is not with Monsieur de Marquet that I desire to have the
- honour of speaking, but with Monsieur ‘Castigat Ridendo.’ Permit me to
- congratulate you—personally, as well as the writer for the
- ‘Epoque.’” And Rouletabille, having first introduced me, introduced
- himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet, with a nervous gesture, caressed his beard into a
- point, and explained to Rouletabille, in a few words, that he was too
- modest an author to desire that the veil of his pseudonym should be
- publicly raised, and that he hoped the enthusiasm of the journalist for
- the dramatist’s work would not lead him to tell the public that Monsieur
- “Castigat Ridendo” and the examining magistrate of Corbeil were one and
- the same person.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The work of the dramatic author may interfere,” he said, after a slight
- hesitation, “with that of the magistrate, especially in a province where
- one’s labours are little more than routine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you may rely on my discretion!” cried Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- The train was in motion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We have started!” said the examining magistrate, surprised at seeing us
- still in the carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur,—truth has started,” said Rouletabile, smiling
- amiably,—“on its way to the Chateau du Glandier. A fine case,
- Monsieur de Marquet,—a fine case!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An obscure—incredible, unfathomable, inexplicable affair—and
- there is only one thing I fear, Monsieur Rouletabille,—that the
- journalists will be trying to explain it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- My friend felt this a rap on his knuckles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he said simply, “that is to be feared. They meddle in everything.
- As for my interest, monsieur, I only referred to it by mere chance,—the
- mere chance of finding myself in the same train with you, and in the same
- compartment of the same carriage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where are you going, then?” asked Monsieur de Marquet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To the Chateau du Glandier,” replied Rouletabille, without turning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll not get in, Monsieur Rouletabille!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you prevent me?” said my friend, already prepared to fight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not I!—I like the press and journalists too well to be in any way
- disagreeable to them; but Monsieur Stangerson has given orders for his
- door to be closed against everybody, and it is well guarded. Not a
- journalist was able to pass through the gate of the Glandier yesterday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet compressed his lips and seemed ready to relapse into
- obstinate silence. He only relaxed a little when Rouletabille no longer
- left him in ignorance of the fact that we were going to the Glandier for
- the purpose of shaking hands with an “old and intimate friend,” Monsieur
- Robert Darzac—a man whom Rouletabille had perhaps seen once in his
- life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor Robert!” continued the young reporter, “this dreadful affair may be
- his death,—he is so deeply in love with Mademoiselle Stangerson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His sufferings are truly painful to witness,” escaped like a regret from
- the lips of Monsieur de Marquet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is to be hoped that Mademoiselle Stangerson’s life will be saved.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us hope so. Her father told me yesterday that, if she does not
- recover, it will not be long before he joins her in the grave. What an
- incalculable loss to science his death would be!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The wound on her temple is serious, is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently; but, by a wonderful chance, it has not proved mortal. The blow
- was given with great force.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then it was not with the revolver she was wounded,” said Rouletabille,
- glancing at me in triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet appeared greatly embarrassed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t say anything—I don’t want to say anything—I will not
- say anything,” he said. And he turned towards his Registrar as if he no
- longer knew us.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Rouletabille was not to be so easily shaken off. He moved nearer to
- the examining magistrate and, drawing a copy of the “Matin” from his
- pocket, he showed it to him and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is one thing, Monsieur, which I may enquire of you without
- committing an indiscretion. You have, of course, seen the account given in
- the ‘Matin’? It is absurd, is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not in the slightest, Monsieur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! “The Yellow Room” has but one barred window—the bars of which
- have not been moved—and only one door, which had to be broken open—and
- the assassin was not found!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s so, monsieur,—that’s so. That’s how the matter stands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille said no more but plunged into thought. A quarter of an hour
- thus passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Coming back to himself again he said, addressing the magistrate:
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did Mademoiselle Stangerson wear her hair on that evening?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know,” replied Monsieur de Marquet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a very important point,” said Rouletabille. “Her hair was done up
- in bands, wasn’t it? I feel sure that on that evening, the evening of the
- crime, she had her hair arranged in bands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you are mistaken, Monsieur Rouletabille,” replied the magistrate;
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson that evening had her hair drawn up in a knot on
- the top of her head,—her usual way of arranging it—her
- forehead completely uncovered. I can assure you, for we have carefully
- examined the wound. There was no blood on the hair, and the arrangement of
- it has not been disturbed since the crime was committed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are sure! You are sure that, on the night of the crime, she had not
- her hair in bands?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite sure,” the magistrate continued, smiling, “because I remember the
- Doctor saying to me, while he was examining the wound, ‘It is a great pity
- Mademoiselle Stangerson was in the habit of drawing her hair back from her
- forehead. If she had worn it in bands, the blow she received on the temple
- would have been weakened.’ It seems strange to me that you should attach
- so much importance to this point.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! if she had not her hair in bands, I give it up,” said Rouletabille,
- with a despairing gesture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was the wound on her temple a bad one?” he asked presently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Terrible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With what weapon was it made?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a secret of the investigation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you found the weapon—whatever it was?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The magistrate did not answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the wound in the throat?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here the examining magistrate readily confirmed the decision of the doctor
- that, if the murderer had pressed her throat a few seconds longer,
- Mademoiselle Stangerson would have died of strangulation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The affair as reported in the ‘Matin,’” said Rouletabille eagerly, “seems
- to me more and more inexplicable. Can you tell me, Monsieur, how many
- openings there are in the pavilion? I mean doors and windows.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are five,” replied Monsieur de Marquet, after having coughed once
- or twice, but no longer resisting the desire he felt to talk of the whole
- of the incredible mystery of the affair he was investigating. “There are
- five, of which the door of the vestibule is the only entrance to the
- pavilion,—a door always automatically closed, which cannot be
- opened, either from the outer or inside, except with the two special keys
- which are never out of the possession of either Daddy Jacques or Monsieur
- Stangerson. Mademoiselle Stangerson had no need for one, since Daddy
- Jacques lodged in the pavilion and because, during the daytime, she never
- left her father. When they, all four, rushed into “The Yellow Room”, after
- breaking open the door of the laboratory, the door in the vestibule
- remained closed as usual and, of the two keys for opening it, Daddy
- Jacques had one in his pocket, and Monsieur Stangerson the other. As to
- the windows of the pavilion, there are four; the one window of The Yellow
- Room and those of the laboratory looking out on to the country; the window
- in the vestibule looking into the park.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is by that window that he escaped from the pavilion!” cried
- Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know that?” demanded Monsieur de Marquet, fixing a strange
- look on my young friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll see later how he got away from “The Yellow Room”,” replied
- Rouletabille, “but he must have left the pavilion by the vestibule
- window.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Once more,—how do you know that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How? Oh, the thing is simple enough! As soon as he found he could not
- escape by the door of the pavilion his only way out was by the window in
- the vestibule, unless he could pass through a grated window. The window of
- “The Yellow Room” is secured by iron bars, because it looks out upon the
- open country; the two windows of the laboratory have to be protected in
- like manner for the same reason. As the murderer got away, I conceive that
- he found a window that was not barred,—that of the vestibule, which
- opens on to the park,—that is to say, into the interior of the
- estate. There’s not much magic in all that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Monsieur de Marquet, “but what you have not guessed is that
- this single window in the vestibule, though it has no iron bars, has solid
- iron blinds. Now these iron blinds have remained fastened by their iron
- latch; and yet we have proof that the murderer made his escape from the
- pavilion by that window! Traces of blood on the inside wall and on the
- blinds as well as on the floor, and footmarks, of which I have taken the
- measurements, attest the fact that the murderer made his escape that way.
- But then, how did he do it, seeing that the blinds remained fastened on
- the inside? He passed through them like a shadow. But what is more
- bewildering than all is that it is impossible to form any idea as to how
- the murderer got out of “The Yellow Room”, or how he got across the
- laboratory to reach the vestibule! Ah, yes, Monsieur Rouletabille, it is
- altogether as you said, a fine case, the key to which will not be
- discovered for a long time, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You hope, Monsieur?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet corrected himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not hope so,—I think so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Could that window have been closed and refastened after the flight of the
- assassin?” asked Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is what occurred to me for a moment; but it would imply an
- accomplice or accomplices,—and I don’t see—”
- </p>
- <p>
- After a short silence he added:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah—if Mademoiselle Stangerson were only well enough to-day to be
- questioned!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille following up his thought, asked:
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the attic?—There must be some opening to that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; there is a window, or rather skylight, in it, which, as it looks out
- towards the country, Monsieur Stangerson has had barred, like the rest of
- the windows. These bars, as in the other windows, have remained intact,
- and the blinds, which naturally open inwards, have not been unfastened.
- For the rest, we have not discovered anything to lead us to suspect that
- the murderer had passed through the attic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It seems clear to you, then, Monsieur, that the murderer escaped—nobody
- knows how—by the window in the vestibule?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything goes to prove it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think so, too,” confessed Rouletabille gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a brief silence, he continued:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you have not found any traces of the murderer in the attic, such as
- the dirty footmarks similar to those on the floor of “The Yellow Room”, you
- must come to the conclusion that it was not he who stole Daddy Jacques’s
- revolver.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are no footmarks in the attic other than those of Daddy Jacques
- himself,” said the magistrate with a significant turn of his head. Then,
- after an apparent decision, he added: “Daddy Jacques was with Monsieur
- Stangerson in the laboratory—and it was lucky for him he was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then what part did his revolver play in the tragedy?—It seems very
- clear that this weapon did less harm to Mademoiselle Stangerson than it
- did to the murderer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The magistrate made no reply to this question, which doubtless embarrassed
- him. “Monsieur Stangerson,” he said, “tells us that the two bullets have
- been found in “The Yellow Room”, one embedded in the wall stained with the
- impression of a red hand—a man’s large hand—and the other in
- the ceiling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! oh! in the ceiling!” muttered Rouletabille. “In the ceiling! That’s
- very curious!—In the ceiling!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He puffed awhile in silence at his pipe, enveloping himself in the smoke.
- When we reached Savigny-sur-Orge, I had to tap him on the shoulder to
- arouse him from his dream and come out on to the platform of the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- There, the magistrate and his Registrar bowed to us, and by rapidly
- getting into a cab that was awaiting them, made us understand that they
- had seen enough of us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How long will it take to walk to the Chateau du Glandier?” Rouletabille
- asked one of the railway porters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An hour and a half or an hour and three quarters—easy walking,” the
- man replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille looked up at the sky and, no doubt, finding its appearance
- satisfactory, took my arm and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come on!—I need a walk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are things getting less entangled?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not a bit of it!” he said, “more entangled than ever! It’s true, I have
- an idea—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s that?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t tell you what it is just at present—it’s an idea involving
- the life or death of two persons at least.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think there were accomplices?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think it—”
- </p>
- <p>
- We fell into silence. Presently he went on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was a bit of luck, our falling in with that examining magistrate and
- his Registrar, eh? What did I tell you about that revolver?” His head was
- bent down, he had his hands in his pockets, and he was whistling. After a
- while I heard him murmur:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor woman!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it Mademoiselle Stangerson you are pitying?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; she’s a noble woman and worthy of being pitied!—a woman of a
- great, a very great character—I imagine—I imagine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know her then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all. I have never seen her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, then, do you say that she is a woman of great character?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because she bravely faced the murderer; because she courageously defended
- herself—and, above all, because of the bullet in the ceiling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked at Rouletabille and inwardly wondered whether he was not mocking
- me, or whether he had not suddenly gone out of his senses. But I saw that
- he had never been less inclined to laugh, and the brightness of his keenly
- intelligent eyes assured me that he retained all his reason. Then, too, I
- was used to his broken way of talking, which only left me puzzled as to
- his meaning, till, with a very few clear, rapidly uttered words, he would
- make the drift of his ideas clear to me, and I saw that what he had
- previously said, and which had appeared to me void of meaning, was so
- thoroughly logical that I could not understand how it was I had not
- understood him sooner.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV. “In the Bosom of Wild Nature”
- </h2>
- <p>
- The Chateau du Glandier is one of the oldest chateaux in the Ile de
- France, where so many building remains of the feudal period are still
- standing. Built originally in the heart of the forest, in the reign of
- Philip le Bel, it now could be seen a few hundred yards from the road
- leading from the village of Sainte-Genevieve to Monthery. A mass of
- inharmonious structures, it is dominated by a donjon. When the visitor has
- mounted the crumbling steps of this ancient donjon, he reaches a little
- plateau where, in the seventeenth century, Georges Philibert de Sequigny,
- Lord of the Glandier, Maisons-Neuves and other places, built the existing
- town in an abominably rococo style of architecture.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was in this place, seemingly belonging entirely to the past, that
- Professor Stangerson and his daughter installed themselves to lay the
- foundations for the science of the future. Its solitude, in the depths of
- woods, was what, more than all, had pleased them. They would have none to
- witness their labours and intrude on their hopes, but the aged stones and
- grand old oaks. The Glandier—ancient Glandierum—was so called
- from the quantity of glands (acorns) which, in all times, had been
- gathered in that neighbourhood. This land, of present mournful interest,
- had fallen back, owing to the negligence or abandonment of its owners,
- into the wild character of primitive nature. The buildings alone, which
- were hidden there, had preserved traces of their strange metamorphoses.
- Every age had left on them its imprint; a bit of architecture with which
- was bound up the remembrance of some terrible event, some bloody
- adventure. Such was the chateau in which science had taken refuge—a
- place seemingly designed to be the theatre of mysteries, terror, and
- death.
- </p>
- <p>
- Having explained so far, I cannot refrain from making one further
- reflection. If I have lingered a little over this description of the
- Glandier, it is not because I have reached the right moment for creating
- the necessary atmosphere for the unfolding of the tragedy before the eyes
- of the reader. Indeed, in all this matter, my first care will be to be as
- simple as is possible. I have no ambition to be an author. An author is
- always something of a romancer, and God knows, the mystery of The Yellow
- Room is quite full enough of real tragic horror to require no aid from
- literary effects. I am, and only desire to be, a faithful “reporter.” My
- duty is to report the event; and I place the event in its frame—that
- is all. It is only natural that you should know where the things happened.
- </p>
- <p>
- I return to Monsieur Stangerson. When he bought the estate, fifteen years
- before the tragedy with which we are engaged occurred, the Chateau du
- Glandier had for a long time been unoccupied. Another old chateau in the
- neighbourhood, built in the fourteenth century by Jean de Belmont, was
- also abandoned, so that that part of the country was very little
- inhabited. Some small houses on the side of the road leading to Corbeil,
- an inn, called the “Auberge du Donjon,” which offered passing hospitality
- to waggoners; these were about all to represent civilisation in this
- out-of-the-way part of the country, but a few leagues from the capital.
- </p>
- <p>
- But this deserted condition of the place had been the determining reason
- for the choice made by Monsieur Stangerson and his daughter. Monsieur
- Stangerson was already celebrated. He had returned from America, where his
- works had made a great stir. The book which he had published at
- Philadelphia, on the “Dissociation of Matter by Electric Action,” had
- aroused opposition throughout the whole scientific world. Monsieur
- Stangerson was a Frenchman, but of American origin. Important matters
- relating to a legacy had kept him for several years in the United States,
- where he had continued the work begun by him in France, whither he had
- returned in possession of a large fortune. This fortune was a great boon
- to him; for, though he might have made millions of dollars by exploiting
- two or three of his chemical discoveries relative to new processes of
- dyeing, it was always repugnant to him to use for his own private gain the
- wonderful gift of invention he had received from nature. He considered he
- owed it to mankind, and all that his genius brought into the world went,
- by this philosophical view of his duty, into the public lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- If he did not try to conceal his satisfaction at coming into possession of
- this fortune, which enabled him to give himself up to his passion for pure
- science, he had equally to rejoice, it seemed to him, for another cause.
- Mademoiselle Stangerson was, at the time when her father returned from
- America and bought the Glandier estate, twenty years of age. She was
- exceedingly pretty, having at once the Parisian grace of her mother, who
- had died in giving her birth, and all the splendour, all the riches of the
- young American blood of her parental grandfather, William Stangerson. A
- citizen of Philadelphia, William Stangerson had been obliged to become
- naturalised in obedience to family exigencies at the time of his marriage
- with a French lady, she who was to be the mother of the illustrious
- Stangerson. In that way the professor’s French nationality is accounted
- for.
- </p>
- <p>
- Twenty years of age, a charming blonde, with blue eyes, milk-white
- complexion, and radiant with divine health, Mathilde Stangerson was one of
- the most beautiful marriageable girls in either the old or the new world.
- It was her father’s duty, in spite of the inevitable pain which a
- separation from her would cause him, to think of her marriage; and he was
- fully prepared for it. Nevertheless, he buried himself and his child at
- the Glandier at the moment when his friends were expecting him to bring
- her out into society. Some of them expressed their astonishment, and to
- their questions he answered: “It is my daughter’s wish. I can refuse her
- nothing. She has chosen the Glandier.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Interrogated in her turn, the young girl replied calmly: “Where could we
- work better than in this solitude?” For Mademoiselle Stangerson had
- already begun to collaborate with her father in his work. It could not at
- the time be imagined that her passion for science would lead her so far as
- to refuse all the suitors who presented themselves to her for over fifteen
- years. So secluded was the life led by the two, father and daughter, that
- they showed themselves only at a few official receptions and, at certain
- times in the year, in two or three friendly drawing-rooms, where the fame
- of the professor and the beauty of Mathilde made a sensation. The young
- girl’s extreme reserve did not at first discourage suitors; but at the end
- of a few years, they tired of their quest.
- </p>
- <p>
- One alone persisted with tender tenacity and deserved the name of “eternal
- fiance,” a name he accepted with melancholy resignation; that was Monsieur
- Robert Darzac. Mademoiselle Stangerson was now no longer young, and it
- seemed that, having found no reason for marrying at five-and-thirty, she
- would never find one. But such an argument evidently found no acceptance
- with Monsieur Robert Darzac. He continued to pay his court—if the
- delicate and tender attention with which he ceaselessly surrounded this
- woman of five-and-thirty could be called courtship—in face of her
- declared intention never to marry.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly, some weeks before the events with which we are occupied, a
- report—to which nobody attached any importance, so incredible did it
- sound—was spread about Paris, that Mademoiselle Stangerson had at
- last consented to “crown” the inextinguishable flame of Monsieur Robert
- Darzac! It needed that Monsieur Robert Darzac himself should not deny this
- matrimonial rumour to give it an appearance of truth, so unlikely did it
- seem to be well founded. One day, however, Monsieur Stangerson, as he was
- leaving the Academy of Science, announced that the marriage of his
- daughter and Monsieur Robert Darzac would be celebrated in the privacy of
- the Chateau du Glandier, as soon as he and his daughter had put the
- finishing touches to their report summing up their labours on the
- “Dissociation of Matter.” The new household would install itself in the
- Glandier, and the son-in-law would lend his assistance in the work to
- which the father and daughter had dedicated their lives.
- </p>
- <p>
- The scientific world had barely had time to recover from the effect of
- this news, when it learned of the attempted assassination of Mademoiselle
- under the extraordinary conditions which we have detailed and which our
- visit to the chateau was to enable us to ascertain with yet greater
- precision. I have not hesitated to furnish the reader with all these
- retrospective details, known to me through my business relations with
- Monsieur Robert Darzac. On crossing the threshold of “The Yellow Room” he
- was as well posted as I was.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Makes a Remark to Monsieur Robert
- Darzac Which Produces Its Little Effect
- </h2>
- <p>
- Rouletabille and I had been walking for several minutes, by the side of a
- long wall bounding the vast property of Monsieur Stangerson and had
- already come within sight of the entrance gate, when our attention was
- drawn to an individual who, half bent to the ground, seemed to be so
- completely absorbed in what he was doing as not to have seen us coming
- towards him. At one time he stooped so low as almost to touch the ground;
- at another he drew himself up and attentively examined the wall; then he
- looked into the palm of one of his hands, and walked away with rapid
- strides. Finally he set off running, still looking into the palm of his
- hand. Rouletabille had brought me to a standstill by a gesture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush! Frederic Larsan is at work! Don’t let us disturb him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille had a great admiration for the celebrated detective. I had
- never before seen him, but I knew him well by reputation. At that time,
- before Rouletabille had given proof of his unique talent, Larsan was
- reputed as the most skilful unraveller of the most mysterious and
- complicated crimes. His reputation was world-wide, and the police of
- London, and even of America, often called him in to their aid when their
- own national inspectors and detectives found themselves at the end of
- their wits and resources.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one was astonished, then, that the head of the Surete had, at the
- outset of the mystery of “The Yellow Room”, telegraphed his precious
- subordinate to London, where he had been sent on a big case of stolen
- securities, to return with all haste. Frederic who, at the Surete, was
- called the “great Frederic,” had made all speed, doubtless knowing by
- experience that, if he was interrupted in what he was doing, it was
- because his services were urgently needed in another direction; so, as
- Rouletabille said, he was that morning already “at work.” We soon found
- out in what it consisted.
- </p>
- <p>
- What he was continually looking at in the palm of his right hand was
- nothing but his watch, the minute hand of which he appeared to be noting
- intently. Then he turned back still running, stopping only when he reached
- the park gate, where he again consulted his watch and then put it away in
- his pocket, shrugging his shoulders with a gesture of discouragement. He
- pushed open the park gate, reclosed and locked it, raised his head and,
- through the bars, perceived us. Rouletabille rushed after him, and I
- followed. Frederic Larsan waited for us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Fred,” said Rouletabille, raising his hat and showing the
- profound respect, based on admiration, which the young reporter felt for
- the celebrated detective, “can you tell me whether Monsieur Robert Darzac
- is at the chateau at this moment? Here is one of his friends, of the Paris
- Bar, who desires to speak with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really don’t know, Monsieur Rouletabille,” replied Fred, shaking hands
- with my friend, whom he had several times met in the course of his
- difficult investigations. “I have not seen him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The concierges will be able to inform us no doubt?” said Rouletabille,
- pointing to the lodge the door and windows of which were close shut.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The concierges will not be able to give you any information, Monsieur
- Rouletabille.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because they were arrested half an hour ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Arrested!” cried Rouletabille; “then they are the murderers!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederic Larsan shrugged his shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When you can’t arrest the real murderer,” he said with an air of supreme
- irony, “you can always indulge in the luxury of discovering accomplices.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you have them arrested, Monsieur Fred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not I!—I haven’t had them arrested. In the first place, I am pretty
- sure that they have not had anything to do with the affair, and then
- because—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because of what?” asked Rouletabille eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because of nothing,” said Larsan, shaking his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because there were no accomplices!” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aha!—you have an idea, then, about this matter?” said Larsan,
- looking at Rouletabille intently, “yet you have seen nothing, young man—you
- have not yet gained admission here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall get admission.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I doubt it. The orders are strict.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall gain admission, if you let me see Monsieur Robert Darzac. Do that
- for me. You know we are old friends. I beg of you, Monsieur Fred. Do you
- remember the article I wrote about you on the gold bar case?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The face of Rouletabille at the moment was really funny to look at. It
- showed such an irresistible desire to cross the threshold beyond which
- some prodigious mystery had occurred; it appealed with so much eloquence,
- not only of the mouth and eyes, but with all its features, that I could
- not refrain from bursting into laughter. Frederic Larsan, no more than
- myself, could retain his gravity. Meanwhile, standing on the other side of
- the gate, he calmly put the key in his pocket. I closely scrutinised him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He might be about fifty years of age. He had a fine head, his hair turning
- grey; a colourless complexion, and a firm profile. His forehead was
- prominent, his chin and cheeks clean shaven. His upper lip, without
- moustache, was finely chiselled. His eyes were rather small and round,
- with a look in them that was at once searching and disquieting. He was of
- middle height and well built, with a general bearing elegant and
- gentlemanly. There was nothing about him of the vulgar policeman. In his
- way, he was an artist, and one felt that he had a high opinion of himself.
- The sceptical tone of his conversation was that of a man who had been
- taught by experience. His strange profession had brought him into contact
- with so many crimes and villanies that it would have been remarkable if
- his nature had not been a little hardened.
- </p>
- <p>
- Larsan turned his head at the sound of a vehicle which had come from the
- chateau and reached the gate behind him. We recognised the cab which had
- conveyed the examining magistrate and his Registrar from the station at
- Epinay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said Frederic Larsan, “if you want to speak with Monsieur Robert
- Darzac, he is here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The cab was already at the park gate and Robert Darzac was begging
- Frederic Larsan to open it for him, explaining that he was pressed for
- time to catch the next train leaving Epinay for Paris. Then he recognised
- me. While Larsan was unlocking the gate, Monsieur Darzac inquired what had
- brought me to the Glandier at such a tragic moment. I noticed that he was
- frightfully pale, and that his face was lined as if from the effects of
- some terrible suffering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Mademoiselle getting better?” I immediately asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he said. “She will be saved perhaps. She must be saved!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not add “or it will be my death”; but I felt that the phrase
- trembled on his pale lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille intervened:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are in a hurry, Monsieur; but I must speak with you. I have something
- of the greatest importance to tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederic Larsan interrupted:
- </p>
- <p>
- “May I leave you?” he asked of Robert Darzac. “Have you a key, or do you
- wish me to give you this one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you. I have a key and will lock the gate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Larsan hurried off in the direction of the chateau, the imposing pile of
- which could be perceived a few hundred yards away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Robert Darzac, with knit brow, was beginning to show impatience. I
- presented Rouletabille as a good friend of mine, but, as soon as he learnt
- that the young man was a journalist, he looked at me very reproachfully,
- excused himself, under the necessity of having to reach Epinay in twenty
- minutes, bowed, and whipped up his horse. But Rouletabille had seized the
- bridle and, to my utter astonishment, stopped the carriage with a vigorous
- hand. Then he gave utterance to a sentence which was utterly meaningless
- to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its
- brightness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The words had no sooner left the lips of Rouletabille than I saw Robert
- Darzac quail. Pale as he was, he became paler. His eyes were fixed on the
- young man in terror, and he immediately descended from the vehicle in an
- inexpressible state of agitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come!—come in!” he stammered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, suddenly, and with a sort of fury, he repeated:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us go, monsieur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned up by the road he had come from the chateau, Rouletabille still
- retaining his hold on the horse’s bridle. I addressed a few words to
- Monsieur Darzac, but he made no answer. My looks questioned Rouletabille,
- but his gaze was elsewhere.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI. In the Heart of the Oak Grove
- </h2>
- <p>
- We reached the chateau, and, as we approached it, saw four gendarmes
- pacing in front of a little door in the ground floor of the donjon. We
- soon learned that in this ground floor, which had formerly served as a
- prison, Monsieur and Madame Bernier, the concierges, were confined.
- Monsieur Robert Darzac led us into the modern part of the chateau by a
- large door, protected by a projecting awning—a “marquise” as it is
- called. Rouletabille, who had resigned the horse and the cab to the care
- of a servant, never took his eyes off Monsieur Darzac. I followed his look
- and perceived that it was directed solely towards the gloved hands of the
- Sorbonne professor. When we were in a tiny sitting-room fitted with old
- furniture, Monsieur Darzac turned to Rouletabille and said sharply:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you want?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter answered in an equally sharp tone:
- </p>
- <p>
- “To shake you by the hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Darzac shrank back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does that mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Evidently he understood, what I also understood, that my friend suspected
- him of the abominable attempt on the life of Mademoiselle Stangerson. The
- impression of the blood-stained hand on the walls of “The Yellow Room” was
- in his mind. I looked at the man closely. His haughty face with its
- expression ordinarily so straightforward was at this moment strangely
- troubled. He held out his right hand and, referring to me, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you are a friend of Monsieur Sainclair who has rendered me invaluable
- services in a just cause, monsieur, I see no reason for refusing you my
- hand—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille did not take the extended hand. Lying with the utmost
- audacity, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur, I have lived several years in Russia, where I have acquired the
- habit of never taking any but an ungloved hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought that the Sorbonne professor would express his anger openly, but,
- on the contrary, by a visibly violent effort, he calmed himself, took off
- his gloves, and showed his hands; they were unmarked by any cicatrix.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you satisfied?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” replied Rouletabille. “My dear friend,” he said, turning to me, “I
- am obliged to ask you to leave us alone for a moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I bowed and retired; stupefied by what I had seen and heard. I could not
- understand why Monsieur Robert Darzac had not already shown the door to my
- impertinent, insulting, and stupid friend. I was angry myself with
- Rouletabille at that moment, for his suspicions, which had led to this
- scene of the gloves.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some twenty minutes I walked about in front of the chateau, trying
- vainly to link together the different events of the day. What was in
- Rouletabille’s mind? Was it possible that he thought Monsieur Robert
- Darzac to be the murderer? How could it be thought that this man, who was
- to have married Mademoiselle Stangerson in the course of a few days, had
- introduced himself into “The Yellow Room” to assassinate his fiancee? I
- could find no explanation as to how the murderer had been able to leave
- “The Yellow Room”; and so long as that mystery, which appeared to me so
- inexplicable, remained unexplained, I thought it was the duty of all of us
- to refrain from suspecting anybody. But, then, that seemingly senseless
- phrase—“The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden
- its brightness”—still rang in my ears. What did it mean? I was eager
- to rejoin Rouletabille and question him.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment the young man came out of the chateau in the company of
- Monsieur Robert Darzac, and, extraordinary to relate, I saw, at a glance,
- that they were the best of friends. “We are going to “The Yellow Room”. Come
- with us,” Rouletabille said to me. “You know, my dear boy, I am going to
- keep you with me all day. We’ll breakfast together somewhere about here—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll breakfast with me, here, gentlemen—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, thanks,” replied the young man. “We shall breakfast at the Donjon
- Inn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll fare very badly there; you’ll not find anything—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think so? Well, I hope to find something there,” replied
- Rouletabille. “After breakfast, we’ll set to work again. I’ll write my
- article and if you’ll be so good as to take it to the office for me—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Won’t you come back with me to Paris?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; I shall remain here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I turned towards Rouletabille. He spoke quite seriously, and Monsieur
- Robert Darzac did not appear to be in the least degree surprised.
- </p>
- <p>
- We were passing by the donjon and heard wailing voices. Rouletabille
- asked:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why have these people been arrested?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a little my fault,” said Monsieur Darzac. “I happened to remark to
- the examining magistrate yesterday that it was inexplicable that the
- concierges had had time to hear the revolver shots, to dress themselves,
- and to cover so great a distance as that which lies between their lodge
- and the pavilion, in the space of two minutes; for not more than that
- interval of time had elapsed after the firing of the shots when they were
- met by Daddy Jacques.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was suspicious evidently,” acquiesced Rouletabille. “And were they
- dressed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is what is so incredible—they were dressed—completely—not
- one part of their costume wanting. The woman wore sabots, but the man had
- on laced boots. Now they assert that they went to bed at half-past nine.
- On arriving this morning, the examining magistrate brought with him from
- Paris a revolver of the same calibre as that found in the room (for he
- couldn’t use the one held for evidence), and made his Registrar fire two
- shots in “The Yellow Room” while the doors and windows were closed. We were
- with him in the lodge of the concierges, and yet we heard nothing, not a
- sound. The concierges have lied, of that there can be no doubt. They must
- have been already waiting, not far from the pavilion, waiting for
- something! Certainly they are not to be accused of being the authors of
- the crime, but their complicity is not improbable. That was why Monsieur
- de Marquet had them arrested at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If they had been accomplices,” said Rouletabille, “they would not have
- been there at all. When people throw themselves into the arms of justice
- with the proofs of complicity on them, you can be sure they are not
- accomplices. I don’t believe there are any accomplices in this affair.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, why were they abroad at midnight? Why don’t they say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They have certainly some reason for their silence. What that reason is,
- has to be found out; for, even if they are not accomplices, it may be of
- importance. Everything that took place on such a night is important.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We had crossed an old bridge thrown over the Douve and were entering the
- part of the park called the Oak Grove, The oaks here were centuries old.
- Autumn had already shrivelled their tawny leaves, and their high branches,
- black and contorted, looked like horrid heads of hair, mingled with quaint
- reptiles such as the ancient sculptors have made on the head of Medusa.
- This place, which Mademoiselle found cheerful and in which she lived in
- the summer season, appeared to us as sad and funereal now. The soil was
- black and muddy from the recent rains and the rotting of the fallen
- leaves; the trunks of the trees were black and the sky above us was now,
- as if in mourning, charged with great, heavy clouds.
- </p>
- <p>
- And it was in this sombre and desolate retreat that we saw the white walls
- of the pavilion as we approached. A queer-looking building without a
- window visible on the side by which we neared it. A little door alone
- marked the entrance to it. It might have passed for a tomb, a vast
- mausoleum in the midst of a thick forest. As we came nearer, we were able
- to make out its disposition. The building obtained all the light it needed
- from the south, that is to say, from the open country. The little door
- closed on the park. Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson must have found
- it an ideal seclusion for their work and their dreams.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- ___________________________________________________
- ditch |
- ________________________________________________ |
- enclosing wall || || | |
- || || | |
- ||___ 1 |d |
- ||bed| || |i |
- PARK ||___|________|| |t |
- ||:::::| 4 || |c |
- ||::5::| || 2 |h |
- oo oo ||::::|___ _|| | |
- Traces oo || || | |
- of oo oo oo | |
- Footsteps|| || | |
- || || | |
- || 3 ||___________| |______________
- || || 6 | ditch
- ||____ ____||___________|_________________
- door enclosing wall
-</pre>
- <p>
- Here is the ground plan of the pavilion. It had a ground-floor which was
- reached by a few steps, and above it was an attic, with which we need not
- concern ourselves. The plan of the ground-floor only, sketched roughly, is
- what I here submit to the reader.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- 1. “The Yellow Room”, with its one window and its one door opening
- into the laboratory.
-
- 2. Laboratory, with its two large, barred windows and its doors,
- one serving for the vestibule, the other for “The Yellow Room”.
-
- 3. Vestibule, with its unbarred window and door opening into the
- park.
-
- 4. Lavatory.
-
- 5. Stairs leading to the attic.
-
- 6. Large and the only chimney in the pavilion, serving for the
- experiments of the laboratory.
-</pre>
- <p>
- The plan was drawn by Rouletabille, and I assured myself that there was
- not a line in it that was wanting to help to the solution of the problem
- then set before the police. With the lines of this plan and the
- description of its parts before them, my readers will know as much as
- Rouletabille knew when he entered the pavilion for the first time. With
- him they may now ask: How did the murderer escape from “The Yellow Room”?
- Before mounting the three steps leading up to the door of the pavilion,
- Rouletabille stopped and asked Monsieur Darzac point blank:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What was the motive for the crime?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speaking for myself, Monsieur, there can be no doubt on the matter,” said
- Mademoiselle Stangerson’s fiance, greatly distressed. “The nails of the
- fingers, the deep scratches on the chest and throat of Mademoiselle
- Stangerson show that the wretch who attacked her attempted to commit a
- frightful crime. The medical experts who examined these traces yesterday
- affirm that they were made by the same hand as that which left its red
- imprint on the wall; an enormous hand, Monsieur, much too large to go into
- my gloves,” he added with an indefinable smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Could not that blood-stained hand,” I interrupted, “have been the hand of
- Mademoiselle Stangerson who, in the moment of falling, had pressed it
- against the wall, and, in slipping, enlarged the impression?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was not a drop of blood on either of her hands when she was lifted
- up,” replied Monsieur Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We are now sure,” said I, “that it was Mademoiselle Stangerson who was
- armed with Daddy Jacques’s revolver, since she wounded the hand of the
- murderer. She was in fear, then, of somebody or something.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Probably.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you suspect anybody?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied Monsieur Darzac, looking at Rouletabille. Rouletabille then
- said to me:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must know, my friend, that the inquiry is a little more advanced than
- Monsieur de Marquet has chosen to tell us. He not only knows that
- Mademoiselle Stangerson defended herself with the revolver, but he knows
- what the weapon was that was used to attack her. Monsieur Darzac tells me
- it was a mutton-bone. Why is Monsieur de Marquet surrounding this
- mutton-bone with so much mystery? No doubt for the purpose of facilitating
- the inquiries of the agents of the Surete? He imagines, perhaps, that the
- owner of this instrument of crime, the most terrible invented, is going to
- be found amongst those who are well-known in the slums of Paris who use
- it. But who can ever say what passes through the brain of an examining
- magistrate?” Rouletabille added with contemptuous irony.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has a mutton-bone been found in “The Yellow Room”?” I asked him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur,” said Robert Darzac, “at the foot of the bed; but I beg of
- you not to say anything about it.” (I made a gesture of assent.) “It was
- an enormous mutton-bone, the top of which, or rather the joint, was still
- red with the blood of the frightful wound. It was an old bone, which may,
- according to appearances, have served in other crimes. That’s what
- Monsieur de Marquet thinks. He has had it sent to the municipal laboratory
- at Paris to be analysed. In fact, he thinks he has detected on it, not
- only the blood of the last victim, but other stains of dried blood,
- evidences of previous crimes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A mutton-bone in the hand of a skilled assassin is a frightful weapon,”
- said Rouletabille, “a more certain weapon than a heavy hammer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The scoundrel has proved it to be so,” said Monsieur Robert Darzac,
- sadly. “The joint of the bone found exactly fits the wound inflicted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My belief is that the wound would have been mortal, if the murderer’s
- blow had not been arrested in the act by Mademoiselle Stangerson’s
- revolver. Wounded in the hand, he dropped the mutton-bone and fled.
- Unfortunately, the blow had been already given, and Mademoiselle was
- stunned after having been nearly strangled. If she had succeeded in
- wounding the man with the first shot of the revolver, she would,
- doubtless, have escaped the blow with the bone. But she had certainly
- employeed her revolver too late; the first shot deviated and lodged in the
- ceiling; it was the second only that took effect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Having said this, Monsieur Darzac knocked at the door of the pavilion. I
- must confess to feeling a strong impatience to reach the spot where the
- crime had been committed. It was some time before the door was opened by a
- man whom I at once recognised as Daddy Jacques.
- </p>
- <p>
- He appeared to be well over sixty years of age. He had a long white beard
- and white hair, on which he wore a flat Basque cap. He was dressed in a
- complete suit of chestnut-coloured velveteen, worn at the sides; sabots
- were on his feet. He had rather a waspish-looking face, the expression of
- which lightened, however, as soon as he saw Monsieur Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Friends,” said our guide. “Nobody in the pavilion, Daddy Jacques?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ought not to allow anybody to enter, Monsieur Robert, but of course the
- order does not apply to you. These gentlemen of justice have seen
- everything there is to be seen, and made enough drawings, and drawn up
- enough reports—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me, Monsieur Jacques, one question before anything else,” said
- Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it, young man? If I can answer it—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did your mistress wear her hair in bands, that evening? You know what I
- mean—over her forehead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, young man. My mistress never wore her hair in the way you suggest,
- neither on that day nor on any other. She had her hair drawn up, as usual,
- so that her beautiful forehead could be seen, pure as that of an unborn
- child!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille grunted and set to work examining the door, finding that it
- fastened itself automatically. He satisfied himself that it could never
- remain open and needed a key to open it. Then we entered the vestibule, a
- small, well-lit room paved with square red tiles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! This is the window by which the murderer escaped!” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So they keep on saying, monsieur, so they keep on saying! But if he had
- gone off that way, we should have been sure to have seen him. We are not
- blind, neither Monsieur Stangerson nor me, nor the concierges who are in
- prison. Why have they not put me in prison, too, on account of my
- revolver?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille had already opened the window and was examining the shutters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Were these closed at the time of the crime?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And fastened with the iron catch inside,” said Daddy Jacques, “and I am
- quite sure that the murderer did not get out that way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are there any blood stains?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, on the stones outside; but blood of what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said Rouletabille, “there are footmarks visible on the path—the
- ground was very moist. I will look into that presently.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nonsense!” interrupted Daddy Jacques; “the murderer did not go that way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Which way did he go, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do I know?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille looked at everything, smelled everything. He went down on his
- knees and rapidly examined every one of the paving tiles. Daddy Jacques
- went on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!—you can’t find anything, monsieur. Nothing has been found. And
- now it is all dirty; too many persons have tramped over it. They wouldn’t
- let me wash it, but on the day of the crime I had washed the floor
- thoroughly, and if the murderer had crossed it with his hobnailed boots, I
- should not have failed to see where he had been; he has left marks enough
- in Mademoiselle’s chamber.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille rose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When was the last time you washed these tiles?” he asked, and he fixed on
- Daddy Jacques a most searching look.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—as I told you—on the day of the crime, towards half-past
- five—while Mademoiselle and her father were taking a little walk
- before dinner, here in this room: they had dined in the laboratory. The
- next day, the examining magistrate came and saw all the marks there were
- on the floor as plainly as if they had been made with ink on white paper.
- Well, neither in the laboratory nor in the vestibule, which were both as
- clean as a new pin, were there any traces of a man’s footmarks. Since they
- have been found near this window outside, he must have made his way
- through the ceiling of “The Yellow Room” into the attic, then cut his way
- through the roof and dropped to the ground outside the vestibule window.
- But—there’s no hole, neither in the ceiling of “The Yellow Room” nor
- in the roof of my attic—that’s absolutely certain! So you see we
- know nothing—nothing! And nothing will ever be known! It’s a mystery
- of the Devil’s own making.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille went down upon his knees again almost in front of a small
- lavatory at the back of the vestibule. In that position he remained for
- about a minute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” I asked him when he got up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! nothing very important,—a drop of blood,” he replied, turning
- towards Daddy Jacques as he spoke. “While you were washing the laboratory
- and this vestibule, was the vestibule window open?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Monsieur, it was closed; but after I had done washing the floor, I
- lit some charcoal for Monsieur in the laboratory furnace, and, as I lit it
- with old newspapers, it smoked, so I opened both the windows in the
- laboratory and this one, to make a current of air; then I shut those in
- the laboratory and left this one open when I went out. When I returned to
- the pavilion, this window had been closed and Monsieur and Mademoiselle
- were already at work in the laboratory.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur or Mademoiselle Stangerson had, no doubt, shut it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You did not ask them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- After a close scrutiny of the little lavatory and of the staircase leading
- up to the attic, Rouletabille—to whom we seemed no longer to exist—entered
- the laboratory. I followed him. It was, I confess, in a state of great
- excitement. Robert Darzac lost none of my friend’s movements. As for me,
- my eyes were drawn at once to the door of “The Yellow Room”. It was closed
- and, as I immediately saw, partially shattered and out of commission.
- </p>
- <p>
- My friend, who went about his work methodically, silently studied the room
- in which we were. It was large and well-lighted. Two big windows—almost
- bays—were protected by strong iron bars and looked out upon a wide
- extent of country. Through an opening in the forest, they commanded a
- wonderful view through the length of the valley and across the plain to
- the large town which could be clearly seen in fair weather. To-day,
- however, a mist hung over the ground—and blood in that room!
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole of one side of the laboratory was taken up with a large chimney,
- crucibles, ovens, and such implements as are needed for chemical
- experiments; tables, loaded with phials, papers, reports, an electrical
- machine,—an apparatus, as Monsieur Darzac informed me, employeed by
- Professor Stangerson to demonstrate the Dissociation of Matter under the
- action of solar light—and other scientific implements.
- </p>
- <p>
- Along the walls were cabinets, plain or glass-fronted, through which were
- visible microscopes, special photographic apparatus, and a large quantity
- of crystals.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille, who was ferreting in the chimney, put his fingers into one
- of the crucibles. Suddenly he drew himself up, and held up a piece of
- half-consumed paper in his hand. He stepped up to where we were talking by
- one of the windows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keep that for us, Monsieur Darzac,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- I bent over the piece of scorched paper which Monsieur Darzac took from
- the hand of Rouletabille, and read distinctly the only words that remained
- legible:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Presbytery—lost nothing—charm, nor the gar—its
- brightness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Twice since the morning these same meaningless words had struck me, and,
- for the second time, I saw that they produced on the Sorbonne professor
- the same paralysing effect. Monsieur Darzac’s first anxiety showed itself
- when he turned his eyes in the direction of Daddy Jacques. But, occupied
- as he was at another window, he had seen nothing. Then tremblingly opening
- his pocket-book he put the piece of paper into it, sighing: “My God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- During this time, Rouletabille had mounted into the opening of the
- fire-grate—that is to say, he had got upon the bricks of a furnace—and
- was attentively examining the chimney, which grew narrower towards the
- top, the outlet from it being closed with sheets of iron, fastened into
- the brickwork, through which passed three small chimneys.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible to get out that way,” he said, jumping back into the
- laboratory. “Besides, even if he had tried to do it, he would have brought
- all that ironwork down to the ground. No, no; it is not on that side we
- have to search.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille next examined the furniture and opened the doors of the
- cabinet. Then he came to the windows, through which he declared no one
- could possibly have passed. At the second window he found Daddy Jacques in
- contemplation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Daddy Jacques,” he said, “what are you looking at?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That policeman who is always going round and round the lake. Another of
- those fellows who think they can see better than anybody else!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t know Frederic Larsan, Daddy Jacques, or you wouldn’t speak of
- him in that way,” said Rouletabille in a melancholy tone. “If there is
- anyone who will find the murderer, it will be he.” And Rouletabille heaved
- a deep sigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before they find him, they will have to learn how they lost him,” said
- Daddy Jacques, stolidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length we reached the door of “The Yellow Room” itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is the door behind which some terrible scene took place,” said
- Rouletabille, with a solemnity which, under any other circumstances, would
- have been comical.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII. In Which Rouletabille Sets Out on an Expedition Under the Bed
- </h2>
- <p>
- Rouletabille having pushed open the door of “The Yellow Room” paused on the
- threshold saying, with an emotion which I only later understood, “Ah, the
- perfume of the lady in black!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The chamber was dark. Daddy Jacques was about to open the blinds when
- Rouletabille stopped him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did not the tragedy take place in complete darkness?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, young man, I don’t think so. Mademoiselle always had a nightlight on
- her table, and I lit it every evening before she went to bed. I was a sort
- of chambermaid, you must understand, when the evening came. The real
- chambermaid did not come here much before the morning. Mademoiselle worked
- late—far into the night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where did the table with the night-light stand,—far from the bed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some way from the bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you light the burner now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The lamp is broken and the oil that was in it was spilled when the table
- was upset. All the rest of the things in the room remain just as they
- were. I have only to open the blinds for you to see.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille went back into the laboratory, closed the shutters of the two
- windows and the door of the vestibule.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we were in complete darkness, he lit a wax vesta, and asked Daddy
- Jacques to move to the middle of the chamber with it to the place where
- the night-light was burning that night.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Jacques who was in his stockings—he usually left his sabots in
- the vestibule—entered “The Yellow Room” with his bit of a vesta. We
- vaguely distinguished objects overthrown on the floor, a bed in one
- corner, and, in front of us, to the left, the gleam of a looking-glass
- hanging on the wall, near to the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will do!—you may now open the blinds,” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t come any further,” Daddy Jacques begged, “you may make marks with
- your boots, and nothing must be deranged; it’s an idea of the magistrate’s—though
- he has nothing more to do here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he pushed open the shutter. The pale daylight entered from without,
- throwing a sinister light on the saffron-coloured walls. The floor—for
- though the laboratory and the vestibule were tiled, “The Yellow Room” had a
- flooring of wood—was covered with a single yellow mat which was
- large enough to cover nearly the whole room, under the bed and under the
- dressing-table—the only piece of furniture that remained upright.
- The centre round table, the night-table and two chairs had been
- overturned. These did not prevent a large stain of blood being visible on
- the mat, made, as Daddy Jacques informed us, by the blood which had flowed
- from the wound on Mademoiselle Stangerson’s forehead. Besides these
- stains, drops of blood had fallen in all directions, in line with the
- visible traces of the footsteps—large and black—of the
- murderer. Everything led to the presumption that these drops of blood had
- fallen from the wound of the man who had, for a moment, placed his red
- hand on the wall. There were other traces of the same hand on the wall,
- but much less distinct.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See!—see this blood on the wall!” I could not help exclaiming. “The
- man who pressed his hand so heavily upon it in the darkness must certainly
- have thought that he was pushing at a door! That’s why he pressed on it so
- hard, leaving on the yellow paper the terrible evidence. I don’t think
- there are many hands in the world of that sort. It is big and strong and
- the fingers are nearly all one as long as the other! The thumb is wanting
- and we have only the mark of the palm; but if we follow the trace of the
- hand,” I continued, “we see that, after leaving its imprint on the wall,
- the touch sought the door, found it, and then felt for the lock—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt,” interrupted Rouletabille, chuckling,—“only there is no
- blood, either on the lock or on the bolt!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does that prove?” I rejoined with a good sense of which I was proud;
- “he might have opened the lock with his left hand, which would have been
- quite natural, his right hand being wounded.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He didn’t open it at all!” Daddy Jacques again exclaimed. “We are not
- fools; and there were four of us when we burst open the door!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a queer hand!—Look what a queer hand it is!” I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a very natural hand,” said Rouletabille, “of which the shape has
- been deformed by its having slipped on the wall. The man dried his hand on
- the wall. He must be a man about five feet eight in height.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you come at that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the height of the marks on the wall.”
- </p>
- <p>
- My friend next occupied himself with the mark of the bullet in the wall.
- It was a round hole.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This ball was fired straight, not from above, and consequently, not from
- below.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille went back to the door and carefully examined the lock and the
- bolt, satisfying himself that the door had certainly been burst open from
- the outside, and, further, that the key had been found in the lock on the
- inside of the chamber. He finally satisfied himself that with the key in
- the lock, the door could not possibly be opened from without with another
- key. Having made sure of all these details, he let fall these words:
- “That’s better!”—Then sitting down on the ground, he hastily took
- off his boots and, in his socks, went into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing he did was to examine minutely the overturned furniture.
- We watched him in silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Young fellow, you are giving yourself a great deal of trouble,” said
- Daddy Jacques ironically.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille raised his head and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have spoken the simple truth, Daddy Jacques; your mistress did not
- have her hair in bands that evening. I was a donkey to have believed she
- did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, with the suppleness of a serpent, he slipped under the bed.
- Presently we heard him ask:
- </p>
- <p>
- “At what time, Monsieur Jacques, did Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson
- arrive at the laboratory?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At six o’clock.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The voice of Rouletabille continued:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,—he’s been under here,—that’s certain; in fact, there was
- no where else where he could have hidden himself. Here, too, are the marks
- of his hobnails. When you entered—all four of you—did you look
- under the bed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At once,—we drew it right out of its place—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And between the mattresses?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was only one on the bed, and on that Mademoiselle was placed; and
- Monsieur Stangerson and the concierge immediately carried it into the
- laboratory. Under the mattress there was nothing but the metal netting,
- which could not conceal anything or anybody. Remember, monsieur, that
- there were four of us and we couldn’t fail to see everything—the
- chamber is so small and scantily furnished, and all was locked behind in
- the pavilion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I ventured on a hypothesis:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps he got away with the mattress—in the mattress!—Anything
- is possible, in the face of such a mystery! In their distress of mind
- Monsieur Stangerson and the concierge may not have noticed they were
- bearing a double weight; especially if the concierge were an accomplice! I
- throw out this hypothesis for what it is worth, but it explains many
- things,—and particularly the fact that neither the laboratory nor
- the vestibule bear any traces of the footmarks found in the room. If, in
- carrying Mademoiselle on the mattress from the laboratory of the chateau,
- they rested for a moment, there might have been an opportunity for the man
- in it to escape.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then?” asked Rouletabille, deliberately laughing under the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- I felt rather vexed and replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know,—but anything appears possible”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “The examining magistrate had the same idea, monsieur,” said Daddy
- Jacques, “and he carefully examined the mattress. He was obliged to laugh
- at the idea, monsieur, as your friend is doing now,—for whoever
- heard of a mattress having a double bottom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was myself obliged to laugh, on seeing that what I had said was absurd;
- but in an affair like this one hardly knows where an absurdity begins or
- ends.
- </p>
- <p>
- My friend alone seemed able to talk intelligently. He called out from
- under the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The mat here has been moved out of place,—who did it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We did, monsieur,” explained Daddy Jacques. “When we could not find the
- assassin, we asked ourselves whether there was not some hole in the floor—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is not,” replied Rouletabille. “Is there a cellar?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, there’s no cellar. But that has not stopped our searching, and has
- not prevented the examining magistrate and his Registrar from studying the
- floor plank by plank, as if there had been a cellar under it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter then reappeared. His eyes were sparkling and his nostrils
- quivered. He remained on his hands and knees. He could not be better
- likened than to an admirable sporting dog on the scent of some unusual
- game. And, indeed, he was scenting the steps of a man,—the man whom
- he has sworn to report to his master, the manager of the “Epoque.” It must
- not be forgotten that Rouletabille was first and last a journalist.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus, on his hands and knees, he made his way to the four corners of the
- room, so to speak, sniffing and going round everything—everything
- that we could see, which was not much, and everything that we could not
- see, which must have been infinite.
- </p>
- <p>
- The toilette table was a simple table standing on four legs; there was
- nothing about it by which it could possibly be changed into a temporary
- hiding-place. There was not a closet or cupboard. Mademoiselle Stangerson
- kept her wardrobe at the chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille literally passed his nose and hands along the walls,
- constructed of solid brickwork. When he had finished with the walls, and
- passed his agile fingers over every portion of the yellow paper covering
- them, he reached to the ceiling, which he was able to touch by mounting on
- a chair placed on the toilette table, and by moving this ingeniously
- constructed stage from place to place he examined every foot of it. When
- he had finished his scrutiny of the ceiling, where he carefully examined
- the hole made by the second bullet, he approached the window, and, once
- more, examined the iron bars and blinds, all of which were solid and
- intact. At last, he gave a grunt of satisfaction and declared “Now I am at
- ease!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,—do you believe that the poor dear young lady was shut up when
- she was being murdered—when she cried out for help?” wailed Daddy
- Jacques.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the young reporter, drying his forehead, ““The Yellow Room” was
- as tightly shut as an iron safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That,” I said, “is why this mystery is the most surprising I know. Edgar
- Allan Poe, in ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue,’ invented nothing like it.
- The place of that crime was sufficiently closed to prevent the escape of a
- man; but there was that window through which the monkey, the perpetrator
- of the murder, could slip away! But here, there can be no question of an
- opening of any sort. The door was fastened, and through the window blinds,
- secure as they were, not even a fly could enter or get out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True, true,” assented Rouletabille as he kept on drying his forehead,
- which seemed to be perspiring less from his recent bodily exertion than
- from his mental agitation. “Indeed, it’s a great, a beautiful, and a very
- curious mystery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Bete du bon Dieu,” muttered Daddy Jacques, “the Bete du bon Dieu
- herself, if she had committed the crime, could not have escaped. Listen!
- Do you hear it? Hush!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Jacques made us a sign to keep quiet and, stretching his arm towards
- the wall nearest the forest, listened to something which we could not
- hear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s answering,” he said at length. “I must kill it. It is too wicked,
- but it’s the Bete du bon Dieu, and, every night, it goes to pray on the
- tomb of Sainte-Genevieve and nobody dares to touch her, for fear that
- Mother Angenoux should cast an evil spell on them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How big is the Bete du bon Dieu?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nearly as big as a small retriever,—a monster, I tell you. Ah!—I
- have asked myself more than once whether it was not her that took our poor
- Mademoiselle by the throat with her claws. But the Bete du bon Dieu does
- not wear hobnailed boots, nor fire revolvers, nor has she a hand like
- that!” exclaimed Daddy Jacques, again pointing out to us the red mark on
- the wall. “Besides, we should have seen her as well as we would have seen
- a man—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently,” I said. “Before we had seen this Yellow Room, I had also
- asked myself whether the cat of Mother Angenoux—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You also!” cried Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t you?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not for a moment. After reading the article in the ‘Matin,’ I knew that a
- cat had nothing to do with the matter. But I swear now that a frightful
- tragedy has been enacted here. You say nothing about the Basque cap, or
- the handkerchief, found here, Daddy Jacques?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, the magistrate has taken them,” the old man answered,
- hesitatingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I haven’t seen either the handkerchief or the cap, yet I can tell you how
- they are made,” the reporter said to him gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you are very clever,” said Daddy Jacques, coughing and embarrassed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The handkerchief is a large one, blue with red stripes and the cap is an
- old Basque cap, like the one you are wearing now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a wizard!” said Daddy Jacques, trying to laugh and not quite
- succeeding. “How do you know that the handkerchief is blue with red
- stripes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because, if it had not been blue with red stripes, it would not have been
- found at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Without giving any further attention to Daddy Jacques, my friend took a
- piece of paper from his pocket, and taking out a pair of scissors, bent
- over the footprints. Placing the paper over one of them he began to cut.
- In a short time he had made a perfect pattern which he handed to me,
- begging me not to lose it.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then returned to the window and, pointing to the figure of Frederic
- Larsan, who had not quitted the side of the lake, asked Daddy Jacques
- whether the detective had, like himself, been working in “The Yellow Room”?
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied Robert Darzac, who, since Rouletabille had handed him the
- piece of scorched paper, had not uttered a word, “He pretends that he does
- not need to examine “The Yellow Room”. He says that the murderer made his
- escape from it in quite a natural way, and that he will, this evening,
- explain how he did it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- As he listened to what Monsieur Darzac had to say, Rouletabille turned
- pale.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has Frederic Larsan found out the truth, which I can only guess at?” he
- murmured. “He is very clever—very clever—and I admire him. But
- what we have to do to-day is something more than the work of a policeman,
- something quite different from the teachings of experience. We have to
- take hold of our reason by the right end.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter rushed into the open air, agitated by the thought that the
- great and famous Fred might anticipate him in the solution of the problem
- of “The Yellow Room”.
- </p>
- <p>
- I managed to reach him on the threshold of the pavilion. “Calm yourself,
- my dear fellow,” I said. “Aren’t you satisfied?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he confessed to me, with a deep sigh. “I am quite satisfied. I have
- discovered many things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Moral or material?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Several moral,—one material. This, for example.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And rapidly he drew from his waistcoat pocket a piece of paper in which he
- had placed a light-coloured hair from a woman’s head.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII. The Examining Magistrate Questions Mademoiselle Stangerson
- </h2>
- <p>
- Two minutes later, as Rouletabille was bending over the footprints
- discovered in the park, under the window of the vestibule, a man,
- evidently a servant at the chateau, came towards us rapidly and called out
- to Monsieur Darzac then coming out of the pavilion:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Robert, the magistrate, you know, is questioning Mademoiselle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac uttered a muttered excuse to us and set off running
- towards the chateau, the man running after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the corpse can speak,” I said, “it would be interesting to be there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must know,” said my friend. “Let’s go to the chateau.” And he drew me
- with him. But, at the chateau, a gendarme placed in the vestibule denied
- us admission up the staircase of the first floor. We were obliged to wait
- down stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is what passed in the chamber of the victim while we were waiting
- below.
- </p>
- <p>
- The family doctor, finding that Mademoiselle Stangerson was much better,
- but fearing a relapse which would no longer permit of her being
- questioned, had thought it his duty to inform the examining magistrate of
- this, who decided to proceed immediately with a brief examination. At this
- examination, the Registrar, Monsieur Stangerson, and the doctor were
- present. Later, I obtained the text of the report of the examination, and
- I give it here, in all its legal dryness:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Question. Are you able, mademoiselle, without too much fatiguing
- yourself, to give some necessary details of the frightful attack of which
- you have been the victim?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Answer. I feel much better, monsieur, and I will tell you all I know.
- When I entered my chamber I did not notice anything unusual there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. Excuse me, mademoiselle,—if you will allow me, I will ask you
- some questions and you will answer them. That will fatigue you less than
- making a long recital.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. Do so, monsieur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. What did you do on that day?—I want you to be as minute and
- precise as possible. I wish to know all you did that day, if it is not
- asking too much of you.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. I rose late, at ten o’clock, for my father and I had returned home
- late on the night previously, having been to dinner at the reception given
- by the President of the Republic, in honour of the Academy of Science of
- Philadelphia. When I left my chamber, at half-past ten, my father was
- already at work in the laboratory. We worked together till midday. We then
- took half-an-hour’s walk in the park, as we were accustomed to do, before
- breakfasting at the chateau. After breakfast, we took another walk for
- half an hour, and then returned to the laboratory. There we found my
- chambermaid, who had come to set my room in order. I went into The Yellow
- Room to give her some slight orders and she directly afterwards left the
- pavilion, and I resumed my work with my father. At five o’clock, we again
- went for a walk in the park and afterward had tea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. Before leaving the pavilion at five o’clock, did you go into your
- chamber?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. No, monsieur, my father went into it, at my request to bring me my
- hat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. And he found nothing suspicious there?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. Evidently no, monsieur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. It is, then, almost certain that the murderer was not yet concealed
- under the bed. When you went out, was the door of the room locked?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. No, there was no reason for locking it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. You were absent from the pavilion some length of time, Monsieur
- Stangerson and you?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. About an hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. It was during that hour, no doubt, that the murderer got into the
- pavilion. But how? Nobody knows. Footmarks have been found in the park,
- leading away from the window of the vestibule, but none has been found
- going towards it. Did you notice whether the vestibule window was open
- when you went out?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. I don’t remember.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Stangerson. It was closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. And when you returned?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson. I did not notice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “M. Stangerson. It was still closed. I remember remarking aloud: ‘Daddy
- Jacques must surely have opened it while we were away.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. Strange!—Do you recollect, Monsieur Stangerson, if during your
- absence, and before going out, he had opened it? You returned to the
- laboratory at six o’clock and resumed work?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson. Yes, monsieur.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. And you did not leave the laboratory from that hour up to the moment
- when you entered your chamber?
- </p>
- <p>
- “M. Stangerson. Neither my daughter nor I, monsieur. We were engaged on
- work that was pressing, and we lost not a moment,—neglecting
- everything else on that account.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. Did you dine in the laboratory?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. For that reason.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. Are you accustomed to dine in the laboratory?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. We rarely dine there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. Could the murderer have known that you would dine there that evening?
- </p>
- <p>
- “M. Stangerson. Good Heavens!—I think not. It was only when we
- returned to the pavilion at six o’clock, that we decided, my daughter and
- I, to dine there. At that moment I was spoken to by my gamekeeper, who
- detained me a moment, to ask me to accompany him on an urgent tour of
- inspection in a part of the woods which I had decided to thin. I put this
- off until the next day, and begged him, as he was going by the chateau, to
- tell the steward that we should dine in the laboratory. He left me, to
- execute the errand and I rejoined my daughter, who was already at work.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. At what hour, mademoiselle, did you go to your chamber while your
- father continued to work there?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. At midnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. Did Daddy Jacques enter “The Yellow Room” in the course of the evening?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. To shut the blinds and light the night-light.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. He saw nothing suspicious?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. He would have told us if he had seen. Daddy Jacques is an honest man
- and very attached to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. You affirm, Monsieur Stangerson, that Daddy Jacques remained with you
- all the time you were in the laboratory?
- </p>
- <p>
- “M. Stangerson. I am sure of it. I have no doubt of that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. When you entered your chamber, mademoiselle, you immediately shut the
- door and locked and bolted it? That was taking unusual precautions,
- knowing that your father and your servant were there? Were you in fear of
- something, then?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. My father would be returning to the chateau and Daddy Jacques would be
- going to his bed. And, in fact, I did fear something.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. You were so much in fear of something that you borrowed Daddy
- Jacques’s revolver without telling him you had done so?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. That is true. I did not wish to alarm anybody,—the more, because
- my fears might have proved to have been foolish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. What was it you feared?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. I hardly know how to tell you. For several nights, I seemed to hear,
- both in the park and out of the park, round the pavilion, unusual sounds,
- sometimes footsteps, at other times the cracking of branches. The night
- before the attack on me, when I did not get to bed before three o’clock in
- the morning, on our return from the Elysee, I stood for a moment before my
- window, and I felt sure I saw shadows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Q. How many?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. Two. They moved round the lake,—then the moon became clouded and
- I lost sight of them. At this time of the season, every year, I have
- generally returned to my apartment in the chateau for the winter; but this
- year I said to myself that I would not quit the pavilion before my father
- had finished the resume of his works on the ‘Dissociation of Matter’ for
- the Academy. I did not wish that that important work, which was to have
- been finished in the course of a few days, should be delayed by a change
- in our daily habit. You can well understand that I did not wish to speak
- of my childish fears to my father, nor did I say anything to Daddy Jacques
- who, I knew, would not have been able to hold his tongue. Knowing that he
- had a revolver in his room, I took advantage of his absence and borrowed
- it, placing it in the drawer of my night-table.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- “Q. You know of no enemies you have?
-
- “A. None.
-
- “Q. You understand, mademoiselle, that these precautions are
- calculated to cause surprise?
-
- “M. Stangerson. Evidently, my child, such precautions are very
- surprising.
-
- “A. No;—because I have told you that I had been uneasy for two
- nights.
-
- “M. Stangerson. You ought to have told me of that! This misfortune
- would have been avoided.
-
- “Q. The door of “The Yellow Room” locked, did you go to bed?
-
- “A. Yes, and, being very tired, I at once went to sleep.
-
- “Q. The night-light was still burning?
-
- “A. Yes, but it gave a very feeble light.
-
- “Q. Then, mademoiselle, tell us what happened.
-
- “A. I do not know whether I had been long asleep, but suddenly I
- awoke—and uttered a loud cry.
-
- “M. Stangerson. Yes—a horrible cry—‘Murder!’—It still rings
- in my ears.
-
- “Q. You uttered a loud cry?
-
- “A. A man was in my chamber. He sprang at me and tried to strangle
- me. I was nearly stifled when suddenly I was able to reach the
- drawer of my night-table and grasp the revolver which I had
- placed in it. At that moment the man had forced me to the foot
- of my bed and brandished in over my head a sort of mace. But
- I had fired. He immediately struck a terrible blow at my head.
- All that, monsieur, passed more rapidly than I can tell it, and
- I know nothing more.
-
- “Q. Nothing?—Have you no idea as to how the assassin could
- escape from your chamber?
-
- “A. None whatever—I know nothing more. One does not know what
- is passing around one, when one is unconscious.
-
- “Q. Was the man you saw tall or short, little or big?
-
- “A. I only saw a shadow which appeared to me formidable.
-
- “Q. You cannot give us any indication?
-
- “A. I know nothing more, monsieur, than that a man threw himself
- upon me and that I fired at him. I know nothing more.”
- </pre>
- <p>
- Here the interrogation of Mademoiselle Stangerson concluded.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille waited patiently for Monsieur Robert Darzac, who soon
- appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- From a room near the chamber of Mademoiselle Stangerson, he had heard the
- interrogatory and now came to recount it to my friend with great
- exactitude, aided by an excellent memory. His docility still surprised me.
- Thanks to hasty pencil-notes, he was able to reproduce, almost textually,
- the questions and the answers given.
- </p>
- <p>
- It looked as if Monsieur Darzac were being employeed as the secretary of my
- young friend and acted as if he could refuse him nothing; nay, more, as if
- under a compulsion to do so.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact of the closed window struck the reporter as it had struck the
- magistrate. Rouletabille asked Darzac to repeat once more Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s account of how she and her father had spent their time on the
- day of the tragedy, as she had stated it to the magistrate. The
- circumstance of the dinner in the laboratory seemed to interest him in the
- highest degree; and he had it repeated to him three times. He also wanted
- to be sure that the forest-keeper knew that the professor and his daughter
- were going to dine in the laboratory, and how he had come to know it.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Monsieur Darzac had finished, I said: “The examination has not
- advanced the problem much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has put it back,” said Monsieur Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has thrown light upon it,” said Rouletabille, thoughtfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX. Reporter and Detective
- </h2>
- <p>
- The three of us went back towards the pavilion. At some distance from the
- building the reporter made us stop and, pointing to a small clump of trees
- to the right of us, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s where the murderer came from to get into the pavilion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- As there were other patches of trees of the same sort between the great
- oaks, I asked why the murderer had chosen that one, rather than any of the
- others. Rouletabille answered me by pointing to the path which ran quite
- close to the thicket to the door of the pavilion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That path is as you see, topped with gravel,” he said; “the man must have
- passed along it going to the pavilion, since no traces of his steps have
- been found on the soft ground. The man didn’t have wings; he walked; but
- he walked on the gravel which left no impression of his tread. The gravel
- has, in fact, been trodden by many other feet, since the path is the most
- direct way between the pavilion and the chateau. As to the thicket, made
- of the sort of shrubs that don’t flourish in the rough season—laurels
- and fuchsias—it offered the murderer a sufficient hiding-place until
- it was time for him to make his way to the pavilion. It was while hiding
- in that clump of trees that he saw Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson,
- and then Daddy Jacques, leave the pavilion. Gravel has been spread nearly,
- very nearly, up to the windows of the pavilion. The footprints of a man,
- parallel with the wall—marks which we will examine presently, and
- which I have already seen—prove that he only needed to make one
- stride to find himself in front of the vestibule window, left open by
- Daddy Jacques. The man drew himself up by his hands and entered the
- vestibule.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “After all it is very possible,” I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “After all what? After all what?” cried Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- I begged of him not to be angry; but he was too much irritated to listen
- to me and declared, ironically, that he admired the prudent doubt with
- which certain people approached the most simple problems, risking nothing
- by saying “that is so, or ‘that is not so.” Their intelligence would have
- produced about the same result if nature had forgotten to furnish their
- brain-pan with a little grey matter. As I appeared vexed, my young friend
- took me by the arm and admitted that he had not meant that for me; he
- thought more of me than that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I did not reason as I do in regard to this gravel,” he went on, “I
- should have to assume a balloon!—My dear fellow, the science of the
- aerostation of dirigible balloons is not yet developed enough for me to
- consider it and suppose that a murderer would drop from the clouds! So
- don’t say a thing is possible, when it could not be otherwise. We know now
- how the man entered by the window, and we also know the moment at which he
- entered,—during the five o’clock walk of the professor and his
- daughter. The fact of the presence of the chambermaid—who had come
- to clean up “The Yellow Room”—in the laboratory, when Monsieur
- Stangerson and his daughter returned from their walk, at half-past one,
- permits us to affirm that at half-past one the murderer was not in the
- chamber under the bed, unless he was in collusion with the chambermaid.
- What do you say, Monsieur Darzac?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac shook his head and said he was sure of the chambermaid’s
- fidelity, and that she was a thoroughly honest and devoted servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Besides,” he added, “at five o’clock Monsieur Stangerson went into the
- room to fetch his daughter’s hat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is that also,” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That the man entered by the window at the time you say, I admit,” I said;
- “but why did he shut the window? It was an act which would necessarily
- draw the attention of those who had left it open.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It may be the window was not shut at once,” replied the young reporter.
- “But if he did shut the window, it was because of the bend in the gravel
- path, a dozen yards from the pavilion, and on account of the three oaks
- that are growing at that spot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean by that?” asked Monsieur Darzac, who had followed us and
- listened with almost breathless attention to all that Rouletabille had
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll explain all to you later on, Monsieur, when I think the moment to be
- ripe for doing so; but I don’t think I have anything of more importance to
- say on this affair, if my hypothesis is justified.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is your hypothesis?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will never know if it does not turn out to be the truth. It is of
- much too grave a nature to speak of it, so long as it continues to be only
- a hypothesis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you, at least, some idea as to who the murderer is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, monsieur, I don’t know who the murderer is; but don’t be afraid,
- Monsieur Robert Darzac—I shall know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I could not but observe that Monsieur Darzac was deeply moved; and I
- suspected that Rouletabille’s confident assertion was not pleasing to him.
- Why, I asked myself, if he was really afraid that the murderer should be
- discovered, was he helping the reporter to find him? My young friend
- seemed to have received the same impression, for he said, bluntly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Darzac, don’t you want me to find out who the murderer was?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!—I should like to kill him with my own hand!” cried Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s fiance, with a vehemence that amazed me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe you,” said Rouletabille gravely; “but you have not answered my
- question.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We were passing by the thicket, of which the young reporter had spoken to
- us a minute before. I entered it and pointed out evident traces of a man
- who had been hidden there. Rouletabille, once more, was right.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes!” he said. “We have to do with a thing of flesh and blood, who
- uses the same means that we do. It’ll all come out on those lines.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Having said this, he asked me for the paper pattern of the footprint which
- he had given me to take care of, and applied it to a very clear footmark
- behind the thicket. “Aha!” he said, rising.
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought he was now going to trace back the track of the murderer’s
- footmarks to the vestibule window; but he led us instead, far to the left,
- saying that it was useless ferreting in the mud, and that he was sure,
- now, of the road taken by the murderer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He went along the wall to the hedge and dry ditch, over which he jumped.
- See, just in front of the little path leading to the lake, that was his
- nearest way to get out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know he went to the lake?”—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because Frederic Larsan has not quitted the borders of it since this
- morning. There must be some important marks there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A few minutes later we reached the lake.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a little sheet of marshy water, surrounded by reeds, on which
- floated some dead water-lily leaves. The great Fred may have seen us
- approaching, but we probably interested him very little, for he took
- hardly any notice of us and continued to be stirring with his cane
- something which we could not see.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look!” said Rouletabille, “here again are the footmarks of the escaping
- man; they skirt the lake here and finally disappear just before this path,
- which leads to the high road to Epinay. The man continued his flight to
- Paris.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What makes you think that?” I asked, “since these footmarks are not
- continued on the path?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What makes me think that?—Why these footprints, which I expected to
- find!” he cried, pointing to the sharply outlined imprint of a neat boot.
- “See!”—and he called to Frederic Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Fred, these neat footprints seem to have been made since the
- discovery of the crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, young man, yes, they have been carefully made,” replied Fred without
- raising his head. “You see, there are steps that come, and steps that go
- back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the man had a bicycle!” cried the reporter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here, after looking at the marks of the bicycle, which followed, going and
- coming, the neat footprints, I thought I might intervene.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The bicycle explains the disappearance of the murderer’s big
- foot-prints,” I said. “The murderer, with his rough boots, mounted a
- bicycle. His accomplice, the wearer of the neat boots, had come to wait
- for him on the edge of the lake with the bicycle. It might be supposed
- that the murderer was working for the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no!” replied Rouletabille with a strange smile. “I have expected to
- find these footmarks from the very beginning. These are not the footmarks
- of the murderer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then there were two?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—there was but one, and he had no accomplice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very good!—Very good!” cried Frederic Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look!” continued the young reporter, showing us the ground where it had
- been disturbed by big and heavy heels; “the man seated himself there, and
- took off his hobnailed boots, which he had worn only for the purpose of
- misleading detection, and then no doubt, taking them away with him, he
- stood up in his own boots, and quietly and slowly regained the high road,
- holding his bicycle in his hand, for he could not venture to ride it on
- this rough path. That accounts for the lightness of the impression made by
- the wheels along it, in spite of the softness of the ground. If there had
- been a man on the bicycle, the wheels would have sunk deeply into the
- soil. No, no; there was but one man there, the murderer on foot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bravo!—bravo!” cried Fred again, and coming suddenly towards us
- and, planting himself in front of Monsieur Robert Darzac, he said to him:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we had a bicycle here, we might demonstrate the correctness of the
- young man’s reasoning, Monsieur Robert Darzac. Do you know whether there
- is one at the chateau?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” replied Monsieur Darzac. “There is not. I took mine, four days ago,
- to Paris, the last time I came to the chateau before the crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a pity!” replied Fred, very coldly. Then, turning to Rouletabille,
- he said: “If we go on at this rate, we’ll both come to the same
- conclusion. Have you any idea, as to how the murderer got away from The
- Yellow Room?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said my young friend; “I have an idea.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So have I,” said Fred, “and it must be the same as yours. There are no
- two ways of reasoning in this affair. I am waiting for the arrival of my
- chief before offering any explanation to the examining magistrate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Is the Chief of the Surete coming?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, this afternoon. He is going to summon, before the magistrate, in the
- laboratory, all those who have played any part in this tragedy. It will be
- very interesting. It is a pity you won’t be able to be present.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall be present,” said Rouletabille confidently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really—you are an extraordinary fellow—for your age!” replied
- the detective in a tone not wholly free from irony. “You’d make a
- wonderful detective—if you had a little more method—if you
- didn’t follow your instincts and that bump on your forehead. As I have
- already several times observed, Monsieur Rouletabille, you reason too
- much; you do not allow yourself to be guided by what you have seen. What
- do you say to the handkerchief full of blood, and the red mark of the hand
- on the wall? You have seen the stain on the wall, but I have only seen the
- handkerchief.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bah!” cried Rouletabille, “the murderer was wounded in the hand by
- Mademoiselle Stangerson’s revolver!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!—a simply instinctive observation! Take care!—You are
- becoming too strictly logical, Monsieur Rouletabille; logic will upset you
- if you use it indiscriminately. You are right, when you say that
- Mademoiselle Stangerson fired her revolver, but you are wrong when you say
- that she wounded the murderer in the hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure of it,” cried Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred, imperturbable, interrupted him:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Defective observation—defective observation!—the examination
- of the handkerchief, the numberless little round scarlet stains, the
- impression of drops which I found in the tracks of the footprints, at the
- moment when they were made on the floor, prove to me that the murderer was
- not wounded at all. Monsieur Rouletabille, the murderer bled at the nose!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The great Fred spoke quite seriously. However, I could not refrain from
- uttering an exclamation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter looked gravely at Fred, who looked gravely at him. And Fred
- immediately concluded:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The man allowed the blood to flow into his hand and handkerchief, and
- dried his hand on the wall. The fact is highly important,” he added,
- “because there is no need of his being wounded in the hand for him to be
- the murderer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille seemed to be thinking deeply. After a moment he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is something—a something, Monsieur Frederic Larsan, much
- graver than the misuse of logic the disposition of mind in some detectives
- which makes them, in perfect good faith, twist logic to the necessities of
- their preconceived ideas. You, already, have your idea about the murderer,
- Monsieur Fred. Don’t deny it; and your theory demands that the murderer
- should not have been wounded in the hand, otherwise it comes to nothing.
- And you have searched, and have found something else. It’s dangerous, very
- dangerous, Monsieur Fred, to go from a preconceived idea to find the
- proofs to fit it. That method may lead you far astray Beware of judicial
- error, Monsieur Fred, it will trip you up!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And laughing a little, in a slightly bantering tone, his hands in his
- pockets, Rouletabille fixed his cunning eyes on the great Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederic Larsan silently contemplated the young reporter who pretended to
- be as wise as himself. Shrugging his shoulders, he bowed to us and moved
- quickly away, hitting the stones on his path with his stout cane.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille watched his retreat, and then turned toward us, his face
- joyous and triumphant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall beat him!” he cried. “I shall beat the great Fred, clever as he
- is; I shall beat them all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he danced a double shuffle. Suddenly he stopped. My eyes followed his
- gaze; they were fixed on Monsieur Robert Darzac, who was looking anxiously
- at the impression left by his feet side by side with the elegant
- footmarks. There was not a particle of difference between them!
- </p>
- <p>
- We thought he was about to faint. His eyes, bulging with terror, avoided
- us, while his right hand, with a spasmodic movement, twitched at the beard
- that covered his honest, gentle, and now despairing face. At length
- regaining his self-possession, he bowed to us, and remarking, in a changed
- voice, that he was obliged to return to the chateau, left us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The deuce!” exclaimed Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- He, also, appeared to be deeply concerned. From his pocket-book he took a
- piece of white paper as I had seen him do before, and with his scissors,
- cut out the shape of the neat bootmarks that were on the ground. Then he
- fitted the new paper pattern with the one he had previously made—the
- two were exactly alike. Rising, Rouletabille exclaimed again: “The deuce!”
- Presently he added: “Yet I believe Monsieur Robert Darzac to be an honest
- man.” He then led me on the road to the Donjon Inn, which we could see on
- the highway, by the side of a small clump of trees.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X. “We Shall Have to Eat Red Meat—Now”
- </h2>
- <p>
- The Donjon Inn was of no imposing appearance; but I like these buildings
- with their rafters blackened with age and the smoke of their hearths—these
- inns of the coaching-days, crumbling erections that will soon exist in the
- memory only. They belong to the bygone days, they are linked with history.
- They make us think of the Road, of those days when highwaymen rode.
- </p>
- <p>
- I saw at once that the Donjon Inn was at least two centuries old—perhaps
- older. Under its sign-board, over the threshold, a man with a
- crabbed-looking face was standing, seemingly plunged in unpleasant
- thought, if the wrinkles on his forehead and the knitting of his brows
- were any indication.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we were close to him, he deigned to see us and asked us, in a tone
- anything but engaging, whether we wanted anything. He was, no doubt, the
- not very amiable landlord of this charming dwelling-place. As we expressed
- a hope that he would be good enough to furnish us with a breakfast, he
- assured us that he had no provisions, regarding us, as he said this, with
- a look that was unmistakably suspicious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may take us in,” Rouletabille said to him, “we are not policemen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m not afraid of the police—I’m not afraid of anyone!” replied the
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had made my friend understand by a sign that we should do better not to
- insist; but, being determined to enter the inn, he slipped by the man on
- the doorstep and was in the common room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come on,” he said, “it is very comfortable here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A good fire was blazing in the chimney, and we held our hands to the
- warmth it sent out; it was a morning in which the approach of winter was
- unmistakable. The room was a tolerably large one, furnished with two heavy
- tables, some stools, a counter decorated with rows of bottles of syrup and
- alcohol. Three windows looked out on to the road. A coloured advertisement
- lauded the many merits of a new vermouth. On the mantelpiece was arrayed
- the innkeeper’s collection of figured earthenware pots and stone jugs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a fine fire for roasting a chicken,” said Rouletabille. “We have
- no chicken—not even a wretched rabbit,” said the landlord.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know,” said my friend slowly; “I know—We shall have to eat red
- meat—now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I confess I did not in the least understand what Rouletabille meant by
- what he had said; but the landlord, as soon as he heard the words, uttered
- an oath, which he at once stifled, and placed himself at our orders as
- obediently as Monsieur Robert Darzac had done, when he heard
- Rouletabille’s prophetic sentence—“The presbytery has lost nothing
- of its charm, nor the garden its brightness.” Certainly my friend knew how
- to make people understand him by the use of wholly incomprehensible
- phrases. I observed as much to him, but he merely smiled. I should have
- proposed that he give me some explanation; but he put a finger to his
- lips, which evidently signified that he had not only determined not to
- speak, but also enjoined silence on my part.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meantime the man had pushed open a little side door and called to somebody
- to bring him half a dozen eggs and a piece of beefsteak. The commission
- was quickly executed by a strongly-built young woman with beautiful blonde
- hair and large, handsome eyes, who regarded us with curiosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- The innkeeper said to her roughly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get out!—and if the Green Man comes, don’t let me see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She disappeared. Rouletabille took the eggs, which had been brought to him
- in a bowl, and the meat which was on a dish, placed all carefully beside
- him in the chimney, unhooked a frying-pan and a gridiron, and began to
- beat up our omelette before proceeding to grill our beefsteak. He then
- ordered two bottles of cider, and seemed to take as little notice of our
- host as our host did of him. The landlord let us do our own cooking and
- set our table near one of the windows.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly I heard him mutter:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!—there he is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His face had changed, expressing fierce hatred. He went and glued himself
- to one of the windows, watching the road. There was no need for me to draw
- Rouletabille’s attention; he had already left our omelette and had joined
- the landlord at the window. I went with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- A man dressed entirely in green velvet, his head covered with a huntsman’s
- cap of the same colour, was advancing leisurely, lighting a pipe as he
- walked. He carried a fowling-piece slung at his back. His movements
- displayed an almost aristocratic ease. He wore eye-glasses and appeared to
- be about five and forty years of age. His hair as well as his moustache
- were salt grey. He was remarkably handsome. As he passed near the inn, he
- hesitated, as if asking himself whether or no he should enter it; gave a
- glance towards us, took a few whiffs at his pipe, and then resumed his
- walk at the same nonchalant pace.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille and I looked at our host. His flashing eyes, his clenched
- hands, his trembling lips, told us of the tumultuous feelings by which he
- was being agitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has done well not to come in here to-day!” he hissed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is that man?” asked Rouletabille, returning to his omelette.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Green Man,” growled the innkeeper. “Don’t you know him? Then all the
- better for you. He is not an acquaintance to make.—Well, he is
- Monsieur Stangerson’s forest-keeper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t appear to like him very much?” asked the reporter, pouring his
- omelette into the frying-pan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobody likes him, monsieur. He’s an upstart who must once have had a
- fortune of his own; and he forgives nobody because, in order to live, he
- has been compelled to become a servant. A keeper is as much a servant as
- any other, isn’t he? Upon my word, one would say that he is the master of
- the Glandier, and that all the land and woods belong to him. He’ll not let
- a poor creature eat a morsel of bread on the grass—his grass!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does he often come here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Too often. But I’ve made him understand that his face doesn’t please me,
- and, for a month past, he hasn’t been here. The Donjon Inn has never
- existed for him!—he hasn’t had time!—been too much engaged in
- paying court to the landlady of the Three Lilies at Saint-Michel. A bad
- fellow!—There isn’t an honest man who can bear him. Why, the
- concierges of the chateau would turn their eyes away from a picture of
- him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The concierges of the chateau are honest people, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, they are, as true as my name’s Mathieu, monsieur. I believe them to
- be honest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet they’ve been arrested?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does that prove?—But I don’t want to mix myself up in other
- people’s affairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what do you think of the murder?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of the murder of poor Mademoiselle Stangerson?—A good girl much
- loved everywhere in the country. That’s what I think of it—and many
- things besides; but that’s nobody’s business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not even mine?” insisted Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- The innkeeper looked at him sideways and said gruffly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not even yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The omelette ready, we sat down at table and were silently eating, when
- the door was pushed open and an old woman, dressed in rags, leaning on a
- stick, her head doddering, her white hair hanging loosely over her
- wrinkled forehead, appeared on the threshold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!—there you are, Mother Angenoux!—It’s long since we saw
- you last,” said our host.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been very ill, very nearly dying,” said the old woman. “If ever
- you should have any scraps for the Bete du Bon Dieu—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she entered, followed by a cat, larger than any I had ever believed
- could exist. The beast looked at us and gave so hopeless a miau that I
- shuddered. I had never heard so lugubrious a cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- As if drawn by the cat’s cry a man followed the old woman in. It was the
- Green Man. He saluted by raising his hand to his cap and seated himself at
- a table near to ours.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A glass of cider, Daddy Mathieu,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the Green Man entered, Daddy Mathieu had started violently; but visibly
- mastering himself he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve no more cider; I served the last bottles to these gentlemen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then give me a glass of white wine,” said the Green Man, without showing
- the least surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve no more white wine—no more anything,” said Daddy Mathieu,
- surlily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is Madame Mathieu?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite well, thank you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So the young Woman with the large, tender eyes, whom we had just seen, was
- the wife of this repugnant and brutal rustic, whose jealousy seemed to
- emphasise his physical ugliness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Slamming the door behind him, the innkeeper left the room. Mother Angenoux
- was still standing, leaning on her stick, the cat at her feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve been ill, Mother Angenoux?—Is that why we have not seen you
- for the last week?” asked the Green Man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur keeper. I have been able to get up but three times, to go
- to pray to Sainte-Genevieve, our good patroness, and the rest of the time
- I have been lying on my bed. There was no one to care for me but the Bete
- du bon Dieu!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did she not leave you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neither by day nor by night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you sure of that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As I am of Paradise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then how was it, Madame Angenoux, that all through the night of the
- murder nothing but the cry of the Bete du bon Dieu was heard?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mother Angenoux planted herself in front of the forest-keeper and struck
- the floor with her stick.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know anything about it,” she said. “But shall I tell you
- something? There are no two cats in the world that cry like that. Well, on
- the night of the murder I also heard the cry of the Bete du bon Dieu
- outside; and yet she was on my knees, and did not mew once, I swear. I
- crossed myself when I heard that, as if I had heard the devil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked at the keeper when he put the last question, and I am much
- mistaken if I did not detect an evil smile on his lips. At that moment,
- the noise of loud quarrelling reached us. We even thought we heard a dull
- sound of blows, as if some one was being beaten. The Green Man quickly
- rose and hurried to the door by the side of the fireplace; but it was
- opened by the landlord who appeared, and said to the keeper:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t alarm yourself, Monsieur—it is my wife; she has the
- toothache.” And he laughed. “Here, Mother Angenoux, here are some scraps
- for your cat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held out a packet to the old woman, who took it eagerly and went out by
- the door, closely followed by her cat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you won’t serve me?” asked the Green Man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Mathieu’s face was placid and no longer retained its expression of
- hatred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve nothing for you—nothing for you. Take yourself off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Green Man quietly refilled his pipe, lit it, bowed to us, and went
- out. No sooner was he over the threshold than Daddy Mathieu slammed the
- door after him and, turning towards us, with eyes bloodshot, and frothing
- at the mouth, he hissed to us, shaking his clenched fist at the door he
- had just shut on the man he evidently hated:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know who you are who tell me ‘We shall have to eat red meat—now’;
- but if it will interest you to know it—that man is the murderer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- With which words Daddy Mathieu immediately left us. Rouletabille returned
- towards the fireplace and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now we’ll grill our steak. How do you like the cider?—It’s a little
- tart, but I like it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We saw no more of Daddy Mathieu that day, and absolute silence reigned in
- the inn when we left it, after placing five francs on the table in payment
- for our feast.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille at once set off on a three mile walk round Professor
- Stangerson’s estate. He halted for some ten minutes at the corner of a
- narrow road black with soot, near to some charcoal-burners’ huts in the
- forest of Sainte-Genevieve, which touches on the road from Epinay to
- Corbeil, to tell me that the murderer had certainly passed that way,
- before entering the grounds and concealing himself in the little clump of
- trees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t think, then, that the keeper knows anything of it?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We shall see that, later,” he replied. “For the present I’m not
- interested in what the landlord said about the man. The landlord hates
- him. I didn’t take you to breakfast at the Donjon Inn for the sake of the
- Green Man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Rouletabille, with great precaution glided, followed by me, towards
- the little building which, standing near the park gate, served for the
- home of the concierges, who had been arrested that morning. With the skill
- of an acrobat, he got into the lodge by an upper window which had been
- left open, and returned ten minutes later. He said only, “Ah!”—a
- word which, in his mouth, signified many things.
- </p>
- <p>
- We were about to take the road leading to the chateau, when a considerable
- stir at the park gate attracted our attention. A carriage had arrived and
- some people had come from the chateau to meet it. Rouletabille pointed out
- to me a gentleman who descended from it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the Chief of the Surete” he said. “Now we shall see what Frederic
- Larsan has up his sleeve, and whether he is so much cleverer than anybody
- else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The carriage of the Chief of the Surete was followed by three other
- vehicles containing reporters, who were also desirous of entering the
- park. But two gendarmes stationed at the gate had evidently received
- orders to refuse admission to anybody. The Chief of the Surete calmed
- their impatience by undertaking to furnish to the press, that evening, all
- the information he could give that would not interfere with the judicial
- inquiry.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI. In Which Frederic Larsan Explains How the Murderer Was Able to
- Get Out of “The Yellow Room”
- </h2>
- <p>
- Among the mass of papers, legal documents, memoirs, and extracts from
- newspapers, which I have collected, relating to the mystery of The Yellow
- Room, there is one very interesting piece; it is a detail of the famous
- examination which took place that afternoon, in the laboratory of
- Professor Stangerson, before the Chief of the Surete. This narrative is
- from the pen of Monsieur Maleine, the Registrar, who, like the examining
- magistrate, had spent some of his leisure time in the pursuit of
- literature. The piece was to have made part of a book which, however, has
- never been published, and which was to have been entitled: “My
- Examinations.” It was given to me by the Registrar himself, some time
- after the astonishing denouement to this case, and is unique in judicial
- chronicles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here it is. It is not a mere dry transcription of questions and answers,
- because the Registrar often intersperses his story with his own personal
- comments.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- THE REGISTRAR’S NARRATIVE
-</pre>
- <p>
- The examining magistrate and I (the writer relates) found ourselves in The
- Yellow Room in the company of the builder who had constructed the pavilion
- after Professor Stangerson’s designs. He had a workman with him. Monsieur
- de Marquet had had the walls laid entirely bare; that is to say, he had
- had them stripped of the paper which had decorated them. Blows with a
- pick, here and there, satisfied us of the absence of any sort of opening.
- The floor and the ceiling were thoroughly sounded. We found nothing. There
- was nothing to be found. Monsieur de Marquet appeared to be delighted and
- never ceased repeating:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a case! What a case! We shall never know, you’ll see, how the
- murderer was able to get out of this room!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then suddenly, with a radiant face, he called to the officer in charge of
- the gendarmes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go to the chateau,” he said, “and request Monsieur Stangerson and
- Monsieur Robert Darzac to come to me in the laboratory, also Daddy
- Jacques; and let your men bring here the two concierges.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Five minutes later all were assembled in the laboratory. The Chief of the
- Surete, who had arrived at the Glandier, joined us at that moment. I was
- seated at Monsieur Stangerson’s desk ready for work, when Monsieur de
- Marquet made us the following little speech—as original as it was
- unexpected:
- </p>
- <p>
- “With your permission, gentlemen—as examinations lead to nothing—we
- will, for once, abandon the old system of interrogation. I will not have
- you brought before me one by one, but we will all remain here as we are,—Monsieur
- Stangerson, Monsieur Robert Darzac, Daddy Jacques and the two concierges,
- the Chief of the Surete, the Registrar, and myself. We shall all be on the
- same footing. The concierges may, for the moment, forget that they have
- been arrested. We are going to confer together. We are on the spot where
- the crime was committed. We have nothing else to discuss but the crime. So
- let us discuss it freely—intelligently or otherwise, so long as we
- speak just what is in our minds. There need be no formality or method
- since this won’t help us in any way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, passing before me, he said in a low voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think of that, eh? What a scene! Could you have thought of
- that? I’ll make a little piece out of it for the Vaudeville.” And he
- rubbed his hands with glee.
- </p>
- <p>
- I turned my eyes on Monsieur Stangerson. The hope he had received from the
- doctor’s latest reports, which stated that Mademoiselle Stangerson might
- recover from her wounds, had not been able to efface from his noble
- features the marks of the great sorrow that was upon him. He had believed
- his daughter to be dead, and he was still broken by that belief. His
- clear, soft, blue eyes expressed infinite sorrow. I had had occasion, many
- times, to see Monsieur Stangerson at public ceremonies, and from the first
- had been struck by his countenance, which seemed as pure as that of a
- child—the dreamy gaze with the sublime and mystical expression of
- the inventor and thinker.
- </p>
- <p>
- On those occasions his daughter was always to be seen either following him
- or by his side; for they never quitted each other, it was said, and had
- shared the same labours for many years. The young lady, who was then five
- and thirty, though she looked no more than thirty, had devoted herself
- entirely to science. She still won admiration for her imperial beauty
- which had remained intact, without a wrinkle, withstanding time and love.
- Who would have dreamed that I should one day be seated by her pillow with
- my papers, and that I should see her, on the point of death, painfully
- recounting to us the most monstrous and most mysterious crime I have heard
- of in my career? Who would have thought that I should be, that afternoon,
- listening to the despairing father vainly trying to explain how his
- daughter’s assailant had been able to escape from him? Why bury ourselves
- with our work in obscure retreats in the depths of woods, if it may not
- protect us against those dangerous threats to life which meet us in the
- busy cities?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Monsieur Stangerson,” said Monsieur de Marquet, with somewhat of an
- important air, “place yourself exactly where you were when Mademoiselle
- Stangerson left you to go to her chamber.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Stangerson rose and, standing at a certain distance from the door
- of “The Yellow Room”, said, in an even voice and without the least trace of
- emphasis—a voice which I can only describe as a dead voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was here. About eleven o’clock, after I had made a brief chemical
- experiment at the furnaces of the laboratory, needing all the space behind
- me, I had my desk moved here by Daddy Jacques, who spent the evening in
- cleaning some of my apparatus. My daughter had been working at the same
- desk with me. When it was her time to leave she rose, kissed me, and bade
- Daddy Jacques goodnight. She had to pass behind my desk and the door to
- enter her chamber, and she could do this only with some difficulty. That
- is to say, I was very near the place where the crime occurred later.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the desk?” I asked, obeying, in thus mixing myself in the
- conversation, the express orders of my chief, “as soon as you heard the
- cry of ‘murder’ followed by the revolver shots, what became of the desk?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Jacques answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We pushed it back against the wall, here—close to where it is at
- the present moment—so as to be able to get at the door at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I followed up my reasoning, to which, however, I attached but little
- importance, regarding it as only a weak hypothesis, with another question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Might not a man in the room, the desk being so near to the door, by
- stooping and slipping under the desk, have left it unobserved?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are forgetting,” interrupted Monsieur Stangerson wearily, “that my
- daughter had locked and bolted her door, that the door had remained
- fastened, that we vainly tried to force it open when we heard the noise,
- and that we were at the door while the struggle between the murderer and
- my poor child was going on—immediately after we heard her stifled
- cries as she was being held by the fingers that have left their red mark
- upon her throat. Rapid as the attack was, we were no less rapid in our
- endeavors to get into the room where the tragedy was taking place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I rose from my seat and once more examined the door with the greatest
- care. Then I returned to my place with a despairing gesture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the lower panel of the door,” I said, “could be removed without the
- whole door being necessarily opened, the problem would be solved. But,
- unfortunately, that last hypothesis is untenable after an examination of
- the door—it’s of oak, solid and massive. You can see that quite
- plainly, in spite of the injury done in the attempt to burst it open.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” cried Daddy Jacques, “it is an old and solid door that was brought
- from the chateau—they don’t make such doors now. We had to use this
- bar of iron to get it open, all four of us—for the concierge, brave
- woman she is, helped us. It pains me to find them both in prison now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Jacques had no sooner uttered these words of pity and protestation
- than tears and lamentations broke out from the concierges. I never saw two
- accused people crying more bitterly. I was extremely disgusted. Even if
- they were innocent, I could not understand how they could behave like that
- in the face of misfortune. A dignified bearing at such times is better
- than tears and groans, which, most often, are feigned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now then, enough of that sniveling,” cried Monsieur de Marquet; “and, in
- your interest, tell us what you were doing under the windows of the
- pavilion at the time your mistress was being attacked; for you were close
- to the pavilion when Daddy Jacques met you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We were coming to help!” they whined.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we could only lay hands on the murderer, he’d never taste bread
- again!” the woman gurgled between her sobs.
- </p>
- <p>
- As before we were unable to get two connecting thoughts out of them. They
- persisted in their denials and swore, by heaven and all the saints, that
- they were in bed when they heard the sound of the revolver shot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was not one, but two shots that were fired!—You see, you are
- lying. If you had heard one, you would have heard the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mon Dieu! Monsieur—it was the second shot we heard. We were asleep
- when the first shot was fired.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Two shots were fired,” said Daddy Jacques. “I am certain that all the
- cartridges were in my revolver. We found afterward that two had been
- exploded, and we heard two shots behind the door. Was not that so,
- Monsieur Stangerson?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” replied the Professor, “there were two shots, one dull, and the
- other sharp and ringing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why do you persist in lying?” cried Monsieur de Marquet, turning to the
- concierges. “Do you think the police are the fools you are? Everything
- points to the fact that you were out of doors and near the pavilion at the
- time of the tragedy. What were you doing there? So far as I am concerned,”
- he said, turning to Monsieur Stangerson, “I can only explain the escape of
- the murderer on the assumption of help from these two accomplices. As soon
- as the door was forced open, and while you, Monsieur Stangerson, were
- occupied with your unfortunate child, the concierge and his wife
- facilitated the flight of the murderer, who, screening himself behind
- them, reached the window in the vestibule, and sprang out of it into the
- park. The concierge closed the window after him and fastened the blinds,
- which certainly could not have closed and fastened of themselves. That is
- the conclusion I have arrived at. If anyone here has any other idea, let
- him state it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Stangerson intervened:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What you say was impossible. I do not believe either in the guilt or in
- the connivance of my concierges, though I cannot understand what they were
- doing in the park at that late hour of the night. I say it was impossible,
- because Madame Bernier held the lamp and did not move from the threshold
- of the room; because I, as soon as the door was forced open, threw myself
- on my knees beside my daughter, and no one could have left or entered the
- room by the door, without passing over her body and forcing his way by me!
- Daddy Jacques and the concierge had but to cast a glance round the chamber
- and under the bed, as I had done on entering, to see that there was nobody
- in it but my daughter lying on the floor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think, Monsieur Darzac?” asked the magistrate.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac replied that he had no opinion to express. Monsieur Dax,
- the Chief of the Surete who, so far, had been listening and examining the
- room, at length deigned to open his lips:
- </p>
- <p>
- “While search is being made for the criminal, we had better try to find
- out the motive for the crime; that will advance us a little,” he said.
- Turning towards Monsieur Stangerson, he continued, in the even,
- intelligent tone indicative of a strong character, “I understand that
- Mademoiselle was shortly to have been married?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The professor looked sadly at Monsieur Robert Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To my friend here, whom I should have been happy to call my son—to
- Monsieur Robert Darzac.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson is much better and is rapidly recovering from her
- wounds. The marriage is simply delayed, is it not, Monsieur?” insisted the
- Chief of the Surete.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope so.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! Is there any doubt about that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Stangerson did not answer. Monsieur Robert Darzac seemed
- agitated. I saw that his hand trembled as it fingered his watchchain.
- Monsieur Dax coughed, as did Monsieur de Marquet. Both were evidently
- embarrassed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You understand, Monsieur Stangerson,” he said, “that in an affair so
- perplexing as this, we cannot neglect anything; we must know all, even the
- smallest and seemingly most futile thing concerning the victim—information
- apparently the most insignificant. Why do you doubt that this marriage
- will take place? You expressed a hope; but the hope implies a doubt. Why
- do you doubt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Stangerson made a visible effort to recover himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur,” he said at length, “you are right. It will be best that
- you should know something which, if I concealed it, might appear to be of
- importance; Monsieur Darzac agrees with me in this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac, whose pallor at that moment seemed to me to be altogether
- abnormal, made a sign of assent. I gathered he was unable to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to know then,” continued Monsieur Stangerson, “that my
- daughter has sworn never to leave me, and adheres firmly to her oath, in
- spite of all my prayers and all that I have argued to induce her to marry.
- We have known Monsieur Robert Darzac many years. He loves my child; and I
- believed that she loved him; because she only recently consented to this
- marriage which I desire with all my heart. I am an old man, Monsieur, and
- it was a happy hour to me when I knew that, after I had gone, she would
- have at her side, one who loved her and who would help her in continuing
- our common labours. I love and esteem Monsieur Darzac both for his
- greatness of heart and for his devotion to science. But, two days before
- the tragedy, for I know not what reason, my daughter declared to me that
- she would never marry Monsieur Darzac.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A dead silence followed Monsieur Stangerson’s words. It was a moment
- fraught with suspense.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did Mademoiselle give you any explanation,—did she tell you what
- her motive was?” asked Monsieur Dax.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She told me she was too old to marry—that she had waited too long.
- She said she had given much thought to the matter and while she had a
- great esteem, even affection, for Monsieur Darzac, she felt it would be
- better if things remained as they were. She would be happy, she said, to
- see the relations between ourselves and Monsieur Darzac become closer, but
- only on the understanding that there would be no more talk of marriage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is very strange!” muttered Monsieur Dax.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Strange!” repeated Monsieur de Marquet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll certainly not find the motive there, Monsieur Dax,” Monsieur
- Stangerson said with a cold smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In any case, the motive was not theft!” said the Chief impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! we are quite convinced of that!” cried the examining magistrate.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment the door of the laboratory opened and the officer in charge
- of the gendarmes entered and handed a card to the examining magistrate.
- Monsieur de Marquet read it and uttered a half angry exclamation:
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is really too much!” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” asked the Chief.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the card of a young reporter engaged on the ‘Epoque,’ a Monsieur
- Joseph Rouletabille. It has these words written on it: ‘One of the motives
- of the crime was robbery.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Chief smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,—young Rouletabille—I’ve heard of him he is considered
- rather clever. Let him come in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille was allowed to enter. I had made his
- acquaintance in the train that morning on the way to Epinay-sur-Orge. He
- had introduced himself almost against my wish into our compartment. I had
- better say at once that his manners, and the arrogance with which he
- assumed to know what was incomprehensible even to us, impressed him
- unfavourably on my mind. I do not like journalists. They are a class of
- writers to be avoided as the pest. They think that everything is
- permissible and they respect nothing. Grant them the least favour, allow
- them even to approach you, and you never can tell what annoyance they may
- give you. This one appears to be scarcely twenty years old, and the
- effrontery with which he dared to question us and discuss the matter with
- us made him particularly obnoxious to me. Besides, he had a way of
- expressing himself that left us guessing as to whether he was mocking us
- or not. I know quite well that the ‘Epoque’ is an influential paper with
- which it is well to be on good terms, but the paper ought not to allow
- itself to be represented by sneaking reporters.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille entered the laboratory, bowed to us, and
- waited for Monsieur de Marquet to ask him to explain his presence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You pretend, Monsieur, that you know the motive for the crime, and that
- that motive—in the face of all the evidence that has been
- forthcoming—was robbery?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Monsieur, I do not pretend that. I do not say that robbery was the
- motive for the crime, and I don’t believe it was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, what is the meaning of this card?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It means that robbery was one of the motives for the crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What leads you to think that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you will be good enough to accompany me, I will show you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man asked us to follow him into the vestibule, and we did. He
- led us towards the lavatory and begged Monsieur de Marquet to kneel beside
- him. This lavatory is lit by the glass door, and, when the door was open,
- the light which penetrated was sufficient to light it perfectly. Monsieur
- de Marquet and Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille knelt down on the threshold,
- and the young man pointed to a spot on the pavement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The stones of the lavatory have not been washed by Daddy Jacques for some
- time,” he said; “that can be seen by the layer of dust that covers them.
- Now, notice here, the marks of two large footprints and the black ash they
- left where they have been. That ash is nothing else than the charcoal dust
- that covers the path along which you must pass through the forest, in
- order to get directly from Epinay to the Glandier. You know there is a
- little village of charcoal-burners at that place, who make large
- quantities of charcoal. What the murderer did was to come here at midday,
- when there was nobody at the pavilion, and attempt his robbery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what robbery?—Where do you see any signs of robbery? What
- proves to you that a robbery has been committed?” we all cried at once.
- “What put me on the trace of it,” continued the journalist...
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was this?” interrupted Monsieur de Marquet, still on his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently,” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Monsieur de Marquet explained that there were on the dust of the
- pavement marks of two footsteps, as well as the impression, freshly-made,
- of a heavy rectangular parcel, the marks of the cord with which it had
- been fastened being easily distinguished.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have been here, then, Monsieur Rouletabille? I thought I had given
- orders to Daddy Jacques, who was left in charge of the pavilion, not to
- allow anybody to enter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t scold Daddy Jacques, I came here with Monsieur Robert Darzac.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,—Indeed!” exclaimed Monsieur de Marquet, disagreeably, casting a
- side-glance at Monsieur Darzac, who remained perfectly silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I saw the mark of the parcel by the side of the footprints, I had no
- doubt as to the robbery,” replied Monsieur Rouletabille. “The thief had
- not brought a parcel with him; he had made one here—a parcel with
- the stolen objects, no doubt; and he put it in this corner intending to
- take it away when the moment came for him to make his escape. He had also
- placed his heavy boots beside the parcel,—for, see—there are
- no marks of steps leading to the marks left by the boots, which were
- placed side by side. That accounts for the fact that the murderer left no
- trace of his steps when he fled from “The Yellow Room”, nor any in the
- laboratory, nor in the vestibule. After entering “The Yellow Room” in his
- boots, he took them off, finding them troublesome, or because he wished to
- make as little noise as possible. The marks made by him in going through
- the vestibule and the laboratory were subsequently washed out by Daddy
- Jacques. Having, for some reason or other, taken off his boots, the
- murderer carried them in his hand and placed them by the side of the
- parcel he had made,—by that time the robbery had been accomplished.
- The man then returned to “The Yellow Room” and slipped under the bed, where
- the mark of his body is perfectly visible on the floor and even on the
- mat, which has been slightly moved from its place and creased. Fragments
- of straw also, recently torn, bear witness to the murderer’s movements
- under the bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes,—we know all about that,” said Monsieur de Marquet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The robber had another motive for returning to hide under the bed,”
- continued the astonishing boy-journalist. “You might think that he was
- trying to hide himself quickly on seeing, through the vestibule window,
- Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson about to enter the pavilion. It would
- have been much easier for him to have climbed up to the attic and hidden
- there, waiting for an opportunity to get away, if his purpose had been
- only flight.—No! No!—he had to be in “The Yellow Room”.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here the Chief intervened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s not at all bad, young man. I compliment you. If we do not know yet
- how the murderer succeeded in getting away, we can at any rate see how he
- came in and committed the robbery. But what did he steal?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something very valuable,” replied the young reporter.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment we heard a cry from the laboratory. We rushed in and found
- Monsieur Stangerson, his eyes haggard, his limbs trembling, pointing to a
- sort of bookcase which he had opened, and which, we saw, was empty. At the
- same instant he sank into the large armchair that was placed before the
- desk and groaned, the tears rolling down his cheeks, “I have been robbed
- again! For God’s sake, do not say a word of this to my daughter. She would
- be more pained than I am.” He heaved a deep sigh and added, in a tone I
- shall never forget: “After all, what does it matter,—so long as she
- lives!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She will live!” said Monsieur Darzac, in a voice strangely touching.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And we will find the stolen articles,” said Monsieur Dax. “But what was
- in the cabinet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty years of my life,” replied the illustrious professor sadly, “or
- rather of our lives—the lives of myself and my daughter! Yes, our
- most precious documents, the records of our secret experiments and our
- labours of twenty years were in that cabinet. It is an irreparable loss to
- us and, I venture to say, to science. All the processes by which I had
- been able to arrive at the precious proof of the destructibility of matter
- were there—all. The man who came wished to take all from me,—my
- daughter and my work—my heart and my soul.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the great scientist wept like a child.
- </p>
- <p>
- We stood around him in silence, deeply affected by his great distress.
- Monsieur Darzac pressed closely to his side, and tried in vain to restrain
- his tears—a sight which, for the moment, almost made me like him, in
- spite of an instinctive repulsion which his strange demeanour and his
- inexplicable anxiety had inspired me.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Rouletabille alone,—as if his precious time and mission on
- earth did not permit him to dwell in the contemplation on human suffering—had,
- very calmly, stepped up to the empty cabinet and, pointing at it, broke
- the almost solemn silence. He entered into explanations, for which there
- was no need, as to why he had been led to believe that a robbery had been
- committed, which included the simultaneous discovery he had made in the
- lavatory, and the empty precious cabinet in the laboratory. The first
- thing that had struck him, he said, was the unusual form of that piece of
- furniture. It was very strongly built of fire-proof iron, clearly showing
- that it was intended for the keeping of most valuable objects. Then he
- noticed that the key had been left in the lock. “One does not ordinarily
- have a safe and leave it open!” he had said to himself. This little key,
- with its brass head and complicated wards, had strongly attracted him,—its
- presence had suggested robbery.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet appeared to be greatly perplexed, as if he did not
- know whether he ought to be glad of the new direction given to the inquiry
- by the young reporter, or sorry that it had not been done by himself. In
- our profession and for the general welfare, we have to put up with such
- mortifications and bury selfish feelings. That was why Monsieur de Marquet
- controlled himself and joined his compliments with those of Monsieur Dax.
- As for Monsieur Rouletabille, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said:
- “There’s nothing at all in that!” I should have liked to box his ears,
- especially when he added: “You will do well, Monsieur, to ask Monsieur
- Stangerson who usually kept that key?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My daughter,” replied Monsieur Stangerson, “she was never without it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! then that changes the aspect of things which no longer corresponds
- with Monsieur Rouletabille’s ideas!” cried Monsieur de Marquet. “If that
- key never left Mademoiselle Stangerson, the murderer must have waited for
- her in her room for the purpose of stealing it; and the robbery could not
- have been committed until after the attack had been made on her. But after
- the attack four persons were in the laboratory! I can’t make it out!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The robbery,” said the reporter, “could only have been committed before
- the attack upon Mademoiselle Stangerson in her room. When the murderer
- entered the pavilion he already possessed the brass-headed key.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is impossible,” said Monsieur Stangerson in a low voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is quite possible, Monsieur, as this proves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the young rascal drew a copy of the “Epoque” from his pocket, dated
- the 21st of October (I recall the fact that the crime was committed on the
- night between the 24th and 25th), and showing us an advertisement, he
- read:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Yesterday a black satin reticule was lost in the Grands Magasins de la
- Louvre. It contained, amongst other things, a small key with a brass head.
- A handsome reward will be given to the person who has found it. This
- person must write, poste restante, bureau 40, to this address: M. A. T. H.
- S. N.’ Do not these letters suggest Mademoiselle Stangerson?” continued
- the reporter. “The ‘key with a brass head’—is not this the key? I
- always read advertisements. In my business, as in yours, Monsieur, one
- should always read the personals.’ They are often the keys to intrigues,
- that are not always brass-headed, but which are none the less interesting.
- This advertisement interested me specially; the woman of the key
- surrounded it with a kind of mystery. Evidently she valued the key, since
- she promised a big reward for its restoration! And I thought on these six
- letters: M. A. T. H. S. N. The first four at once pointed to a Christian
- name; evidently I said Math is Mathilde. But I could make nothing of the
- two last letters. So I threw the journal aside and occupied myself with
- other matters. Four days later, when the evening paper appeared with
- enormous head-lines announcing the murder of Mademoiselle Stangerson, the
- letters in the advertisement mechanically recurred to me. I had forgotten
- the two last letters, S. N. When I saw them again I could not help
- exclaiming, ‘Stangerson!’ I jumped into a cab and rushed into the bureau
- No. 40, asking: ‘Have you a letter addressed to M. A. T. H. S. N.?’ The
- clerk replied that he had not. I insisted, begged and entreated him to
- search. He wanted to know if I were playing a joke on him, and then told
- me that he had had a letter with the initials M. A. T. H. S. N, but he had
- given it up three days ago, to a lady who came for it. ‘You come to-day to
- claim the letter, and the day before yesterday another gentleman claimed
- it! I’ve had enough of this,’ he concluded angrily. I tried to question
- him as to the two persons who had already claimed the letter; but whether
- he wished to entrench himself behind professional secrecy,—he may
- have thought that he had already said too much,—or whether he was
- disgusted at the joke that had been played on him—he would not
- answer any of my questions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille paused. We all remained silent. Each drew his own conclusions
- from the strange story of the poste restante letter. It seemed, indeed,
- that we now had a thread by means of which we should be able to follow up
- this extraordinary mystery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then it is almost certain,” said Monsieur Stangerson, “that my daughter
- did lose the key, and that she did not tell me of it, wishing to spare any
- anxiety, and that she begged whoever had found it to write to the poste
- restante. She evidently feared that, by giving our address, inquiries
- would have resulted that would have apprised me of the loss of the key. It
- was quite logical, quite natural for her to have taken that course—for
- I have been robbed once before.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where was that, and when?” asked the Chief of the Surete.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! many years ago, in America, in Philadelphia. There were stolen from
- my laboratory the drawings of two inventions that might have made the
- fortune of a man. Not only have I never learnt who the thief was, but I
- have never heard even a word of the object of the robbery, doubtless
- because, in order to defeat the plans of the person who had robbed me, I
- myself brought these two inventions before the public, and so rendered the
- robbery of no avail. From that time on I have been very careful to shut
- myself in when I am at work. The bars to these windows, the lonely
- situation of this pavilion, this cabinet, which I had specially
- constructed, this special lock, this unique key, all are precautions
- against fears inspired by a sad experience.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Most interesting!” remarked Monsieur Dax.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Rouletabille asked about the reticule. Neither Monsieur
- Stangerson nor Daddy Jacques had seen it for several days, but a few hours
- later we learned from Mademoiselle Stangerson herself that the reticule
- had either been stolen from her, or she had lost it. She further
- corroborated all that had passed just as her father had stated. She had
- gone to the poste restante and, on the 23rd of October, had received a
- letter which, she affirmed, contained nothing but a vulgar pleasantry,
- which she had immediately burned.
- </p>
- <p>
- To return to our examination, or rather to our conversation. I must state
- that the Chief of the Surete having inquired of Monsieur Stangerson under
- what conditions his daughter had gone to Paris on the 20th of October, we
- learned that Monsieur Robert Darzac had accompanied her, and Darzac had
- not been again seen at the chateau from that time to the day after the
- crime had been committed. The fact that Monsieur Darzac was with her in
- the Grands Magasins de la Louvre when the reticule disappeared could not
- pass unnoticed, and, it must be said, strongly awakened our interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- This conversation between magistrates, accused, victim, witnesses and
- journalist, was coming to a close when quite a theatrical sensation—an
- incident of a kind displeasing to Monsieur de Marquet—was produced.
- The officer of the gendarmes came to announce that Frederic Larsan
- requested to be admitted,—a request that was at once complied with.
- He held in his hand a heavy pair of muddy boots, which he threw on the
- pavement of the laboratory.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here,” he said, “are the boots worn by the murderer. Do you recognise
- them, Daddy Jacques?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Jacques bent over them and, stupefied, recognised a pair of old
- boots which he had, some time back, thrown into a corner of his attic. He
- was so taken aback that he could not hide his agitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then pointing to the handkerchief in the old man’s hand, Frederic Larsan
- said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a handkerchief astonishingly like the one found in The Yellow
- Room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know,” said Daddy Jacques, trembling, “they are almost alike.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then,” continued Frederic Larsan, “the old Basque cap also found in
- “The Yellow Room” might at one time have been worn by Daddy Jacques himself.
- All this, gentlemen, proves, I think, that the murderer wished to disguise
- his real personality. He did it in a very clumsy way—or, at least,
- so it appears to us. Don’t be alarmed, Daddy Jacques; we are quite sure
- that you were not the murderer; you never left the side of Monsieur
- Stangerson. But if Monsieur Stangerson had not been working that night and
- had gone back to the chateau after parting with his daughter, and Daddy
- Jacques had gone to sleep in his attic, no one would have doubted that he
- was the murderer. He owes his safety, therefore, to the tragedy having
- been enacted too soon,—the murderer, no doubt, from the silence in
- the laboratory, imagined that it was empty, and that the moment for action
- had come. The man who had been able to introduce himself here so
- mysteriously and to leave so many evidences against Daddy Jacques, was,
- there can be no doubt, familiar with the house. At what hour exactly he
- entered, whether in the afternoon or in the evening, I cannot say. One
- familiar with the proceedings and persons of this pavilion could choose
- his own time for entering “The Yellow Room”.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He could not have entered it if anybody had been in the laboratory,” said
- Monsieur de Marquet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do we know that?” replied Larsan. “There was the dinner in the
- laboratory, the coming and going of the servants in attendance. There was
- a chemical experiment being carried on between ten and eleven o’clock,
- with Monsieur Stangerson, his daughter, and Daddy Jacques engaged at the
- furnace in a corner of the high chimney. Who can say that the murderer—an
- intimate!—a friend!—did not take advantage of that moment to
- slip into “The Yellow Room”, after having taken off his boots in the
- lavatory?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is very improbable,” said Monsieur Stangerson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doubtless—but it is not impossible. I assert nothing. As to the
- escape from the pavilion—that’s another thing, the most natural
- thing in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For a moment Frederic Larsan paused,—a moment that appeared to us a
- very long time. The eagerness with which we awaited what he was going to
- tell us may be imagined.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not been in “The Yellow Room”,” he continued, “but I take it for
- granted that you have satisfied yourselves that he could have left the
- room only by way of the door; it is by the door, then, that the murderer
- made his way out. At what time? At the moment when it was most easy for
- him to do so; at the moment when it became most explainable—so
- completely explainable that there can be no other explanation. Let us go
- over the moments which followed after the crime had been committed. There
- was the first moment, when Monsieur Stangerson and Daddy Jacques were
- close to the door, ready to bar the way. There was the second moment,
- during which Daddy Jacques was absent and Monsieur Stangerson was left
- alone before the door. There was a third moment, when Monsieur Stangerson
- was joined by the concierge. There was a fourth moment, during which
- Monsieur Stangerson, the concierge and his wife and Daddy Jacques were
- before the door. There was a fifth moment, during which the door was burst
- open and “The Yellow Room” entered. The moment at which the flight is
- explainable is the very moment when there was the least number of persons
- before the door. There was one moment when there was but one person,—Monsieur
- Stangerson. Unless a complicity of silence on the part of Daddy Jacques is
- admitted—in which I do not believe—the door was opened in the
- presence of Monsieur Stangerson alone and the man escaped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here we must admit that Monsieur Stangerson had powerful reasons for not
- arresting, or not causing the arrest of the murderer, since he allowed him
- to reach the window in the vestibule and closed it after him!—That
- done, Mademoiselle Stangerson, though horribly wounded, had still strength
- enough, and no doubt in obedience to the entreaties of her father, to
- refasten the door of her chamber, with both the bolt and the lock, before
- sinking on the floor. We do not know who committed the crime; we do not
- know of what wretch Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson are the victims,
- but there is no doubt that they both know! The secret must be a terrible
- one, for the father had not hesitated to leave his daughter to die behind
- a door which she had shut upon herself,—terrible for him to have
- allowed the assassin to escape. For there is no other way in the world to
- explain the murderer’s flight from “The Yellow Room”!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The silence which followed this dramatic and lucid explanation was
- appalling. We all of us felt grieved for the illustrious professor, driven
- into a corner by the pitiless logic of Frederic Larsan, forced to confess
- the whole truth of his martyrdom or to keep silent, and thus make a yet
- more terrible admission. The man himself, a veritable statue of sorrow,
- raised his hand with a gesture so solemn that we bowed our heads to it as
- before something sacred. He then pronounced these words, in a voice so
- loud that it seemed to exhaust him:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear by the head of my suffering child that I never for an instant
- left the door of her chamber after hearing her cries for help; that that
- door was not opened while I was alone in the laboratory; and that,
- finally, when we entered “The Yellow Room”, my three domestics and I, the
- murderer was no longer there! I swear I do not know the murderer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Must I say it,—in spite of the solemnity of Monsieur Stangerson’s
- words, we did not believe in his denial. Frederic Larsan had shown us the
- truth and it was not so easily given up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet announced that the conversation was at an end, and as
- we were about to leave the laboratory, Joseph Rouletabille approached
- Monsieur Stangerson, took him by the hand with the greatest respect, and I
- heard him say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe you, Monsieur.”
- </p>
-<p><br /><br /></p>
- <p>
- I here close the citation which I have thought it my duty to make from
- Monsieur Maleine’s narrative. I need not tell the reader that all that
- passed in the laboratory was immediately and faithfully reported to me by
- Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII. Frederic Larsan’s Cane
- </h2>
- <p>
- It was not till six o’clock that I left the chateau, taking with me the
- article hastily written by my friend in the little sitting-room which
- Monsieur Robert Darzac had placed at our disposal. The reporter was to
- sleep at the chateau, taking advantage of the to me inexplicable
- hospitality offered him by Monsieur Robert Darzac, to whom Monsieur
- Stangerson, in that sad time, left the care of all his domestic affairs.
- Nevertheless he insisted on accompanying me to the station at Epinay. In
- crossing the park, he said to me:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frederic is really very clever and has not belied his reputation. Do you
- know how he came to find Daddy Jacques’s boots?—Near the spot where
- we noticed the traces of the neat boots and the disappearance of the rough
- ones, there was a square hole, freshly made in the moist ground, where a
- stone had evidently been removed. Larsan searched for that stone without
- finding it, and at once imagined that it had been used by the murderer
- with which to sink the boots in the lake. Fred’s calculation was an
- excellent one, as the success of his search proves. That escaped me; but
- my mind was turned in another direction by the large number of false
- indications of his track which the murderer left, and by the measure of
- the black foot-marks corresponding with that of Daddy Jacques’s boots,
- which I had established without his suspecting it, on the floor of The
- Yellow Room. All which was a proof, in my eyes, that the murderer had
- sought to turn suspicion on to the old servant. Up to that point, Larsan
- and I are in accord; but no further. It is going to be a terrible matter;
- for I tell you he is working on wrong lines, and I—I, must fight him
- with nothing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was surprised at the profoundly grave accent with which my young friend
- pronounced the last words.
- </p>
- <p>
- He repeated:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—terrible!—terrible! For it is fighting with nothing, when you
- have only an idea to fight with.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment we passed by the back of the chateau. Night had come. A
- window on the first floor was partly open. A feeble light came from it as
- well as some sounds which drew our attention. We approached until we had
- reached the side of a door that was situated just under the window.
- Rouletabille, in a low tone, made me understand, that this was the window
- of Mademoiselle Stangerson’s chamber. The sounds which had attracted our
- attention ceased, then were renewed for a moment, and then we heard
- stifled sobs. We were only able to catch these words, which reached us
- distinctly: “My poor Robert!”—Rouletabille whispered in my ear:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we only knew what was being said in that chamber, my inquiry would
- soon be finished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked about him. The darkness of the evening enveloped us; we could
- not see much beyond the narrow path bordered by trees, which ran behind
- the chateau. The sobs had ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we can’t hear we may at least try to see,” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- And, making a sign to me to deaden the sound of my steps, he led me across
- the path to the trunk of a tall beech tree, the white bole of which was
- visible in the darkness. This tree grew exactly in front of the window in
- which we were so much interested, its lower branches being on a level with
- the first floor of the chateau. From the height of those branches one
- might certainly see what was passing in Mademoiselle Stangerson’s chamber.
- Evidently that was what Rouletabille thought, for, enjoining me to remain
- hidden, he clasped the trunk with his vigorous arms and climbed up. I soon
- lost sight of him amid the branches, and then followed a deep silence. In
- front of me, the open window remained lighted, and I saw no shadow move
- across it. I listened, and presently from above me these words reached my
- ears:
- </p>
- <p>
- “After you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “After you, pray!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Somebody was overhead, speaking,—exchanging courtesies. What was my
- astonishment to see on the slippery column of the tree two human forms
- appear and quietly slip down to the ground. Rouletabille had mounted
- alone, and had returned with another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good evening, Monsieur Sainclair!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Frederic Larsan. The detective had already occupied the post of
- observation when my young friend had thought to reach it alone. Neither
- noticed my astonishment. I explained that to myself by the fact that they
- must have been witnesses of some tender and despairing scene between
- Mademoiselle Stangerson, lying in her bed, and Monsieur Darzac on his
- knees by her pillow. I guessed that each had drawn different conclusions
- from what they had seen. It was easy to see that the scene had strongly
- impressed Rouletabille in favour of Monsieur Robert Darzac; while, to
- Larsan, it showed nothing but consummate hypocrisy, acted with finished
- art by Mademoiselle Stangerson’s fiance.
- </p>
- <p>
- As we reached the park gate, Larsan stopped us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My cane!” he cried. “I left it near the tree.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He left us, saying he would rejoin us presently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you noticed Frederic Larsan’s cane?” asked the young reporter, as
- soon as we were alone. “It is quite a new one, which I have never seen him
- use before. He seems to take great care of it—it never leaves him.
- One would think he was afraid it might fall into the hands of strangers. I
- never saw it before to-day. Where did he find it? It isn’t natural that a
- man who had never before used a walking-stick should, the day after the
- Glandier crime, never move a step without one. On the day of our arrival
- at the chateau, as soon as he saw us, he put his watch in his pocket and
- picked up his cane from the ground—a proceeding to which I was
- perhaps wrong not to attach some importance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We were now out of the park. Rouletabille had dropped into silence. His
- thoughts were certainly still occupied with Frederic Larsan’s new cane. I
- had proof of that when, as we came near to Epinay, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frederic Larsan arrived at the Glandier before me; he began his inquiry
- before me; he has had time to find out things about which I know nothing.
- Where did he find that cane?” Then he added: “It is probable that his
- suspicion—more than that, his reasoning—has led him to lay his
- hand on something tangible. Has this cane anything to do with it? Where
- the deuce could he have found it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- As I had to wait twenty minutes for the train at Epinay, we entered a wine
- shop. Almost immediately the door opened and Frederic Larsan made his
- appearance, brandishing his famous cane.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I found it!” he said laughingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The three of us seated ourselves at a table. Rouletabille never took his
- eyes off the cane; he was so absorbed that he did not notice a sign Larsan
- made to a railway employee, a young man with a chin decorated by a tiny
- blond and ill-kept beard. On the sign he rose, paid for his drink, bowed,
- and went out. I should not myself have attached any importance to the
- circumstance, if it had not been recalled to my mind, some months later,
- by the reappearance of the man with the beard at one of the most tragic
- moments of this case. I then learned that the youth was one of Larsan’s
- assistants and had been charged by him to watch the going and coming of
- travellers at the station of Epinay-sur-Orge. Larsan neglected nothing in
- any case on which he was engaged.
- </p>
- <p>
- I turned my eyes again on Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,—Monsieur Fred!” he said, “when did you begin to use a
- walking-stick? I have always seen you walking with your hands in your
- pockets!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a present,” replied the detective.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Recent?” insisted Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it was given to me in London.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, yes, I remember—you have just come from London. May I look at
- it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!—certainly!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred passed the cane to Rouletabille. It was a large yellow bamboo with a
- crutch handle and ornamented with a gold ring. Rouletabille, after
- examining it minutely, returned it to Larsan, with a bantering expression
- on his face, saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were given a French cane in London!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Possibly,” said Fred, imperturbably.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Read the mark there, in tiny letters: Cassette, 6a, Opera.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cannot English people buy canes in Paris?”
- </p>
- <p>
- When Rouletabille had seen me into the train, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll remember the address?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,—Cassette, 6a, Opera. Rely on me; you shall have word tomorrow
- morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That evening, on reaching Paris, I saw Monsieur Cassette, dealer in
- walking-sticks and umbrellas, and wrote to my friend:
- </p>
- <p>
- “A man unmistakably answering to the description of Monsieur Robert Darzac—same
- height, slightly stooping, putty-coloured overcoat, bowler hat—purchased
- a cane similar to the one in which we are interested, on the evening of
- the crime, about eight o’clock. Monsieur Cassette had not sold another
- such cane during the last two years. Fred’s cane is new. It is quite clear
- that it’s the same cane. Fred did not buy it, since he was in London. Like
- you, I think that he found it somewhere near Monsieur Robert Darzac. But
- if, as you suppose, the murderer was in “The Yellow Room” for five, or even
- six hours, and the crime was not committed until towards midnight, the
- purchase of this cane proves an incontestable alibi for Darzac.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII. “The Presbytery Has Lost Nothing of Its Charm, Nor the
- Garden Its Brightness”
- </h2>
- <p>
- A week after the occurrence of the events I have just recounted—on
- the 2nd of November, to be exact—I received at my home in Paris the
- following telegraphic message: “Come to the Glandier by the earliest
- train. Bring revolvers. Friendly greetings. Rouletabille.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I have already said, I think, that at that period, being a young barrister
- with but few briefs, I frequented the Palais de Justice rather for the
- purpose of familiarising myself with my professional duties than for the
- defence of the widow and orphan. I could, therefore, feel no surprise at
- Rouletabille disposing of my time. Moreover, he knew how keenly interested
- I was in his journalistic adventures in general and, above all, in the
- murder at the Glandier. I had not heard from him for a week, nor of the
- progress made with that mysterious case, except by the innumerable
- paragraphs in the newspapers and by the very brief notes of Rouletabille
- in the “Epoque.” Those notes had divulged the fact that traces of human
- blood had been found on the mutton-bone, as well as fresh traces of the
- blood of Mademoiselle Stangerson—the old stains belonged to other
- crimes, probably dating years back.
- </p>
- <p>
- It may be easily imagined that the crime engaged the attention of the
- press throughout the world. No crime known had more absorbed the minds of
- people. It appeared to me, however, that the judicial inquiry was making
- but very little progress; and I should have been very glad, if, on the
- receipt of my friend’s invitation to rejoin him at the Glandier, the
- despatch had not contained the words, “Bring revolvers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That puzzled me greatly. Rouletabille telegraphing for revolvers meant
- that there might be occasion to use them. Now, I confess it without shame,
- I am not a hero. But here was a friend, evidently in danger, calling on me
- to go to his aid. I did not hesitate long; and after assuring myself that
- the only revolver I possessed was properly loaded, I hurried towards the
- Orleans station. On the way I remembered that Rouletabille had asked for
- two revolvers; I therefore entered a gunsmith’s shop and bought an
- excellent weapon for my friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had hoped to find him at the station at Epinay; but he was not there.
- However, a cab was waiting for me and I was soon at the Glandier. Nobody
- was at the gate, and it was only on the threshold of the chateau that I
- met the young man. He saluted me with a friendly gesture and threw his
- arms about me, inquiring warmly as to the state of my health.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we were in the little sitting-room of which I have spoken,
- Rouletabille made me sit down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s going badly,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s going badly?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He came nearer to me and whispered:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frederic Larsan is working with might and main against Darzac.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This did not astonish me. I had seen the poor show Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s fiance had made at the time of the examination of the
- footprints. However, I immediately asked:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What about that cane?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is still in the hands of Frederic Larsan. He never lets go of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But doesn’t it prove the alibi for Monsieur Darzac?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all. Gently questioned by me, Darzac denied having, on that
- evening, or on any other, purchased a cane at Cassette’s. However,” said
- Rouletabille, “I’ll not swear to anything; Monsieur Darzac has such
- strange fits of silence that one does not know exactly what to think of
- what he says.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To Frederic Larsan this cane must mean a piece of very damaging evidence.
- But in what way? The time when it was bought shows it could not have been
- in the murderer’s possession.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The time doesn’t worry Larsan. He is not obliged to adopt my theory which
- assumes that the murderer got into “The Yellow Room” between five and six
- o’clock. But there’s nothing to prevent him assuming that the murderer got
- in between ten and eleven o’clock at night. At that hour Monsieur and
- Mademoiselle Stangerson, assisted by Daddy Jacques, were engaged in making
- an interesting chemical experiment in the part of the laboratory taken up
- by the furnaces. Larsan says, unlikely as that may seem, that the murderer
- may have slipped behind them. He has already got the examining magistrate
- to listen to him. When one looks closely into it, the reasoning is absurd,
- seeing that the ‘intimate’—if there is one—must have known
- that the professor would shortly leave the pavilion, and that the ‘friend’
- had only to put off operating till after the professor’s departure. Why
- should he have risked crossing the laboratory while the professor was in
- it? And then, when he had got into “The Yellow Room”?
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are many points to be cleared up before Larsan’s theory can be
- admitted. I sha’n’t waste my time over it, for my theory won’t allow me to
- occupy myself with mere imagination. Only, as I am obliged for the moment
- to keep silent, and Larsan sometimes talks, he may finish by coming out
- openly against Monsieur Darzac,—if I’m not there,” added the young
- reporter proudly. “For there are surface evidences against Darzac, much
- more convincing than that cane, which remains incomprehensible to me, all
- the more so as Larsan does not in the least hesitate to let Darzac see him
- with it!—I understand many things in Larsan’s theory, but I can’t
- make anything of that cane.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is he still at the chateau?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; he hardly ever leaves it!—He sleeps there, as I do, at the
- request of Monsieur Stangerson, who has done for him what Monsieur Robert
- Darzac has done for me. In spite of the accusation made by Larsan that
- Monsieur Stangerson knows who the murderer is he yet affords him every
- facility for arriving at the truth,—just as Darzac is doing for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you are convinced of Darzac’s innocence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At one time I did believe in the possibility of his guilt. That was when
- we arrived here for the first time. The time has come for me to tell you
- what has passed between Monsieur Darzac and myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here Rouletabille interrupted himself and asked me if I had brought the
- revolvers. I showed him them. Having examined both, he pronounced them
- excellent, and handed them back to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shall we have any use for them?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt; this evening. We shall pass the night here—if that won’t
- tire you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On the contrary,” I said with an expression that made Rouletabille laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no,” he said, “this is no time for laughing. You remember the phrase
- which was the ‘open sesame’ of this chateau full of mystery?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” I said, “perfectly,—‘The presbytery has lost nothing of its
- charm, nor the garden its brightness.’ It was the phrase which you found
- on the half-burned piece of paper amongst the ashes in the laboratory.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; at the bottom of the paper, where the flame had not reached, was
- this date: 23rd of October. Remember this date, it is highly important. I
- am now going to tell you about that curious phrase. On the evening before
- the crime, that is to say, on the 23rd, Monsieur and Mademoiselle
- Stangerson were at a reception at the Elysee. I know that, because I was
- there on duty, having to interview one of the savants of the Academy of
- Philadelphia, who was being feted there. I had never before seen either
- Monsieur or Mademoiselle Stangerson. I was seated in the room which
- precedes the Salon des Ambassadeurs, and, tired of being jostled by so
- many noble personages, I had fallen into a vague reverie, when I scented
- near me the perfume of the lady in black.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you ask me what is the ‘perfume of the lady in black’? It must suffice
- for you to know that it is a perfume of which I am very fond, because it
- was that of a lady who had been very kind to me in my childhood,—a
- lady whom I had always seen dressed in black. The lady who, that evening,
- was scented with the perfume of the lady in black, was dressed in white.
- She was wonderfully beautiful. I could not help rising and following her.
- An old man gave her his arm and, as they passed, I heard voices say:
- ‘Professor Stangerson and his daughter.’ It was in that way I learned who
- it was I was following.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They met Monsieur Robert Darzac, whom I knew by sight. Professor
- Stangerson, accosted by Mr. Arthur William Rance, one of the American
- savants, seated himself in the great gallery, and Monsieur Robert Darzac
- led Mademoiselle Stangerson into the conservatory. I followed. The weather
- was very mild that evening; the garden doors were open. Mademoiselle
- Stangerson threw a fichu shawl over her shoulders and I plainly saw that
- it was she who was begging Monsieur Darzac to go with her into the garden.
- I continued to follow, interested by the agitation plainly exhibited by
- the bearing of Monsieur Darzac. They slowly passed along the wall abutting
- on the Avenue Marigny. I took the central alley, walking parallel with
- them, and then crossed over for the purpose of getting nearer to them. The
- night was dark, and the grass deadened the sound of my steps. They had
- stopped under the vacillating light of a gas jet and appeared to be both
- bending over a paper held by Mademoiselle Stangerson, reading something
- which deeply interested them. I stopped in the darkness and silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neither of them saw me, and I distinctly heard Mademoiselle Stangerson
- repeat, as she was refolding the paper: ‘The presbytery has lost nothing
- of its charm, nor the garden its brightness!’—It was said in a tone
- at once mocking and despairing, and was followed by a burst of such
- nervous laughter that I think her words will never cease to sound in my
- ears. But another phrase was uttered by Monsieur Robert Darzac: ‘Must I
- commit a crime, then, to win you?’ He was in an extraordinarily agitated
- state. He took the hand of Mademoiselle Stangerson and held it for a long
- time to his lips, and I thought, from the movement of his shoulders, that
- he was crying. Then they went away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I returned to the great gallery,” continued Rouletabille, “I saw no
- more of Monsieur Robert Darzac, and I was not to see him again until after
- the tragedy at the Glandier. Mademoiselle was near Mr. Rance, who was
- talking with much animation, his eyes, during the conversation, glowing
- with a singular brightness. Mademoiselle Stangerson, I thought, was not
- even listening to what he was saying, her face expressing perfect
- indifference. His face was the red face of a drunkard. When Monsieur and
- Mademoiselle Stangerson left, he went to the bar and remained there. I
- joined him, and rendered him some little service in the midst of the
- pressing crowd. He thanked me and told me he was returning to America
- three days later, that is to say, on the 26th (the day after the crime). I
- talked with him about Philadelphia; he told me he had lived there for
- five-and-twenty years, and that it was there he had met the illustrious
- Professor Stangerson and his daughter. He drank a great deal of champagne,
- and when I left him he was very nearly drunk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such were my experiences on that evening, and I leave you to imagine what
- effect the news of the attempted murder of Mademoiselle Stangerson
- produced on me,—with what force those words pronounced by Monsieur
- Robert Darzac, ‘Must I commit a crime, then, to win you?’ recurred to me.
- It was not this phrase, however, that I repeated to him, when we met here
- at Glandier. The sentence of the presbytery and the bright garden sufficed
- to open the gate of the chateau. If you ask me if I believe now that
- Monsieur Darzac is the murderer, I must say I do not. I do not think I
- ever quite thought that. At the time I could not really think seriously of
- anything. I had so little evidence to go on. But I needed to have at once
- the proof that he had not been wounded in the hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When we were alone together, I told him how I had chanced to overhear a
- part of his conversation with Mademoiselle Stangerson in the garden of the
- Elysee; and when I repeated to him the words, ‘Must I commit a crime,
- then, to win you?’ he was greatly troubled, though much less so than he
- had been by hearing me repeat the phrase about the presbytery. What threw
- him into a state of real consternation was to learn from me that the day
- on which he had gone to meet Mademoiselle Stangerson at the Elysee, was
- the very day on which she had gone to the Post Office for the letter. It
- was that letter, perhaps, which ended with the words: ‘The presbytery has
- lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness.’ My surmise was
- confirmed by my finding, if you remember, in the ashes of the laboratory,
- the fragment of paper dated October the 23rd. The letter had been written
- and withdrawn from the Post Office on the same day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There can be no doubt that, on returning from the Elysee that night,
- Mademoiselle Stangerson had tried to destroy that compromising paper. It
- was in vain that Monsieur Darzac denied that that letter had anything
- whatever to do with the crime. I told him that in an affair so filled with
- mystery as this, he had no right to hide this letter; that I was persuaded
- it was of considerable importance; that the desperate tone in which
- Mademoiselle Stangerson had pronounced the prophetic phrase,—that
- his own tears, and the threat of a crime which he had professed after the
- letter was read—all these facts tended to leave no room for me to
- doubt. Monsieur Darzac became more and more agitated, and I determined to
- take advantage of the effect I had produced on him. ‘You were on the point
- of being married, Monsieur,’ I said negligently and without looking at
- him, ‘and suddenly your marriage becomes impossible because of the writer
- of that letter; because as soon as his letter was read, you spoke of the
- necessity for a crime to win Mademoiselle Stangerson. Therefore there is someone between you and her—someone who is preventing your marriage with
-her—someone who has attempted to kill her, so that she should not be able to marry!’ And I concluded with these words: ‘Now,
- monsieur, you have only to tell me in confidence the name of the
- murderer!’—The words I had uttered must have struck him ominously,
- for when I turned my eyes on him, I saw that his face was haggard, the
- perspiration standing on his forehead, and terror showing in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Monsieur,’ he said to me, ‘I am going to ask of you something which may
- appear insane, but in exchange for which I place my life in your hands.
- You must not tell the magistrates of what you saw and heard in the garden
- of the Elysee,—neither to them nor to anybody. I swear to you, that
- I am innocent, and I know, I feel, that you believe me; but I would rather
- be taken for the guilty man than see justice go astray on that phrase,
- “The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its
- brightness.” The judges must know nothing about that phrase. All this
- matter is in your hands. Monsieur, I leave it there; but forget the
- evening at the Elysee. A hundred other roads are open to you in your
- search for the criminal. I will open them for you myself. I will help you.
- Will you take up your quarters here?—You may remain here to do as
- you please.—Eat—sleep here—watch my actions—the
- actions of all here. You shall be master of the Glandier, Monsieur; but
- forget the evening at the Elysee.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille here paused to take breath. I now understood what had
- appeared so unexplainable in the demeanour of Monsieur Robert Darzac
- towards my friend, and the facility with which the young reporter had been
- able to install himself on the scene of the crime. My curiosity could not
- fail to be excited by all I had heard. I asked Rouletabille to satisfy it
- still further. What had happened at the Glandier during the past week?—Had
- he not told me that there were surface indications against Monsieur Darzac
- much more terrible than that of the cane found by Larsan?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything seems to be pointing against him,” replied my friend, “and the
- situation is becoming exceedingly grave. Monsieur Darzac appears not to
- mind it much; but in that he is wrong. I was interested only in the health
- of Mademoiselle Stangerson, which was daily improving, when something
- occurred that is even more mysterious than—than the mystery of The
- Yellow Room!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” I cried, “What could be more mysterious than that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us first go back to Monsieur Robert Darzac,” said Rouletabille,
- calming me. “I have said that everything seems to be pointing against him.
- The marks of the neat boots found by Frederic Larsan appear to be really
- the footprints of Mademoiselle Stangerson’s fiance. The marks made by the
- bicycle may have been made by his bicycle. He had usually left it at the
- chateau; why did he take it to Paris on that particular occasion? Was it
- because he was not going to return again to the chateau? Was it because,
- owing to the breaking off of his marriage, his relations with the
- Stangersons were to cease? All who are interested in the matter affirm
- that those relations were to continue unchanged.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frederic Larsan, however, believes that all relations were at an end.
- From the day when Monsieur Darzac accompanied Mademoiselle Stangerson to
- the Grands Magasins de la Louvre until the day after the crime, he had not
- been at the Glandier. Remember that Mademoiselle Stangerson lost her
- reticule containing the key with the brass head while she was in his
- company. From that day to the evening at the Elysee, the Sorbonne
- professor and Mademoiselle Stangerson did not see one another; but they
- may have written to each other. Mademoiselle Stangerson went to the Post
- Office to get a letter, which Larsan says was written by Robert Darzac;
- for knowing nothing of what had passed at the Elysee, Larsan believes that
- it was Monsieur Darzac himself who stole the reticule with the key, with
- the design of forcing her consent, by getting possession of the precious
- papers of her father—papers which he would have restored to him on
- condition that the marriage engagement was to be fulfilled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All that would have been a very doubtful and almost absurd hypothesis, as
- Larsan admitted to me, but for another and much graver circumstance. In
- the first place here is something which I have not been able to explain—Monsieur
- Darzac had himself, on the 24th, gone to the Post Office to ask for the
- letter which Mademoiselle had called for and received on the previous
- evening. The description of the man who made application tallies in every
- respect with the appearance of Monsieur Darzac, who, in answer to the
- questions put to him by the examining magistrate, denies that he went to
- the Post Office. Now even admitting that the letter was written by him—which
- I do not believe—he knew that Mademoiselle Stangerson had received
- it, since he had seen it in her hands in the garden at the Elysee. It
- could not have been he, then, who had gone to the Post Office, the day
- after the 24th, to ask for a letter which he knew was no longer there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To me it appears clear that somebody, strongly resembling him, stole
- Mademoiselle Stangerson’s reticule and in that letter, had demanded of her
- something which she had not sent him. He must have been surprised at the
- failure of his demand, hence his application at the Post Office, to learn
- whether his letter had been delivered to the person to whom it had been
- addressed. Finding that it had been claimed, he had become furious. What
- had he demanded? Nobody but Mademoiselle Stangerson knows. Then, on the
- day following, it is reported that she had been attacked during the night,
- and, the next day, I discovered that the Professor had, at the same time,
- been robbed by means of the key referred to in the poste restante letter.
- It would seem, then, that the man who went to the Post Office to inquire
- for the letter must have been the murderer. All these arguments Larsan
- applies as against Monsieur Darzac. You may be sure that the examining
- magistrate, Larsan, and myself, have done our best to get from the Post
- Office precise details relative to the singular personage who applied
- there on the 24th of October. But nothing has been learned. We don’t know
- where he came from—or where he went. Beyond the description which
- makes him resemble Monsieur Darzac, we know nothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have announced in the leading journals that a handsome reward will be
- given to a driver of any public conveyance who drove a fare to No. 40,
- Post Office, about ten o’clock on the morning of the 24th of October.
- Information to be addressed to ‘M. R.,’ at the office of the ‘Epoque’; but
- no answer has resulted. The man may have walked; but, as he was most
- likely in a hurry, there was a chance that he might have gone in a cab.
- Who, I keep asking myself night and day, is the man who so strongly
- resembles Monsieur Robert Darzac, and who is also known to have bought the
- cane which has fallen into Larsan’s hands?
- </p>
- <p>
- “The most serious fact is that Monsieur Darzac was, at the very same time
- that his double presented himself at the Post Office, scheduled for a
- lecture at the Sorbonne. He had not delivered that lecture, and one of his
- friends took his place. When I questioned him as to how he had employeed
- the time, he told me that he had gone for a stroll in the Bois de
- Boulogne. What do you think of a professor who, instead of giving his
- lecture, obtains a substitute to go for a stroll in the Bois de Boulogne?
- When Frederic Larsan asked him for information on this point, he quietly
- replied that it was no business of his how he spent his time in Paris. On
- which Fred swore aloud that he would find out, without anybody’s help.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All this seems to fit in with Fred’s hypothesis, namely, that Monsieur
- Stangerson allowed the murderer to escape in order to avoid a scandal. The
- hypothesis is further substantiated by the fact that Darzac was in The
- Yellow Room and was permitted to get away. That hypothesis I believe to be
- a false one.—Larsan is being misled by it, though that would not
- displease me, did it not affect an innocent person. Now does that
- hypothesis really mislead Frederic Larsan? That is the question—that
- is the question.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps he is right,” I cried, interrupting Rouletabille. “Are you sure
- that Monsieur Darzac is innocent?—It seems to me that these are
- extraordinary coincidences—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Coincidences,” replied my friend, “are the worst enemies to truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does the examining magistrate think now of the matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur de Marquet hesitates to accuse Monsieur Darzac, in the absence
- of absolute proofs. Not only would he have public opinion wholly against
- him, to say nothing of the Sorbonne, but Monsieur and Mademoiselle
- Stangerson. She adores Monsieur Robert Darzac. Indistinctly as she saw the
- murderer, it would be hard to make the public believe that she could not
- have recognised him, if Darzac had been the criminal. No doubt The Yellow
- Room was very dimly lit; but a night-light, however small, gives some
- light. Here, my boy, is how things stood when, three days, or rather three
- nights ago, an extraordinarily strange incident occurred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV. “I Expect the Assassin This Evening”
- </h2>
- <p>
- “I must take you,” said Rouletabille, “so as to enable you to understand,
- to the various scenes. I myself believe that I have discovered what
- everybody else is searching for, namely, how the murderer escaped from The
- Yellow Room, without any accomplice, and without Mademoiselle Stangerson
- having had anything to do with it. But so long as I am not sure of the
- real murderer, I cannot state the theory on which I am working. I can only
- say that I believe it to be correct and, in any case, a quite natural and
- simple one. As to what happened in this place three nights ago, I must say
- it kept me wondering for a whole day and a night. It passes all belief.
- The theory I have formed from the incident is so absurd that I would
- rather matters remained as yet unexplained.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Saying which the young reporter invited me to go and make the tour of the
- chateau with him. The only sound to be heard was the crunching of the dead
- leaves beneath our feet. The silence was so intense that one might have
- thought the chateau had been abandoned. The old stones, the stagnant water
- of the ditch surrounding the donjon, the bleak ground strewn with the dead
- leaves, the dark, skeleton-like outlines of the trees, all contributed to
- give to the desolate place, now filled with its awful mystery, a most
- funereal aspect. As we passed round the donjon, we met the Green Man, the
- forest-keeper, who did not greet us, but walked by as if we had not
- existed. He was looking just as I had formerly seen him through the window
- of the Donjon Inn. He had still his fowling-piece slung at his back, his
- pipe was in his mouth, and his eye-glasses on his nose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An odd kind of fish!” Rouletabille said to me, in a low tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you spoken to him?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but I could get nothing out of him. His only answers are grunts and
- shrugs of the shoulders. He generally lives on the first floor of the
- donjon, a big room that once served for an oratory. He lives like a bear,
- never goes out without his gun, and is only pleasant with the girls. The
- women, for twelve miles round, are all setting their caps for him. For the
- present, he is paying attention to Madame Mathieu, whose husband is
- keeping a lynx eye upon her in consequence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After passing the donjon, which is situated at the extreme end of the left
- wing, we went to the back of the chateau. Rouletabille, pointing to a
- window which I recognised as the only one belonging to Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s apartment, said to me:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you had been here, two nights ago, you would have seen your humble
- servant at the top of a ladder, about to enter the chateau by that
- window.”
- </p>
- <p>
- As I expressed some surprise at this piece of nocturnal gymnastics, he
- begged me to notice carefully the exterior disposition of the chateau. We
- then went back into the building.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must now show you the first floor of the chateau, where I am living,”
- said my friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- To enable the reader the better to understand the disposition of these
- parts of the dwelling, I annex a plan of the first floor of the right
- wing, drawn by Rouletabille the day after the extraordinary phenomenon
- occurred, the details of which I am about to relate.
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- boudoir
- ___ ____ ___________ _______\___ ________4________ _______ _________ __
- | | | | | |
- | | Mlle. | | Mlle. |___ ___ ___| Mr.
- Lumber |Strangerson’s Strangerson’s|___ ___ ___|Strangerson’s
- | Room | Sitting | | Bed Room |___ ___ ___| Room
- | | Room | |__ __ _____|stair-case |
- | | |bath|anteroom| |
- |_____ ______|____ ______|___|____|___ ___| |______ _____
- |
- 2 ——— Right Gallery Right Wing————- 3 Right Gallery
- Left Wing
- |_________ _____ _________ ______ _______ __ __ __ _________ _____
-
- |Roulet- | W G |
- |tabille’s | I A | Right Wing Left Wing
- | Room N L of the
- |_________ | D L | Chateau
- Frederic | I E |
- |Larsan’s N R
- | Room | G Y |
- | |
- |____ ____ | _1_ |
- . 5 .
- . 6 .
- . .
- . . .
-</pre>
- <p>
- Rouletabille motioned me to follow him up a magnificent flight of stairs
- ending in a landing on the first floor. From this landing one could pass
- to the right or left wing of the chateau by a gallery opening from it.
- This gallery, high and wide, extended along the whole length of the
- building and was lit from the front of the chateau facing the north. The
- rooms, the windows of which looked to the south, opened out of the
- gallery. Professor Stangerson inhabited the left wing of the building.
- Mademoiselle Stangerson had her apartment in the right wing.
- </p>
- <p>
- We entered the gallery to the right. A narrow carpet, laid on the waxed
- oaken floor, which shone like glass, deadened the sound of our footsteps.
- Rouletabille asked me, in a low tone, to walk carefully, as we were
- passing the door of Mademoiselle Stangerson’s apartment. This consisted of
- a bed-room, an ante-room, a small bath-room, a boudoir, and a
- drawing-room. One could pass from one to another of these rooms without
- having to go by way of the gallery. The gallery continued straight to the
- western end of the building, where it was lit by a high window (window 2
- on the plan). At about two-thirds of its length this gallery, at a right
- angle, joined another gallery following the course of the right wing.
- </p>
- <p>
- The better to follow this narrative, we shall call the gallery leading
- from the stairs to the eastern window, the “right” gallery and the gallery
- quitting it at a right angle, the “off-turning” gallery (winding gallery
- in the plan). It was at the meeting point of the two galleries that
- Rouletabille had his chamber, adjoining that of Frederic Larsan, the door
- of each opening on to the “off-turning” gallery, while the doors of
- Mademoiselle Stangerson’s apartment opened into the “right” gallery. (See
- the plan.)
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille opened the door of his room and after we had passed in,
- carefully drew the bolt. I had not had time to glance round the place in
- which he had been installed, when he uttered a cry of surprise and pointed
- to a pair of eye-glasses on a side-table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are these doing here?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- I should have been puzzled to answer him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder,” he said, “I wonder if this is what I have been searching for.
- I wonder if these are the eye-glasses from the presbytery!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He seized them eagerly, his fingers caressing the glass. Then looking at
- me, with an expression of terror on his face, he murmured, “Oh!—Oh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He repeated the exclamation again and again, as if his thoughts had
- suddenly turned his brain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He rose and, putting his hand on my shoulder, laughed like one demented as
- he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Those glasses will drive me silly! Mathematically speaking the thing is
- possible; but humanly speaking it is impossible—or afterwards—or
- afterwards—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Two light knocks struck the door. Rouletabille opened it. A figure
- entered. I recognised the concierge, whom I had seen when she was being
- taken to the pavilion for examination. I was surprised, thinking she was
- still under lock and key. This woman said in a very low tone:
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the grove of the parquet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille replied: “Thanks.”—The woman then left. He again turned
- to me, his look haggard, after having carefully refastened the door,
- muttering some incomprehensible phrases.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the thing is mathematically possible, why should it not be humanly!—And
- if it is humanly possible, the matter is simply awful.” I interrupted him
- in his soliloquy:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have they set the concierges at liberty, then?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he replied, “I had them liberated, I needed people I could trust.
- The woman is thoroughly devoted to me, and her husband would lay down his
- life for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oho!” I said, “when will he have occasion to do it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This evening,—for this evening I expect the murderer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You expect the murderer this evening? Then you know him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall know him; but I should be mad to affirm, categorically, at this
- moment that I do know him. The mathematical idea I have of the murderer
- gives results so frightful, so monstrous, that I hope it is still possible
- that I am mistaken. I hope so, with all my heart!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Five minutes ago, you did not know the murderer; how can you say that you
- expect him this evening?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I know that he must come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille very slowly filled his pipe and lit it. That meant an
- interesting story. At that moment we heard some one walking in the gallery
- and passing before our door. Rouletabille listened. The sound of the
- footstep died away in the distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Frederic Larsan in his room?” I asked, pointing to the partition.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” my friend answered. “He went to Paris this morning,—still on
- the scent of Darzac, who also left for Paris. That matter will turn out
- badly. I expect that Monsieur Darzac will be arrested in the course of the
- next week. The worst of it is that everything seems to be in league
- against him,—circumstances, things, people. Not an hour passes
- without bringing some new evidence against him. The examining magistrate
- is overwhelmed by it—and blind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frederic Larsan, however, is not a novice,” I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought so,” said Rouletabille, with a slightly contemptuous turn of
- his lips, “I fancied he was a much abler man. I had, indeed, a great
- admiration for him, before I got to know his method of working. It’s
- deplorable. He owes his reputation solely to his ability; but he lacks
- reasoning power,—the mathematics of his ideas are very poor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I looked closely at Rouletabille and could not help smiling, on hearing
- this boy of eighteen talking of a man who had proved to the world that he
- was the finest police sleuth in Europe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You smile,” he said? “you are wrong! I swear I will outwit him—and
- in a striking way! But I must make haste about it, for he has an enormous
- start on me—given him by Monsieur Robert Darzac, who is this evening
- going to increase it still more. Think of it!—every time the
- murderer comes to the chateau, Monsieur Darzac, by a strange fatality,
- absents himself and refuses to give any account of how he employs his
- time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Every time the assassin comes to the chateau!” I cried. “Has he returned
- then—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, during that famous night when the strange phenomenon occurred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was now going to learn about the astonishing phenomenon to which
- Rouletabille had made allusion half an hour earlier without giving me any
- explanation of it. But I had learned never to press Rouletabille in his
- narratives. He spoke when the fancy took him and when he judged it to be
- right. He was less concerned about my curiosity than he was for making a
- complete summing up for himself of any important matter in which he was
- interested.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last, in short rapid phrases, he acquainted me with things which
- plunged me into a state bordering on complete bewilderment. Indeed, the
- results of that still unknown science known as hypnotism, for example,
- were not more inexplicable than the disappearance of the “matter” of the
- murderer at the moment when four persons were within touch of him. I speak
- of hypnotism as I would of electricity, for of the nature of both we are
- ignorant and we know little of their laws. I cite these examples because,
- at the time, the case appeared to me to be only explicable by the
- inexplicable,—that is to say, by an event outside of known natural
- laws. And yet, if I had had Rouletabille’s brain, I should, like him, have
- had a presentiment of the natural explanation; for the most curious thing
- about all the mysteries of the Glandier case was the natural manner in
- which he explained them.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have among the papers that were sent me by the young man, after the
- affair was over, a note-book of his, in which a complete account is given
- of the phenomenon of the disappearance of the “matter” of the assassin,
- and the thoughts to which it gave rise in the mind of my young friend. It
- is preferable, I think, to give the reader this account, rather than
- continue to reproduce my conversation with Rouletabille; for I should be
- afraid, in a history of this nature, to add a word that was not in
- accordance with the strictest truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV. The Trap
- </h2>
- <p>
- (EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF JOSEPH ROULETABILLE)
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night—the night between the 29th and 30th of October—”
- wrote Joseph Rouletabille, “I woke up towards one o’clock in the morning.
- Was it sleeplessness, or noise without?—The cry of the Bete du Bon
- Dieu rang out with sinister loudness from the end of the park. I rose and
- opened the window. Cold wind and rain; opaque darkness; silence. I
- reclosed my window. Again the sound of the cat’s weird cry in the
- distance. I partly dressed in haste. The weather was too bad for even a
- cat to be turned out in it. What did it mean, then—that imitating of
- the mewing of Mother Angenoux’ cat so near the chateau? I seized a
- good-sized stick, the only weapon I had, and, without making any noise,
- opened the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The gallery into which I went was well lit by a lamp with a reflector. I
- felt a keen current of air and, on turning, found the window open, at the
- extreme end of the gallery, which I call the ‘off-turning’ gallery, to
- distinguish it from the ‘right’ gallery, on to which the apartment of
- Mademoiselle Stangerson opened. These two galleries cross each other at
- right angles. Who had left that window open? Or, who had come to open it?
- I went to the window and leaned out. Five feet below me there was a sort
- of terrace over the semi-circular projection of a room on the
- ground-floor. One could, if one wanted, jump from the window on to the
- terrace, and allow oneself to drop from it into the court of the chateau.
- Whoever had entered by this road had, evidently, not had a key to the
- vestibule door. But why should I be thinking of my previous night’s
- attempt with the ladder?—Because of the open window—left open,
- perhaps, by the negligence of a servant? I reclosed it, smiling at the
- ease with which I built a drama on the mere suggestion of an open window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Again the cry of the Bete du Bon Dieu!—and then silence. The rain
- ceased to beat on the window. All in the chateau slept. I walked with
- infinite precaution on the carpet of the gallery. On reaching the corner
- of the ‘right’ gallery, I peered round it cautiously. There was another
- lamp there with a reflector which quite lit up the several objects in it,—three
- chairs and some pictures hanging on the wall. What was I doing there?
- Perfect silence reigned throughout. Everything was sunk in repose. What
- was the instinct that urged me towards Mademoiselle Stangerson’s chamber?
- Why did a voice within me cry: ‘Go on, to the chamber of Mademoiselle
- Stangerson!’ I cast my eyes down upon the carpet on which I was treading
- and saw that my steps were being directed towards Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s chamber by the marks of steps that had already been made
- there. Yes, on the carpet were traces of footsteps stained with mud
- leading to the chamber of Mademoiselle Stangerson. Horror! Horror!—I
- recognised in those footprints the impression of the neat boots of the
- murderer! He had come, then, from without in this wretched night. If you
- could descend from the gallery by way of the window, by means of the
- terrace, then you could get into the chateau by the same means.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The murderer was still in the chateau, for here were marks as of
- returning footsteps. He had entered by the open window at the extremity of
- the ‘off-turning’ gallery; he had passed Frederic Larsan’s door and mine,
- had turned to the right, and had entered Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room. I
- am before the door of her ante-room—it is open. I push it, without
- making the least noise. Under the door of the room itself I see a streak
- of light. I listen—no sound—not even of breathing! Ah!—if
- I only knew what was passing in the silence that is behind that door! I
- find the door locked and the key turned on the inner side. And the
- murderer is there, perhaps. He must be there! Will he escape this time?—All
- depends on me!—I must be calm, and above all, I must make no false
- steps. I must see into that room. I can enter it by Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s drawing-room; but, to do that I should have to cross her
- boudoir; and while I am there, the murderer may escape by the gallery door—the
- door in front of which I am now standing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure that no other crime is being committed, on this night; for
- there is complete silence in the boudoir, where two nurses are taking care
- of Mademoiselle Stangerson until she is restored to health.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As I am almost sure that the murderer is there, why do I not at once give
- the alarm? The murderer may, perhaps, escape; but, perhaps, I may be able
- to save Mademoiselle Stangerson’s life. Suppose the murderer on this
- occasion is not here to murder? The door has been opened to allow him to
- enter; by whom?—And it has been refastened—by whom?—Mademoiselle
- Stangerson shuts herself up in her apartment with her nurses every night.
- Who turned the key of that chamber to allow the murderer to enter?—The
- nurses,—two faithful domestics? The old chambermaid, Sylvia? It is
- very improbable. Besides, they slept in the boudoir, and Mademoiselle
- Stangerson, very nervous and careful, Monsieur Robert Darzac told me, sees
- to her own safety since she has been well enough to move about in her
- room, which I have not yet seen her leave. This nervousness and sudden
- care on her part, which had struck Monsieur Darzac, had given me, also,
- food for thought. At the time of the crime in “The Yellow Room”, there can
- be no doubt that she expected the murderer. Was he expected this night?—Was
- it she herself who had opened her door to him? Had she some reason for
- doing so? Was she obliged to do it?—Was it a meeting for purposes of
- crime?—Certainly it was not a lover’s meeting, for I believe
- Mademoiselle Stangerson adores Monsieur Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All these reflections ran through my brain like a flash of lightning.
- What would I not give to know!
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is possible that there was some reason for the awful silence. My
- intervention might do more harm than good. How could I tell? How could I
- know I might not any moment cause another crime? If I could only see and
- know, without breaking that silence!
- </p>
- <p>
- “I left the ante-room and descended the central stairs to the vestibule
- and, as silently as possible, made my way to the little room on the
- ground-floor where Daddy Jacques had been sleeping since the attack made
- at the pavilion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I found him dressed, his eyes wide open, almost haggard. He did not seem
- surprised to see me. He told me that he had got up because he had heard
- the cry of the Bete du bon Dieu, and because he had heard footsteps in the
- park, close to his window, out of which he had looked and, just then, had
- seen a black shadow pass by. I asked him whether he had a firearm of any
- kind. No, he no longer kept one, since the examining magistrate had taken
- his revolver from him. We went out together, by a little back door, into
- the park, and stole along the chateau to the point which is just below
- Mademoiselle Stangerson’s window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I placed Daddy Jacques against the wall, ordering him not to stir from
- the spot, while I, taking advantage of a moment when the moon was hidden
- by a cloud, moved to the front of the window, out of the patch of light
- which came from it,—for the window was half-open! If I could only
- know what was passing in that silent chamber! I returned to Daddy Jacques
- and whispered the word ‘ladder’ in his ear. At first I had thought of the
- tree which, a week ago, served me for an observatory; but I immediately
- saw that, from the way the window was half-opened, I should not be able to
- see from that point of view anything that was passing in the room; and I
- wanted, not only to see, but to hear, and—to act.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Greatly agitated, almost trembling, Daddy Jacques disappeared for a
- moment and returned without the ladder, but making signs to me with his
- arms, as signals to me to come quickly to him. When I got near him he
- gasped: ‘Come!’
- </p>
-<p>
-“He led me round the château, past the don-jon. Arrived there, he said:
-</p>
- <p>
- “‘I went to the donjon in search of my ladder, and in the lower part of
- the donjon which serves me and the gardener for a lumber room, I found the
- door open and the ladder gone. On coming out, that’s what I caught sight
- of by the light of the moon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he pointed to the further end of the chateau, where a ladder stood
- resting against the stone brackets supporting the terrace, under the
- window which I had found open. The projection of the terrace had prevented
- my seeing it. Thanks to that ladder, it was quite easy to get into the
- ‘off-turning’ gallery of the first floor, and I had no doubt of it having
- been the road taken by the unknown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We ran to the ladder, but at the moment of reaching it, Daddy Jacques
- drew my attention to the half-open door of the little semi-circular room,
- situated under the terrace, at the extremity of the right wing of the
- chateau, having the terrace for its roof. Daddy Jacques pushed the door
- open a little further and looked in.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘He’s not there!” he whispered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is not there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The forest—keeper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With his lips once more to my ear, he added:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Do you know that he has slept in the upper room of the donjon ever since
- it was restored?’ And with the same gesture he pointed to the half-open
- door, the ladder, the terrace, and the windows in the ‘off-turning’
- gallery which, a little while before, I had re-closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What were my thoughts then? I had no time to think. I felt more than I
- thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently, I felt, if the forest-keeper is up there in the chamber (I
- say, if, because at this moment, apart from the presence of the ladder and
- his vacant room, there are no evidences which permit me even to suspect
- him)—if he is there, he has been obliged to pass by the ladder, and
- the rooms which lie behind his, in his new lodging, are occupied by the
- family of the steward and by the cook, and by the kitchens, which bar the
- way by the vestibule to the interior of the chateau. And if he had been
- there during the evening on any pretext, it would have been easy for him
- to go into the gallery and see that the window could be simply pushed open
- from the outside. This question of the unfastened window easily narrowed
- the field of search for the murderer. He must belong to the house, unless
- he had an accomplice, which I do not believe he had; unless—unless
- Mademoiselle Stangerson herself had seen that that window was not fastened
- from the inside. But, then,—what could be the frightful secret which
- put her under the necessity of doing away with obstacles that separated
- her from the murderer?
- </p>
- <p>
- “I seized hold of the ladder, and we returned to the back of the chateau
- to see if the window of the chamber was still half-open. The blind was
- drawn but did not join and allowed a bright stream of light to escape and
- fall upon the path at our feet. I planted the ladder under the window. I
- am almost sure that I made no noise; and while Daddy Jacques remained at
- the foot of the ladder, I mounted it, very quietly, my stout stick in my
- hand. I held my breath and lifted my feet with the greatest care. Suddenly
- a heavy cloud discharged itself at that moment in a fresh downpour of
- rain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the same instant the sinister cry of the Bete du bon Dieu arrested me
- in my ascent. It seemed to me to have come from close by me—only a
- few yards away. Was the cry a signal?—Had some accomplice of the man
- seen me on the ladder!—Would the cry bring the man to the window?—Perhaps!
- Ah, there he was at the window! I felt his head above me. I heard the
- sound of his breath! I could not look up towards him; the least movement
- of my head, and—I might be lost. Would he see me?—Would he
- peer into the darkness? No; he went away. He had seen nothing. I felt,
- rather than heard, him moving on tip-toe in the room; and I mounted a few
- steps higher. My head reached to the level of the window-sill; my forehead
- rose above it; my eyes looked between the opening in the blinds—and
- I saw—A man seated at Mademoiselle Stangerson’s little desk,
- writing. His back was turned toward me. A candle was lit before him, and
- he bent over the flame, the light from it projecting shapeless shadows. I
- saw nothing but a monstrous, stooping back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson herself was not there!—Her bed had not been
- lain on! Where, then, was she sleeping that night? Doubtless in the
- side-room with her women. Perhaps this was but a guess. I must content
- myself with the joy of finding the man alone. I must be calm to prepare my
- trap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But who, then, is this man writing there before my eyes, seated at the
- desk, as if he were in his own home? If there had not been that ladder
- under the window; if there had not been those footprints on the carpet in
- the gallery; if there had not been that open window, I might have been led
- to think that this man had a right to be there, and that he was there as a
- matter of course and for reasons about which as yet I knew nothing. But
- there was no doubt that this mysterious unknown was the man of The Yellow
- Room,—the man to whose murderous assault Mademoiselle Stangerson—without
- denouncing him—had had to submit. If I could but see his face!
- Surprise and capture him!
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I spring into the room at this moment, he will escape by the
- right-hand door opening into the boudoir,—or crossing the
- drawing-room, he will reach the gallery and I shall lose him. I have him
- now and in five minutes more he’ll be safer than if I had him in a cage.—What
- is he doing there, alone in Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room?—What is
- he writing? I descend and place the ladder on the ground. Daddy Jacques
- follows me. We re-enter the chateau. I send Daddy Jacques to wake Monsieur
- Stangerson, and instruct him to await my coming in Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s room and to say nothing definite to him before my arrival. I
- will go and awaken Frederic Larsan. It’s a bore to have to do it, for I
- should have liked to work alone and to have carried off all the honors of
- this affair myself, right under the very nose of the sleeping detective.
- But Daddy Jacques and Monsieur Stangerson are old men, and I am not yet
- fully developed. I might not be strong enough. Larsan is used to wrestling
- and putting on the handcuffs. He opened his eyes swollen with sleep, ready
- to send me flying, without in the least believing in my reporter’s
- fancies. I had to assure him that the man was there!
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘That’s strange!’ he said; ‘I thought I left him this afternoon in
- Paris.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “He dressed himself in haste and armed himself with a revolver. We stole
- quietly into the gallery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Where is he?’ Larsan asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘In Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘And—Mademoiselle Stangerson?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘She is not in there.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Let’s go in.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Don’t go there! On the least alarm the man will escape. He has four ways
- by which to do it—the door, the window, the boudoir, or the room in
- which the women are sleeping.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I’ll draw him from below.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘And if you fail?—If you only succeed in wounding him—he’ll
- escape again, without reckoning that he is certainly armed. No, let me
- direct the expedition, and I’ll answer for everything.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘As you like,’ he replied, with fairly good grace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, after satisfying myself that all the windows of the two galleries
- were thoroughly secure, I placed Frederic Larsan at the end of the
- ‘off-turning’ gallery, before the window which I had found open and had
- reclosed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Under no consideration,’ I said to him, ‘must you stir from this post
- till I call you. The chances are even that the man, when he is pursued,
- will return to this window and try to save himself that way; for it is by
- that way he came in and made a way ready for his flight. You have a
- dangerous post.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘What will be yours?’ asked Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I shall spring into the room and knock him over for you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Take my revolver,’ said Fred, ‘and I’ll take your stick.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Thanks,’ I said; ‘You are a brave man.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I accepted his offer. I was going to be alone with the man in the room
- writing and was really thankful to have the weapon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I left Fred, having posted him at the window (No. 5 on the plan), and,
- with the greatest precaution, went towards Monsieur Stangerson’s apartment
- in the left wing of the chateau. I found him with Daddy Jacques, who had
- faithfully obeyed my directions, confining himself to asking his master to
- dress as quickly as possible. In a few words I explained to Monsieur
- Stangerson what was passing. He armed himself with a revolver, followed
- me, and we were all three speedily in the gallery. Since I had seen the
- murderer seated at the desk ten minutes had elapsed. Monsieur Stangerson
- wished to spring upon the assassin at once and kill him. I made him
- understand that, above all, he must not, in his desire to kill him, miss
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I had sworn to him that his daughter was not in the room, and in no
- danger, he conquered his impatience and left me to direct the operations.
- I told them that they must come to me the moment I called to them, or when
- I fired my revolver. I then sent Daddy Jacques to place himself before the
- window at the end of the ‘right’ gallery. (No. 2 on my plan.) I chose that
- position ‘for Daddy Jacques because I believed that the murderer, tracked,
- on leaving the room, would run through the gallery towards the window
- which he had left open, and, instantly seeing that it was guarded by
- Larsan, would pursue his course along the ‘right’ gallery. There he would
- encounter Daddy Jacques, who would prevent his springing out of the window
- into the park. Under that window there was a sort of buttress, while all
- the other windows in the galleries were at such a height from the ground
- that it was almost impossible to jump from them without breaking one’s
- neck. All the doors and windows, including those of the lumber-room at the
- end of the ‘right’ gallery—as I had rapidly assured myself—were
- strongly secured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Having indicated to Daddy Jacques the post he was to occupy, and having
- seen him take up his position, I placed Monsieur Stangerson on the landing
- at the head of the stairs not far from the door of his daughter’s
- ante-room, rather than the boudoir, where the women were, and the door of
- which must have been locked by Mademoiselle Stangerson herself if, as I
- thought, she had taken refuge in the boudoir for the purpose of avoiding
- the murderer who was coming to see her. In any case, he must return to the
- gallery where my people were awaiting him at every possible exit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On coming there, he would see on his left, Monsieur Stangerson; he would
- turn to the right, towards the ‘off-turning’ gallery—the way he had
- pre-arranged for flight, where, at the intersection of the two galleries,
- he would see at once, as I have explained, on his left, Frederic Larsan at
- the end of the ‘off-turning’ gallery, and in front, Daddy Jacques, at the
- end of the ‘right’ gallery. Monsieur Stangerson and myself would arrive by
- way of the back of the chateau.—He is ours!—He can no longer
- escape us! I was sure of that.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The plan I had formed seemed to me the best, the surest, and the most
- simple. It would, no doubt, have been simpler still, if we had been able
- to place some one directly behind the door of Mademoiselle’s boudoir,
- which opened out of her bedchamber, and, in that way, had been in a
- position to besiege the two doors of the room in which the man was. But we
- could not penetrate the boudoir except by way of the drawing-room, the
- door of which had been locked on the inside by Mademoiselle Stangerson.
- But even if I had had the free disposition of the boudoir, I should have
- held to the plan I had formed; because any other plan of attack would have
- separated us at the moment of the struggle with the man, while my plan
- united us all for the attack, at a spot which I had selected with almost
- mathematical precision,—the intersection of the two galleries.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Having so placed my people, I again left the chateau, hurried to my
- ladder, and, replacing it, climbed up, revolver in hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If there be any inclined to smile at my taking so many precautionary
- measures, I refer them to the mystery of “The Yellow Room”, and to all the
- proofs we have of the weird cunning of the murderer. Further, if there be
- some who think my observations needlessly minute at a moment when they
- ought to be completely held by rapidity of movement and decision of
- action, I reply that I have wished to report here, at length and
- completely, all the details of a plan of attack conceived so rapidly that
- it is only the slowness of my pen that gives an appearance of slowness to
- the execution. I have wished, by this slowness and precision, to be
- certain that nothing should be omitted from the conditions under which the
- strange phenomenon was produced, which, until some natural explanation of
- it is forthcoming, seems to me to prove, even better than the theories of
- Professor Stangerson, the Dissociation of Matter—I will even say,
- the instantaneous Dissociation of Matter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI. Strange Phenomenon of the Dissociation of Matter
- </h2>
- <p>
- (EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF JOSEPH ROULETABILLE, continued)
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am again at the window-sill,” continues Rouletabille, “and once more I
- raise my head above it. Through an opening in the curtains, the
- arrangement of which has not been changed, I am ready to look, anxious to
- note the position in which I am going to find the murderer,—whether
- his back will still be turned towards me!—whether he is still seated
- at the desk writing! But perhaps—perhaps—he is no longer
- there!—Yet how could he have fled?—Was I not in possession of
- his ladder? I force myself to be cool. I raise my head yet higher. I look—he
- is still there. I see his monstrous back, deformed by the shadow thrown by
- the candle. He is no longer writing now, and the candle is on the parquet,
- over which he is bending—a position which serves my purpose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hold my breath. I mount the ladder. I am on the uppermost rung of it,
- and with my left hand seize hold of the window-sill. In this moment of
- approaching success, I feel my heart beating wildly. I put my revolver
- between my teeth. A quick spring, and I shall be on the window-ledge. But—the
- ladder! I had been obliged to press on it heavily, and my foot had
- scarcely left it, when I felt it swaying beneath me. It grated on the wall
- and fell. But, already, my knees were touching the window-sill, and, by a
- movement quick as lightning, I got on to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the murderer had been even quicker than I had been. He had heard the
- grating of the ladder on the wall, and I saw the monstrous back of the man
- raise itself. I saw his head. Did I really see it?—The candle on the
- parquet lit up his legs only. Above the height of the table the chamber
- was in darkness. I saw a man with long hair, a full beard, wild-looking
- eyes, a pale face, framed in large whiskers,—as well as I could
- distinguish, and, as I think—red in colour. I did not know the face.
- That was, in brief, the chief sensation I received from that face in the
- dim half-light in which I saw it. I did not know it—or, at least, I
- did not recognise it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now for quick action! It was indeed time for that, for as I was about to
- place my legs through the window, the man had seen me, had bounded to his
- feet, had sprung—as I foresaw he would—to the door of the
- ante-chamber, had time to open it, and fled. But I was already behind him,
- revolver in hand, shouting ‘Help!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “Like an arrow I crossed the room, but noticed a letter on the table as I
- rushed. I almost came up with the man in the ante-room, for he had lost
- time in opening the door to the gallery. I flew on wings, and in the
- gallery was but a few feet behind him. He had taken, as I supposed he
- would, the gallery on his right,—that is to say, the road he had
- prepared for his flight. ‘Help, Jacques!—help, Larsan!’ I cried. He
- could not escape us! I raised a shout of joy, of savage victory. The man
- reached the intersection of the two galleries hardly two seconds before me
- for the meeting which I had prepared—the fatal shock which must
- inevitably take place at that spot! We all rushed to the crossing-place—Monsieur
- Stangerson and I coming from one end of the right gallery, Daddy Jacques
- coming from the other end of the same gallery, and Frederic Larsan coming
- from the ‘off-turning’ gallery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The man was not there!
- </p>
- <p>
- “We looked at each other stupidly and with eyes terrified. The man had
- vanished like a ghost. ‘Where is he—where is he?’ we all asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘It is impossible he can have escaped!’ I cried, my terror mastered by my
- anger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I touched him!’ exclaimed Frederic Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I felt his breath on my face!’ cried Daddy Jacques.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Where is he?’—where is he?’ we all cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We raced like madmen along the two galleries; we visited doors and
- windows—they were closed, hermetically closed. They had not been
- opened. Besides, the opening of a door or window by this man whom we were
- hunting, without our having perceived it, would have been more
- inexplicable than his disappearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is he?—where is he?—He could not have got away by a
- door or a window, nor by any other way. He could not have passed through
- our bodies!
- </p>
- <p>
- “I confess that, for the moment, I felt ‘done for.’ For the gallery was
- perfectly lighted, and there was neither trap, nor secret door in the
- walls, nor any sort of hiding-place. We moved the chairs and lifted the
- pictures. Nothing!—nothing! We would have looked into a flower-pot,
- if there had been one to look into!”
- </p>
- <p>
- When this mystery, thanks to Rouletabille, was naturally explained, by the
- help alone of his masterful mind, we were able to realise that the
- murderer had got away neither by a door, a window, nor the stairs—a
- fact which the judges would not admit.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII. The Inexplicable Gallery
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson appeared at the door of her ante-room,” continues
- Rouletabille’s note-book. “We were near her door in the gallery where this
- incredible phenomenon had taken place. There are moments when one feels as
- if one’s brain were about to burst. A bullet in the head, a fracture of
- the skull, the seat of reason shattered—with only these can I
- compare the sensation which exhausted and left me void of sense.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Happily, Mademoiselle Stangerson appeared on the threshold of her
- ante-room. I saw her, and that helped to relieve my chaotic state of mind.
- I breathed her—I inhaled the perfume of the lady in black, whom I
- should never see again. I would have given ten years of my life—half
- my life—to see once more the lady in black! Alas! I no more meet her
- but from time to time,—and yet!—and yet! how the memory of
- that perfume—felt by me alone—carries me back to the days of
- my childhood.* It was this sharp reminder from my beloved perfume, of the
- lady in black, which made me go to her—dressed wholly in white and
- so pale—so pale and so beautiful!—on the threshold of the
- inexplicable gallery. Her beautiful golden hair, gathered into a knot on
- the back of her neck, left visible the red star on her temple which had so
- nearly been the cause of her death. When I first got on the right track of
- the mystery of this case I had imagined that, on the night of the tragedy
- in “The Yellow Room”, Mademoiselle Stangerson had worn her hair in bands.
- But then, how could I have imagined otherwise when I had not been in The
- Yellow Room!
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- * When I wrote these lines, Joseph Rouletabille was eighteen
- years of age,—and he spoke of his “youth.” I have kept the
- text of my friend, but I inform the reader here that the
- episode of the mystery of “The Yellow Room” has no connection
- with that of the perfume of the lady in black. It is not my
- fault if, in the document which I have cited, Rouletabille
- thought fit to refer to his childhood.
-</pre>
- <p>
- “But now, since the occurrence of the inexplicable gallery, I did not
- reason at all. I stood there, stupid, before the apparition—so pale
- and so beautiful—of Mademoiselle Stangerson. She was clad in a
- dressing-gown of dreamy white. One might have taken her to be a ghost—a
- lovely phantom. Her father took her in his arms and kissed her
- passionately, as if he had recovered her after being long lost to him. I
- dared not question her. He drew her into the room and we followed them,—for
- we had to know!—The door of the boudoir was open. The terrified
- faces of the two nurses craned towards us. Mademoiselle Stangerson
- inquired the meaning of all the disturbance. That she was not in her own
- room was quite easily explained—quite easily. She had a fancy not to
- sleep that night in her chamber, but in the boudoir with her nurses,
- locking the door on them. Since the night of the crime she had experienced
- feelings of terror, and fears came over her that are easily to be
- comprehended.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But who could imagine that on that particular night when he was to come,
- she would, by a mere chance, determine to shut herself in with her women?
- Who would think that she would act contrary to her father’s wish to sleep
- in the drawing-room? Who could believe that the letter which had so
- recently been on the table in her room would no longer be there? He who
- could understand all this, would have to assume that Mademoiselle
- Stangerson knew that the murderer was coming—she could not prevent
- his coming again—unknown to her father, unknown to all but to
- Monsieur Robert Darzac. For he must know it now—perhaps he had known
- it before! Did he remember that phrase in the Elysee garden: ‘Must I
- commit a crime, then, to win you?’ Against whom the crime, if not against
- the obstacle, against the murderer? ‘Ah, I would kill him with my own
- hand!’ And I replied, ‘You have not answered my question.’ That was the
- very truth. In truth, in truth, Monsieur Darzac knew the murderer so well
- that—while wishing to kill him himself—he was afraid I should
- find him. There could be but two reasons why he had assisted me in my
- investigation. First, because I forced him to do it; and, second, because
- she would be the better protected.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am in the chamber—her room. I look at her, also at the place
- where the letter had just now been. She has possessed herself of it; it
- was evidently intended for her—evidently. How she trembles!—Trembles
- at the strange story her father is telling her, of the presence of the
- murderer in her chamber, and of the pursuit. But it is plainly to be seen
- that she is not wholly satisfied by the assurance given her until she had
- been told that the murderer, by some incomprehensible means, had been able
- to elude us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then follows a silence. What a silence! We are all there—looking at
- her—her father, Larsan, Daddy Jacques and I. What were we all
- thinking of in the silence? After the events of that night, of the mystery
- of the inexplicable gallery, of the prodigious fact of the presence of the
- murderer in her room, it seemed to me that all our thoughts might have
- been translated into the words which were addressed to her. ‘You who know
- of this mystery, explain it to us, and we shall perhaps be able to save
- you. How I longed to save her—for herself, and, from the other!—It
- brought the tears to my eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is there, shedding about her the perfume of the lady in black. At
- last, I see her, in the silence of her chamber. Since the fatal hour of
- the mystery of “The Yellow Room”, we have hung about this invisible and
- silent woman to learn what she knows. Our desires, our wish to know must
- be a torment to her. Who can tell that, should we learn the secret of her
- mystery, it would not precipitate a tragedy more terrible than that which
- had already been enacted here? Who can tell if it might not mean her
- death? Yet it had brought her close to death,—and we still knew
- nothing. Or, rather, there are some of us who know nothing. But I—if
- I knew who, I should know all. Who?—Who?—Not knowing who, I
- must remain silent, out of pity for her. For there is no doubt that she
- knows how he escaped from “The Yellow Room”, and yet she keeps the secret.
- When I know who, I will speak to him—to him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She looked at us now—with a far-away look in her eyes—as if
- we were not in the chamber. Monsieur Stangerson broke the silence. He
- declared that, henceforth, he would no more absent himself from his
- daughter’s apartments. She tried to oppose him in vain. He adhered firmly
- to his purpose. He would install himself there this very night, he said.
- Solely concerned for the health of his daughter, he reproached her for
- having left her bed. Then he suddenly began talking to her as if she were
- a little child. He smiled at her and seemed not to know either what he
- said or what he did. The illustrious professor had lost his head.
- Mademoiselle Stangerson in a tone of tender distress said: ‘Father!—father!’
- Daddy Jacques blows his nose, and Frederic Larsan himself is obliged to
- turn away to hide his emotion. For myself, I am able neither to think or
- feel. I felt an infinite contempt for myself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was the first time that Frederic Larsan, like myself, found himself
- face to face with Mademoiselle Stangerson since the attack in The Yellow
- Room. Like me, he had insisted on being allowed to question the unhappy
- lady; but he had not, any more than had I, been permitted. To him, as to
- me, the same answer had always been given: Mademoiselle Stangerson was too
- weak to receive us. The questionings of the examining magistrate had
- over-fatigued her. It was evidently intended not to give us any assistance
- in our researches. I was not surprised; but Frederic Larsan had always
- resented this conduct. It is true that he and I had a totally different
- theory of the crime.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I still catch myself repeating from the depths of my heart: ‘Save her!—save
- her without his speaking!’ Who is he—the murderer? Take him and shut
- his mouth. But Monsieur Darzac made it clear that in order to shut his
- mouth he must be killed. Have I the right to kill Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s murderer? No, I had not. But let him only give me the chance!
- Let me find out whether he is really a creature of flesh and blood!—Let
- me see his dead body, since it cannot be taken alive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could but make this woman, who does not even look at us, understand!
- She is absorbed by her fears and by her father’s distress of mind. And I
- can do nothing to save her. Yes, I will go to work once more and
- accomplish wonders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I move towards her. I would speak to her. I would entreat her to have
- confidence in me. I would, in a word, make her understand—she alone—that
- I know how the murderer escaped from “The Yellow Room”—that I have
- guessed the motives for her secrecy—and that I pity her with all my
- heart. But by her gestures she begged us to leave her alone, expressing
- weariness and the need for immediate rest. Monsieur Stangerson asked us to
- go back to our rooms and thanked us. Frederic Larsan and I bowed to him
- and, followed by Daddy Jacques, we regained the gallery. I heard Larsan
- murmur: ‘Strange! strange!’ He made a sign to me to go with him into his
- room. On the threshold he turned towards Daddy Jacques.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Did you see him distinctly?’ he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Who?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘The man?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Saw him!—why, he had a big red beard and red hair.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘That’s how he appeared to me,’ I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘And to me,’ said Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The great Fred and I were alone in his chamber, now, to talk over this
- thing. We talked for an hour, turning the matter over and viewing it from
- every side. From the questions put by him, from the explanation which he
- gives me, it is clear to me that—in spite of all our senses—he
- is persuaded the man disappeared by some secret passage in the chateau
- known to him alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘He knows the chateau,’ he said to me; ‘he knows it well.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘He is a rather tall man—well-built,’ I suggested.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘He is as tall as he wants to be,’ murmured Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I understand,’ I said; ‘but how do you account for his red hair and
- beard?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Too much beard—too much hair—false,’ says Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘That’s easily said. You are always thinking of Robert Darzac. You can’t
- get rid of that idea? I am certain that he is innocent.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘So much the better. I hope so; but everything condemns him. Did you
- notice the marks on the carpet?—Come and look at them.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I have seen them; they are the marks of the neat boots, the same as
- those we saw on the border of the lake.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Can you deny that they belong to Robert Darzac?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Of course, one may be mistaken.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Have you noticed that those footprints only go in one direction?—that
- there are no return marks? When the man came from the chamber, pursued by
- all of us, his footsteps left no traces behind them.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘He had, perhaps, been in the chamber for hours. The mud from his boots
- had dried, and he moved with such rapidity on the points of his toes—We
- saw him running, but we did not hear his steps.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suddenly put an end to this idle chatter—void of any logic, and
- made a sign to Larsan to listen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘There—below; some one is shutting a door.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I rise; Larsan follows me; we descend to the ground-floor of the chateau.
- I lead him to the little semi-circular room under the terrace beneath the
- window of the ‘off-turning’ gallery. I point to the door, now closed, open
- a short time before, under which a shaft of light is visible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘The forest-keeper!’ says Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Come on!’ I whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Prepared—I know not why—to believe that the keeper is the
- guilty man—I go to the door and rap smartly on it. Some might think
- that we were rather late in thinking of the keeper, since our first
- business, after having found that the murderer had escaped us in the
- gallery, ought to have been to search everywhere else,—around the
- chateau,—in the park—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had this criticism been made at the time, we could only have answered
- that the assassin had disappeared from the gallery in such a way that we
- thought he was no longer anywhere! He had eluded us when we all had our
- hands stretched out ready to seize him—when we were almost touching
- him. We had no longer any ground for hoping that we could clear up the
- mystery of that night.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As soon as I rapped at the door it was opened, and the keeper asked us
- quietly what we wanted. He was undressed and preparing to go to bed. The
- bed had not yet been disturbed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We entered and I affected surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Not gone to bed yet?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘No,’ he replied roughly. ‘I have been making a round of the park and in
- the woods. I am only just back—and sleepy. Good-night!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Listen,’ I said. ‘An hour or so ago, there was a ladder close by your
- window.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘What ladder?—I did not see any ladder. Good-night!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he simply put us out of the room. When we were outside I looked at
- Larsan. His face was impenetrable.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Well?’ I said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Well?’ he repeated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Does that open out any new view to you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was no mistaking Larsan’s bad temper. On re-entering the chateau, I
- heard him mutter:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘It would be strange—very strange—if I had deceived myself on
- that point!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “He seemed to be talking to me rather than to himself. He added: ‘In any
- case, we shall soon know what to think. The morning will bring light with
- it.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII. Rouletabille Has Drawn a Circle Between the Two Bumps on
- His Forehead
- </h2>
- <p>
- (EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF JOSEPH ROULETABILLE, continued)
- </p>
- <p>
- “We separated on the thresholds of our rooms, with a melancholy shake of
- the hands. I was glad to have aroused in him a suspicion of error. His was
- an original brain, very intelligent but—without method. I did not go
- to bed. I awaited the coming of daylight and then went down to the front
- of the chateau, and made a detour, examining every trace of footsteps
- coming towards it or going from it. These, however, were so mixed and
- confusing that I could make nothing of them. Here I may make a remark,—I
- am not accustomed to attach an exaggerated importance to exterior signs
- left in the track of a crime.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The method which traces the criminal by means of the tracks of his
- footsteps is altogether primitive. So many footprints are identical.
- However, in the disturbed state of my mind, I did go into the deserted
- court and did look at all the footprints I could find there, seeking for
- some indication, as a basis for reasoning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could but find a right starting-point! In despair I seated myself on
- a stone. For over an hour I busied myself with the common, ordinary work
- of a policeman. Like the least intelligent of detectives I went on blindly
- over the traces of footprints which told me just no more than they could.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I came to the conclusion that I was a fool, lower in the scale of
- intelligence than even the police of the modern romancer. Novelists build
- mountains of stupidity out of a footprint on the sand, or from an
- impression of a hand on the wall. That’s the way innocent men are brought
- to prison. It might convince an examining magistrate or the head of a
- detective department, but it’s not proof. You writers forget that what the
- senses furnish is not proof. If I am taking cognisance of what is offered
- me by my senses I do so but to bring the results within the circle of my
- reason. That circle may be the most circumscribed, but if it is, it has
- this advantage—it holds nothing but the truth! Yes, I swear that I
- have never used the evidence of the senses but as servants to my reason. I
- have never permitted them to become my master. They have not made of me
- that monstrous thing,—worse than a blind man,—a man who sees
- falsely. And that is why I can triumph over your error and your merely
- animal intelligence, Frederic Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be of good courage, then, friend Rouletabille; it is impossible that the
- incident of the inexplicable gallery should be outside the circle of your
- reason. You know that! Then have faith and take thought with yourself and
- forget not that you took hold of the right end when you drew that circle
- in your brain within which to unravel this mysterious play of
- circumstance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To it, once again! Go—back to the gallery. Take your stand on your
- reason and rest there as Frederic Larsan rests on his cane. You will then
- soon prove that the great Fred is nothing but a fool.
- </p>
- <p>
- —30th October. Noon.
- </p>
- <p>
- JOSEPH ROULETABILLE.”
- </p>
-<hr>
- <p>
- “I acted as I planned. With head on fire, I retraced my way to the
- gallery, and without having found anything more than I had seen on the
- previous night, the right hold I had taken of my reason drew me to
- something so important that I was obliged to cling to it to save myself
- from falling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now for the strength and patience to find sensible traces to fit in with
- my thinking—and these must come within the circle I have drawn
- between the two bumps on my forehead!
- </p>
- <p>
- —30th of October. Midnight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “JOSEPH ROULETABILLE.” <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX. Rouletabille Invites Me to Breakfast at the Donjon Inn
- </h2>
- <p>
- It was not until later that Rouletabille sent me the note-book in which he
- had written at length the story of the phenomenon of the inexplicable
- gallery. On the day I arrived at the Glandier and joined him in his room,
- he recounted to me, with the greatest detail, all that I have now related,
- telling me also how he had spent several hours in Paris where he had
- learned nothing that could be of any help to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The event of the inexplicable gallery had occurred on the night between
- the 29th and 30th of October, that is to say, three days before my return
- to the chateau. It was on the 2nd of November, then, that I went back to
- the Glandier, summoned there by my friend’s telegram, and taking the
- revolvers with me.
- </p>
- <p>
- I am now in Rouletabille’s room and he has finished his recital.
- </p>
- <p>
- While he had been telling me the story I noticed him continually rubbing
- the glass of the eyeglasses he had found on the side table. From the
- evident pleasure he was taking in handling them I felt they must be one of
- those sensible evidences destined to enter what he had called the circle
- of the right end of his reason. That strange and unique way of his, to
- express himself in terms wonderfully adequate for his thoughts, no longer
- surprised me. It was often necessary to know his thought to understand the
- terms he used; and it was not easy to penetrate into Rouletabille’s
- thinking.
- </p>
- <p>
- This lad’s brain was one of the most curious things I have ever observed.
- Rouletabille went on the even tenor of his way without suspecting the
- astonishment and even bewilderment he roused in others. I am sure he was
- not himself in the least conscious of the originality of his genius. He
- was himself and at ease wherever he happened to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he had finished his recital he asked me what I thought of it. I
- replied that I was much puzzled by his question. Then he begged me to try,
- in my turn, to take my reason in hand “by the right end.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” I said. “It seems to me that the point of departure of my
- reason would be this—there can be no doubt that the murderer you
- pursued was in the gallery.” I paused.
- </p>
- <p>
- “After making so good a start, you ought not to stop so soon,” he
- exclaimed. “Come, make another effort.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll try. Since he disappeared from the gallery without passing through
- any door or window, he must have escaped by some other opening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille looked at me pityingly, smiled carelessly, and remarked that
- I was reasoning like a postman, or—like Frederic Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille had alternate fits of admiration and disdain for the great
- Fred. It all depended as to whether Larsan’s discoveries tallied with
- Rouletabille’s reasoning or not. When they did he would exclaim: “He is
- really great!” When they did not he would grunt and mutter, “What an ass!”
- It was a petty side of the noble character of this strange youth.
- </p>
- <p>
- We had risen, and he led me into the park. When we reached the court and
- were making towards the gate, the sound of blinds thrown back against the
- wall made us turn our heads, and we saw, at a window on the first floor of
- the chateau, the ruddy and clean shaven face of a person I did not
- recognise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hullo!” muttered Rouletabille. “Arthur Rance!”—He lowered his head,
- quickened his pace, and I heard him ask himself between his teeth: “Was he
- in the chateau that night? What is he doing here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- We had gone some distance from the chateau when I asked him who this
- Arthur Rance was, and how he had come to know him. He referred to his
- story of that morning and I remembered that Mr. Arthur W. Rance was the
- American from Philadelphia with whom he had had so many drinks at the
- Elysee reception.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But was he not to have left France almost immediately?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt; that’s why I am surprised to find him here still, and not only
- in France, but above all, at the Glandier. He did not arrive this morning;
- and he did not get here last night. He must have got here before dinner,
- then. Why didn’t the concierges tell me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I reminded my friend, apropos of the concierges, that he had not yet told
- me what had led him to get them set at liberty.
- </p>
- <p>
- We were close to their lodge. Monsieur and Madame Bernier saw us coming. A
- frank smile lit up their happy faces. They seemed to harbour no
- ill-feeling because of their detention. My young friend asked them at what
- hour Mr. Arthur Rance had arrived. They answered that they did not know he
- was at the chateau. He must have come during the evening of the previous
- night, but they had not had to open the gate for him, because, being a
- great walker, and not wishing that a carriage should be sent to meet him,
- he was accustomed to get off at the little hamlet of Saint-Michel, from
- which he came to the chateau by way of the forest. He reached the park by
- the grotto of Sainte-Genevieve, over the little gate of which, giving on
- to the park, he climbed.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the concierges spoke, I saw Rouletabille’s face cloud over and exhibit
- disappointment—a disappointment, no doubt, with himself. Evidently
- he was a little vexed, after having worked so much on the spot, with so
- minute a study of the people and events at the Glandier, that he had to
- learn now that Arthur Rance was accustomed to visit the chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You say that Monsieur Arthur Rance is accustomed to come to the chateau.
- When did he come here last?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We can’t tell you exactly,” replied Madame Bernier—that was the
- name of the concierge—“we couldn’t know while they were keeping us
- in prison. Besides, as the gentleman comes to the chateau without passing
- through our gate he goes away by the way he comes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know when he came the first time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh yes, Monsieur!—nine years ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was in France nine years ago, then,” said Rouletabille, “and, since
- that time, as far as you know, how many times has he been at the
- Glandier?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three times.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When did he come the last time, as far as you know?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A week before the attempt in “The Yellow Room”.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille put another question—this time addressing himself
- particularly to the woman:
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the grove of the parquet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the grove of the parquet,” she replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks!” said Rouletabille. “Be ready for me this evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke the last words with a finger on his lips as if to command silence
- and discretion.
- </p>
- <p>
- We left the park and took the way to the Donjon Inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you often eat here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sometimes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you also take your meals at the chateau?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Larsan and I are sometimes served in one of our rooms.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hasn’t Monsieur Stangerson ever invited you to his own table?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does your presence at the chateau displease him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know; but, in any case, he does not make us feel that we are in
- his way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doesn’t he question you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never. He is in the same state of mind as he was in at the door of The
- Yellow Room when his daughter was being murdered, and when he broke open
- the door and did not find the murderer. He is persuaded, since he could
- discover nothing, that there’s no reason why we should be able to discover
- more than he did. But he has made it his duty, since Larsan expressed his
- theory, not to oppose us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille buried himself in thought again for some time. He aroused
- himself later to tell me of how he came to set the two concierges free.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I went recently to see Monsieur Stangerson, and took with me a piece of
- paper on which was written: ‘I promise, whatever others may say, to keep
- in my service my two faithful servants, Bernier and his wife.’ I explained
- to him that, by signing that document, he would enable me to compel those
- two people to speak out; and I declared my own assurance of their
- innocence of any part in the crime. That was also his opinion. The
- examining magistrate, after it was signed, presented the document to the
- Berniers, who then did speak. They said, what I was certain they would
- say, as soon as they were sure they would not lose their place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They confessed to poaching on Monsieur Stangerson’s estates, and it was
- while they were poaching, on the night of the crime, that they were found
- not far from the pavilion at the moment when the outrage was being
- committed. Some rabbits they caught in that way were sold by them to the
- landlord of the Donjon Inn, who served them to his customers, or sent them
- to Paris. That was the truth, as I had guessed from the first. Do you
- remember what I said, on entering the Donjon Inn?—‘We shall have to
- eat red meat—now!’ I had heard the words on the same morning when we
- arrived at the park gate. You heard them also, but you did not attach any
- importance to them. You recollect, when we reached the park gate, that we
- stopped to look at a man who was running by the side of the wall, looking
- every minute at his watch. That was Larsan. Well, behind us the landlord
- of the Donjon Inn, standing on his doorstep, said to someone inside: ‘We
- shall have to eat red meat—now.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why that ‘now’? When you are, as I am, in search of some hidden secret,
- you can’t afford to have anything escape you. You’ve got to know the
- meaning of everything. We had come into a rather out-of-the-way part of
- the country which had been turned topsy-turvey by a crime, and my reason
- led me to suspect every phrase that could bear upon the event of the day.
- ‘Now,’ I took to mean, ‘since the outrage.’ In the course of my inquiry,
- therefore, I sought to find a relation between that phrase and the
- tragedy. We went to the Donjon Inn for breakfast; I repeated the phrase
- and saw, by the surprise and trouble on Daddy Mathieu’s face, that I had
- not exaggerated its importance, so far as he was concerned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had just learned that the concierges had been arrested. Daddy Mathieu
- spoke of them as of dear friends—people for whom one is sorry. That
- was a reckless conjunction of ideas, I said to myself. ‘Now,’ that the
- concierges are arrested, ‘we shall have to eat red meat.’ No more
- concierges, no more game! The hatred expressed by Daddy Mathieu for
- Monsieur Stangerson’s forest-keeper—a hatred he pretended was shared
- by the concierges led me easily to think of poaching. Now as all the
- evidence showed the concierges had not been in bed at the time of the
- tragedy, why were they abroad that night? As participants in the crime? I
- was not disposed to think so. I had already arrived at the conclusion, by
- steps of which I will tell you later—that the assassin had had no
- accomplice, and that the tragedy held a mystery between Mademoiselle
- Stangerson and the murderer, a mystery with which the concierges had
- nothing to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With that theory in my mind, I searched for proof in their lodge, which,
- as you know, I entered. I found there under their bed, some springs and
- brass wire. ‘Ah!’ I thought, ‘these things explain why they were out in
- the park at night!’ I was not surprised at the dogged silence they
- maintained before the examining magistrate, even under the accusation so
- grave as that of being accomplices in the crime. Poaching would save them
- from the Assize Court, but it would lose them their places; and, as they
- were perfectly sure of their innocence of the crime they hoped it would
- soon be established, and then their poaching might go on as usual. They
- could always confess later. I, however, hastened their confession by means
- of the document Monsieur Stangerson signed. They gave all the necessary
- ‘proofs,’ were set at liberty, and have now a lively gratitude for me. Why
- did I not get them released sooner? Because I was not sure that nothing
- more than poaching was against them. I wanted to study the ground. As the
- days went by, my conviction became more and more certain. The day after
- the events of the inexplicable gallery I had need of help I could rely on,
- so I resolved to have them released at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That was how Joseph Rouletabille explained himself. Once more I could not
- but be astonished at the simplicity of the reasoning which had brought him
- to the truth of the matter. Certainly this was no big thing; but I think,
- myself, that the young man will, one of these days, explain with the same
- simplicity, the fearful tragedy in “The Yellow Room” as well as the
- phenomenon of the inexplicable gallery.
- </p>
- <p>
- We reached the Donjon Inn and entered it.
- </p>
- <p>
- This time we did not see the landlord, but were received with a pleasant
- smile by the hostess. I have already described the room in which we found
- ourselves, and I have given a glimpse of the charming blonde woman with
- the gentle eyes who now immediately began to prepare our breakfast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How’s Daddy Mathieu?” asked Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not much better—not much better; he is still confined to his bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His rheumatism still sticks to him, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Last night I was again obliged to give him morphine—the only
- drug that gives him any relief.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She spoke in a soft voice. Everything about her expressed gentleness. She
- was, indeed, a beautiful woman; somewhat with an air of indolence, with
- great eyes seemingly black and blue—amorous eyes. Was she happy with
- her crabbed, rheumatic husband? The scene at which we had once been
- present did not lead us to believe that she was; yet there was something
- in her bearing that was not suggestive of despair. She disappeared into
- the kitchen to prepare our repast, leaving on the table a bottle of
- excellent cider. Rouletabille filled our earthenware mugs, loaded his
- pipe, and quietly explained to me his reason for asking me to come to the
- Glandier with revolvers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he said, contemplatively looking at the clouds of smoke he was
- puffing out, “yes, my dear boy, I expect the assassin to-night.” A brief
- silence followed, which I took care not to interrupt, and then he went on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night, just as I was going to bed, Monsieur Robert Darzac knocked at
- my room. When he came in he confided to me that he was compelled to go to
- Paris the next day, that is, this morning. The reason which made this
- journey necessary was at once peremptory and mysterious; it was not
- possible for him to explain its object to me. ‘I go, and yet,’ he added,
- ‘I would give my life not to leave Mademoiselle Stangerson at this
- moment.’ He did not try to hide that he believed her to be once more in
- danger. ‘It will not greatly astonish me if something happens to-morrow
- night,’ he avowed, ‘and yet I must be absent. I cannot be back at the
- Glandier before the morning of the day after to-morrow.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I asked him to explain himself, and this is all he would tell me. His
- anticipation of coming danger had come to him solely from the coincidence
- that Mademoiselle Stangerson had been twice attacked, and both times when
- he had been absent. On the night of the incident of the inexplicable
- gallery he had been obliged to be away from the Glandier. On the night of
- the tragedy in “The Yellow Room” he had also not been able to be at the
- Glandier, though this was the first time he had declared himself on the
- matter. Now a man so moved who would still go away must be acting under
- compulsion—must be obeying a will stronger than his own. That was
- how I reasoned, and I told him so. He replied ‘Perhaps.’—I asked him
- if Mademoiselle Stangerson was compelling him. He protested that she was
- not. His determination to go to Paris had been taken without any
- conference with Mademoiselle Stangerson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To cut the story short, he repeated that his belief in the possibility of
- a fresh attack was founded entirely on the extraordinary coincidence. ‘If
- anything happens to Mademoiselle Stangerson,’ he said, ‘it would be
- terrible for both of us. For her, because her life would be in danger; for
- me because I could neither defend her from the attack nor tell of where I
- had been. I am perfectly aware of the suspicions cast on me. The examining
- magistrate and Monsieur Larsan are both on the point of believing in my
- guilt. Larsan tracked me the last time I went to Paris, and I had all the
- trouble in the world to get rid of him.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Why do you not tell me the name of the murderer now, if you know it?’ I
- cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Darzac appeared extremely troubled by my question, and replied
- to me in a hesitating tone:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I?—I know the name of the murderer? Why, how could I know his
- name?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I at once replied: ‘From Mademoiselle Stangerson.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “He grew so pale that I thought he was about to faint, and I saw that I
- had hit the nail right on the head. Mademoiselle and he knew the name of
- the murderer! When he recovered himself, he said to me: ‘I am going to
- leave you. Since you have been here I have appreciated your exceptional
- intelligence and your unequalled ingenuity. But I ask this service of you.
- Perhaps I am wrong to fear an attack during the coming night; but, as I
- must act with foresight, I count on you to frustrate any attempt that may
- be made. Take every step needful to protect Mademoiselle Stangerson. Keep
- a most careful watch of her room. Don’t go to sleep, nor allow yourself
- one moment of repose. The man we dread is remarkably cunning—with a
- cunning that has never been equalled. If you keep watch his very cunning
- may save her; because it’s impossible that he should not know that you are
- watching; and knowing it, he may not venture.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Have you spoken of all this to Monsieur Stangerson?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘No. I do not wish him to ask me, as you just now did, for the name of
- the murderer. I tell you all this, Monsieur Rouletabille, because I have
- great, very great, confidence in you. I know that you do not suspect me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “The poor man spoke in jerks. He was evidently suffering. I pitied him,
- the more because I felt sure that he would rather allow himself to be
- killed than tell me who the murderer was. As for Mademoiselle Stangerson,
- I felt that she would rather allow herself to be murdered than denounce
- the man of “The Yellow Room” and of the inexplicable gallery. The man must
- be dominating her, or both, by some inscrutable power. They were dreading
- nothing so much as the chance of Monsieur Stangerson knowing that his
- daughter was ‘held’ by her assailant. I made Monsieur Darzac understand
- that he had explained himself sufficiently, and that he might refrain from
- telling me any more than he had already told me. I promised him to watch
- through the night. He insisted that I should establish an absolutely
- impassable barrier around Mademoiselle Stangerson’s chamber, around the
- boudoir where the nurses were sleeping, and around the drawing-room where,
- since the affair of the inexplicable gallery, Monsieur Stangerson had
- slept. In short, I was to put a cordon round the whole apartment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “From his insistence I gathered that Monsieur Darzac intended not only to
- make it impossible for the expected man to reach the chamber of
- Mademoiselle Stangerson, but to make that impossibility so visibly clear
- that, seeing himself expected, he would at once go away. That was how I
- interpreted his final words when we parted: ‘You may mention your
- suspicions of the expected attack to Monsieur Stangerson, to Daddy
- Jacques, to Frederic Larsan, and to anybody in the chateau.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “The poor fellow left me hardly knowing what he was saying. My silence and
- my eyes told him that I had guessed a large part of his secret. And,
- indeed, he must have been at his wits’ end, to have come to me at such a
- time, and to abandon Mademoiselle Stangerson in spite of his fixed idea as
- to the consequence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When he was gone, I began to think that I should have to use even a
- greater cunning than his so that if the man should come that night, he
- might not for a moment suspect that his coming had been expected.
- Certainly! I would allow him to get in far enough, so that, dead or alive,
- I might see his face clearly! He must be got rid of. Mademoiselle
- Stangerson must be freed from this continual impending danger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my boy,” said Rouletabille, after placing his pipe on the table, and
- emptying his mug of cider, “I must see his face distinctly, so as to make
- sure to impress it on that part of my brain where I have drawn my circle
- of reasoning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The landlady re-appeared at that moment, bringing in the traditional bacon
- omelette. Rouletabille chaffed her a little, and she took the chaff with
- the most charming good humour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is much jollier when Daddy Mathieu is in bed with his rheumatism,”
- Rouletabille said to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I had eyes neither for Rouletabille nor for the landlady’s smiles. I
- was entirely absorbed over the last words of my young friend and in
- thinking over Monsieur Robert Darzac’s strange behaviour.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he had finished his omelette and we were again alone, Rouletabille
- continued the tale of his confidences.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I sent you my telegram this morning,” he said, “I had only the word
- of Monsieur Darzac, that ‘perhaps’ the assassin would come to-night. I can
- now say that he will certainly come. I expect him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What has made you feel this certainty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been sure since half-past ten o’clock this morning that he would
- come. I knew that before we saw Arthur Rance at the window in the court.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” I said, “But, again—what made you so sure? And why since
- half-past ten this morning?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because, at half-past ten, I had proof that Mademoiselle Stangerson was
- making as many efforts to permit of the murderer’s entrance as Monsieur
- Robert Darzac had taken precautions against it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that possible!” I cried. “Haven’t you told me that Mademoiselle
- Stangerson loves Monsieur Robert Darzac?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told you so because it is the truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then do you see nothing strange—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything in this business is strange, my friend; but take my word for
- it, the strangeness you now feel is nothing to the strangeness that’s to
- come!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be admitted, then,” I said, “that Mademoiselle Stangerson and her
- murderer are in communication—at any rate in writing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Admit it, my friend, admit it! You don’t risk anything! I told you about
- the letter left on her table, on the night of the inexplicable gallery
- affair,—the letter that disappeared into the pocket of Mademoiselle
- Stangerson. Why should it not have been a summons to a meeting? Might he
- not, as soon as he was sure of Darzac’s absence, appoint the meeting for
- ‘the coming night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And my friend laughed silently. There are moments when I ask myself if he
- is not laughing at me.
- </p>
- <p>
- The door of the inn opened. Rouletabille was on his feet so suddenly that
- one might have thought he had received an electric shock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Arthur Rance!” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Arthur Rance stood before us calmly bowing.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX. An Act of Mademoiselle Stangerson
- </h2>
- <p>
- “You remember me, Monsieur?” asked Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly!” replied Arthur Rance. “I recognise you as the lad at the bar.
- [The face of Rouletabille crimsoned at being called a “lad.”] I want to
- shake hands with you. You are a bright little fellow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The American extended his hand and Rouletabille, relaxing his frown, shook
- it and introduced Mr. Arthur Rance to me. He invited him to share our
- meal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No thanks. I breakfasted with Monsieur Stangerson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur Rance spoke French perfectly,—almost without an accent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not expect to have the pleasure of seeing you again, Monsieur. I
- thought you were to have left France the day after the reception at the
- Elysee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille and I, outwardly indifferent, listened most intently for
- every word the American would say.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man’s purplish red face, his heavy eyelids, the nervous twitchings,
- all spoke of his addiction to drink. How came it that so sorry a specimen
- of a man should be so intimate with Monsieur Stangerson?
- </p>
- <p>
- Some days later, I learned from Frederic Larsan—who, like ourselves,
- was surprised and mystified by his appearance and reception at the chateau—that
- Mr. Rance had been an inebriate for only about fifteen years; that is to
- say, since the professor and his daughter left Philadelphia. During the
- time the Stangersons lived in America they were very intimate with Arthur
- Rance, who was one of the most distinguished phrenologists of the new
- world. Owing to new experiments, he had made enormous strides beyond the
- science of Gall and Lavater. The friendliness with which he was received
- at the Glandier may be explained by the fact that he had once rendered
- Mademoiselle Stangerson a great service by stopping, at the peril of his
- own life, the runaway horses of her carriage. The immediate result of that
- could, however, have been no more than a mere friendly association with
- the Stangersons; certainly, not a love affair.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederic Larsan did not tell me where he had picked up this information;
- but he appeared to be quite sure of what he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Had we known these facts at the time Arthur Rance met us at the Donjon
- Inn, his presence at the chateau might not have puzzled us, but they could
- not have failed to increase our interest in the man himself. The American
- must have been at least forty-five years old. He spoke in a perfectly
- natural tone in reply to Rouletabille’s question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I put off my return to America when I heard of the attack on Mademoiselle
- Stangerson. I wanted to be certain the lady had not been killed, and I
- shall not go away until she is perfectly recovered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur Rance then took the lead in talk, paying no heed to some of
- Rouletabille’s questions. He gave us, without our inviting him, his
- personal views on the subject of the tragedy,—views which, as well
- as I could make out, were not far from those held by Frederic Larzan. The
- American also thought that Robert Darzac had something to do with the
- matter. He did not mention him by name, but there was no room to doubt
- whom he meant. He told us he was aware of the efforts young Rouletabille
- was making to unravel the tangled skein of “The Yellow Room” mystery. He
- explained that Monsieur Stangerson had related to him all that had taken
- place in the inexplicable gallery. He several times expressed his regret
- at Monsieur Darzac’s absence from the chateau on all these occasions, and
- thought that Monsieur Darzac had done cleverly in allying himself with
- Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, who could not fail, sooner or later, to
- discover the murderer. He spoke the last sentence with unconcealed irony.
- Then he rose, bowed to us, and left the inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille watched him through the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “An odd fish, that!” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think he’ll pass the night at the Glandier?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- To my amazement the young reporter answered that it was a matter of entire
- indifference to him whether he did or not.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to how we spent our time during the afternoon, all I need say is that
- Rouletabille led me to the grotto of Sainte-Genevieve, and, all the time,
- talked of every subject but the one in which we were most interested.
- Towards evening I was surprised to find Rouletabille making none of the
- preparations I had expected him to make. I spoke to him about it when
- night had come on, and we were once more in his room. He replied that all
- his arrangements had already been made, and this time the murderer would
- not get away from him.
- </p>
- <p>
- I expressed some doubt on this, reminding him of his disappearance in the
- gallery, and suggested that the same phenomenon might occur again. He
- answered that he hoped it would. He desired nothing more. I did not
- insist, knowing by experience how useless that would have been. He told me
- that, with the help of the concierges, the chateau had since early dawn
- been watched in such a way that nobody could approach it without his
- knowing it, and that he had no concern for those who might have left it
- and remained without.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was then six o’clock by his watch. Rising, he made a sign to me to
- follow him, and, without in the least trying to conceal his movements or
- the sound of his footsteps, he led me through the gallery. We reached the
- ‘right’ gallery and came to the landing-place which we crossed. We then
- continued our way in the gallery of the left wing, passing Professor
- Stangerson’s apartment.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the far end of the gallery, before coming to the donjon, is the room
- occupied by Arthur Rance. We knew that, because we had seen him at the
- window looking on to the court. The door of the room opens on to the end
- of the gallery, exactly facing the east window, at the extremity of the
- ‘right’ gallery, where Rouletabille had placed Daddy Jacques, and commands
- an uninterrupted view of the gallery from end to end of the chateau.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That ‘off-turning’ gallery,” said Rouletabille, “I reserve for myself;
- when I tell you you’ll come and take your place here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he made me enter a little dark, triangular closet built in a bend of
- the wall, to the left of the door of Arthur Rance’s room. From this recess
- I could see all that occurred in the gallery as well as if I had been
- standing in front of Arthur Rance’s door, and I could watch that door,
- too. The door of the closet, which was to be my place of observation, was
- fitted with panels of transparent glass. In the gallery, where all the
- lamps had been lit, it was quite light. In the closet, however, it was
- quite dark. It was a splendid place from which to observe and remain
- unobserved.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was soon to play the part of a spy—a common policeman. I wonder
- what my leader at the bar would have said had he known! I was not
- altogether pleased with my duties, but I could not refuse Rouletabille the
- assistance he had begged me to give him. I took care not to make him see
- that I in the least objected, and for several reasons. I wanted to oblige
- him; I did not wish him to think me a coward; I was filled with curiosity;
- and it was too late for me to draw back, even had I determined to do so.
- That I had not had these scruples sooner was because my curiosity had
- quite got the better of me. I might also urge that I was helping to save
- the life of a woman, and even a lawyer may do that conscientiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- We returned along the gallery. On reaching the door of Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s apartment, it opened from a push given by the steward who was
- waiting at the dinner-table. (Monsieur Stangerson had, for the last three
- days, dined with his daughter in the drawing-room on the first floor.) As
- the door remained open, we distinctly saw Mademoiselle Stangerson, taking
- advantage of the steward’s absence, and while her father was stooping to
- pick up something he had let fall, pour the contents of a phial into
- Monsieur Stangerson’s glass.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI. On the Watch
- </h2>
- <p>
- The act, which staggered me, did not appear to affect Rouletabille much.
- We returned to his room and, without even referring to what we had seen,
- he gave me his final instructions for the night. First we were to go to
- dinner; after dinner, I was to take my stand in the dark closet and wait
- there as long as it was necessary—to look out for what might happen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you see anything before I do,” he explained, “you must let me know. If
- the man gets into the ‘right’ gallery by any other way than the
- ‘off-turning’ gallery, you will see him before I shall, because you have a
- view along the whole length of the ‘right’ gallery, while I can only
- command a view of the ‘off-turning’ gallery. All you need do to let me
- know is to undo the cord holding the curtain of the ‘right’ gallery
- window, nearest to the dark closet. The curtain will fall of itself and
- immediately leave a square of shadow where previously there had been a
- square of light. To do this, you need but stretch your hand out of the
- closet, I shall understand your signal perfectly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you will see me coming round the corner of the ‘off-turning’
- gallery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What am I to do then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will immediately come towards me, behind the man; but I shall already
- be upon him, and shall have seen his face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I attempted a feeble smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why do you smile? Well, you may smile while you have the chance, but I
- swear you’ll have no time for that a few hours from now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if the man escapes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So much the better,” said Rouletabille, coolly, “I don’t want to capture
- him. He may take himself off any way he can. I will let him go—after
- I have seen his face. That’s all I want. I shall know afterwards what to
- do so that as far as Mademoiselle Stangerson is concerned he shall be dead
- to her even though he continues to live. If I took him alive, Mademoiselle
- Stangerson and Robert Darzac would, perhaps, never forgive me! And I wish
- to retain their good-will and respect.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seeing, as I have just now seen, Mademoiselle Stangerson pour a narcotic
- into her father’s glass, so that he might not be awake to interrupt the
- conversation she is going to have with her murderer, you can imagine she
- would not be grateful to me if I brought the man of “The Yellow Room” and
- the inexplicable gallery, bound and gagged, to her father. I realise now
- that if I am to save the unhappy lady, I must silence the man and not
- capture him. To kill a human being is no small thing. Besides, that’s not
- my business, unless the man himself makes it my business. On the other
- hand, to render him forever silent without the lady’s assent and
- confidence is to act on one’s own initiative and assumes a knowledge of
- everything with nothing for a basis. Fortunately, my friend, I have
- guessed, no, I have reasoned it all out. All that I ask of the man who is
- coming to-night is to bring me his face, so that it may enter—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Into the circle?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly! And his face won’t surprise me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I thought you saw his face on the night when you sprang into the
- chamber?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only imperfectly. The candle was on the floor; and, his beard—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will he wear his beard this evening?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think I can say for certain that he will. But the gallery is light and,
- now, I know—or—at least, my brain knows—and my eyes will
- see.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we are here only to see him and let him escape, why are we armed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because, if the man of “The Yellow Room” and the inexplicable gallery knows
- that I know, he is capable of doing anything! We should then have to
- defend ourselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are sure he will come to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As sure as that you are standing there! This morning, at half-past ten
- o’clock, Mademoiselle Stangerson, in the cleverest way in the world,
- arranged to have no nurses to-night. She gave them leave of absence for
- twenty-four hours, under some plausible pretexts, and did not desire
- anybody to be with her but her father, while they are away. Her father,
- who is to sleep in the boudoir, has gladly consented to the arrangement.
- Darzac’s departure and what he told me, as well as the extraordinary
- precautions Mademoiselle Stangerson is taking to be alone to-night leaves
- me no room for doubt. She has prepared the way for the coming of the man
- whom Darzac dreads.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s awful!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what we saw her do was done to send her father to sleep?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then there are but two of us for to-night’s work?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Four; the concierge and his wife will watch at all hazards. I don’t set
- much value on them before—but the concierge may be useful after—if
- there’s to be any killing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you think there may be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he wishes it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why haven’t you brought in Daddy Jacques?—Have you made no use of
- him to-day?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied Rouletabille sharply.
- </p>
- <p>
- I kept silence for awhile, then, anxious to know his thoughts, I asked him
- point blank:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not tell Arthur Rance?—He may be of great assistance to us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” said Rouletabille crossly, “then you want to let everybody into
- Mademoiselle Stangerson’s secrets?—Come, let us go to dinner; it is
- time. This evening we dine in Frederic Larsan’s room,—at least, if
- he is not on the heels of Darzac. He sticks to him like a leech. But,
- anyhow, if he is not there now, I am quite sure he will be, to-night! He’s
- the one I am going to knock over!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment we heard a noise in the room near us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be he,” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I forgot to ask you,” I said, “if we are to make any allusion to
- to-night’s business when we are with this policeman. I take it we are not.
- Is that so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently. We are going to operate alone, on our own personal account.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So that all the glory will be ours?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- We dined with Frederic Larsan in his room. He told us he had just come in
- and invited us to be seated at table. We ate our dinner in the best of
- humours, and I had no difficulty in appreciating the feelings of certainty
- which both Rouletabille and Larsan felt. Rouletabille told the great Fred
- that I had come on a chance visit, and that he had asked me to stay and
- help him in the heavy batch of writing he had to get through for the
- “Epoque.” I was going back to Paris, he said, by the eleven o’clock train,
- taking his “copy,” which took a story form, recounting the principal
- episodes in the mysteries of the Glandier. Larsan smiled at the
- explanation like a man who was not fooled and politely refrains from
- making the slightest remark on matters which did not concern him.
- </p>
- <p>
- With infinite precautions as to the words they used, and even as to the
- tones of their voices, Larsan and Rouletabille discussed, for a long time,
- Mr. Arthur Rance’s appearance at the chateau, and his past in America,
- about which they expressed a desire to know more, at any rate, so far as
- his relations with the Stangersons. At one time, Larsan, who appeared to
- me to be unwell, said, with an effort:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think, Monsieur Rouletabille, that we’ve not much more to do at the
- Glandier, and that we sha’n’t sleep here many more nights.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think so, too, Monsieur Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you think the conclusion of the matter has been reached?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think, indeed, that we have nothing more to find out,” replied
- Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you found your criminal?” asked Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So have I,” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can it be the same man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know if you have swerved from your original idea,” said the young
- reporter. Then he added, with emphasis: “Monsieur Darzac is an honest
- man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you sure of that?” asked Larsan. “Well, I am sure he is not. So it’s
- a fight then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, it is a fight. But I shall beat you, Monsieur Frederic Larsan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Youth never doubts anything,” said the great Fred laughingly, and held
- out his hand to me by way of conclusion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille’s answer came like an echo:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not anything!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly Larsan, who had risen to wish us goodnight, pressed both his
- hands to his chest and staggered. He was obliged to lean on Rouletabille
- for support, and to save himself from falling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! Oh!” he cried. “What is the matter with me?—Have I been
- poisoned?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at us with haggard eyes. We questioned him vainly; he did not
- answer us. He had sunk into an armchair and we could get not a word from
- him. We were extremely distressed, both on his account and on our own, for
- we had partaken of all the dishes he had eaten. He seemed to be out of
- pain; but his heavy head had fallen on his shoulder and his eyelids were
- tightly closed. Rouletabille bent over him, listening for the beatings of
- the heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- My friend’s face, however, when he stood up, was as calm as it had been a
- moment before agitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is asleep,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He led me to his chamber, after closing Larsan’s room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The drug?” I asked. “Does Mademoiselle Stangerson wish to put everybody
- to sleep, to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps,” replied Rouletabille; but I could see he was thinking of
- something else.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what about us?” I exclaimed. “How do we know that we have not been
- drugged?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you feel indisposed?” Rouletabille asked me coolly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not in the least.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you feel any inclination to go to sleep?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None whatever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, my friend, smoke this excellent cigar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he handed me a choice Havana, one Monsieur Darzac had given him, while
- he lit his briarwood—his eternal briarwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- We remained in his room until about ten o’clock without a word passing
- between us. Buried in an armchair Rouletabille sat and smoked steadily,
- his brow in thought and a far-away look in his eyes. On the stroke of ten
- he took off his boots and signalled to me to do the same. As we stood in
- our socks he said, in so low a tone that I guessed, rather than heard, the
- word:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Revolver.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I drew my revolver from my jacket pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cock it!” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- I did as he directed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then moving towards the door of his room, he opened it with infinite
- precaution; it made no sound. We were in the “off-turning” gallery.
- Rouletabille made another sign to me which I understood to mean that I was
- to take up my post in the dark closet.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I was some distance from him, he rejoined me and embraced me; and
- then I saw him, with the same precaution, return to his room. Astonished
- by his embrace, and somewhat disquieted by it, I arrived at the right
- gallery without difficulty, crossing the landing-place, and reaching the
- dark closet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before entering it I examined the curtain-cord of the window and found
- that I had only to release it from its fastening with my fingers for the
- curtain to fall by its own weight and hide the square of light from
- Rouletabille—the signal agreed upon. The sound of a footstep made me
- halt before Arthur Rance’s door. He was not yet in bed, then! How was it
- that, being in the chateau, he had not dined with Monsieur Stangerson and
- his daughter? I had not seen him at table with them, at the moment when we
- looked in.
- </p>
- <p>
- I retired into the dark closet. I found myself perfectly situated. I could
- see along the whole length of the gallery. Nothing, absolutely nothing
- could pass there without my seeing it. But what was going to pass there?
- Rouletabille’s embrace came back to my mind. I argued that people don’t
- part from each, other in that way unless on an important or dangerous
- occasion. Was I then in danger?
- </p>
- <p>
- My hand closed on the butt of my revolver and I waited. I am not a hero;
- but neither am I a coward.
- </p>
- <p>
- I waited about an hour, and during all that time I saw nothing unusual.
- The rain, which had begun to come down strongly towards nine o’clock, had
- now ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- My friend had told me that, probably, nothing would occur before midnight
- or one o’clock in the morning. It was not more than half-past eleven,
- however, when I heard the door of Arthur Rance’s room open very slowly.
- The door remained open for a minute, which seemed to me a long time. As it
- opened into the gallery, that is to say, outwards, I could not see what
- was passing in the room behind the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment I noticed a strange sound, three times repeated, coming
- from the park. Ordinarily I should not have attached any more importance
- to it than I would to the noise of cats on the roof. But the third time,
- the mew was so sharp and penetrating that I remembered what I had heard
- about the cry of the Bete du bon Dieu. As the cry had accompanied all the
- events at the Glandier, I could not refrain from shuddering at the
- thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- Directly afterwards I saw a man appear on the outside of the door, and
- close it after him. At first I could not recognise him, for his back was
- towards me and he was bending over a rather bulky package. When he had
- closed the door and picked up the package, he turned towards the dark
- closet, and then I saw who he was. He was the forest-keeper, the Green
- Man. He was wearing the same costume that he had worn when I first saw him
- on the road in front of the Donjon Inn. There was no doubt about his being
- the keeper. As the cry of the Bete du Bon Dieu came for the third time, he
- put down the package and went to the second window, counting from the dark
- closet. I dared not risk making any movement, fearing I might betray my
- presence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Arriving at the window, he peered out on to the park. The night was now
- light, the moon showing at intervals. The Green Man raised his arms twice,
- making signs which I did not understand; then, leaving the window, he
- again took up his package and moved along the gallery towards the
- landing-place.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille had instructed me to undo the curtain-cord when I saw
- anything. Was Rouletabille expecting this? It was not my business to
- question. All I had to do was obey instructions. I unfastened the
- window-cord; my heart beating the while as if it would burst. The man
- reached the landing-place, but, to my utter surprise—I had expected
- to see him continue to pass along the gallery—I saw him descend the
- stairs leading to the vestibule.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was I to do? I looked stupidly at the heavy curtain which had shut
- the light from the window. The signal had been given, and I did not see
- Rouletabille appear at the corner of the off-turning gallery. Nobody
- appeared. I was exceedingly perplexed. Half an hour passed, an age to me.
- What was I to do now, even if I saw something? The signal once given I
- could not give it a second time. To venture into the gallery might upset
- all Rouletabille’s plans. After all, I had nothing to reproach myself for,
- and if something had happened that my friend had not expected he could
- only blame himself. Unable to be of any further assistance to him by means
- of a signal, I left the dark closet and, still in my socks, made my way to
- the “off-turning” gallery.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no one there. I went to the door of Rouletabille’s room and
- listened. I could hear nothing. I knocked gently. There was no answer. I
- turned the door-handle and the door opened. I entered. Rouletabille lay
- extended at full length on the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXII. The Incredible Body
- </h2>
- <p>
- I bent in great anxiety over the body of the reporter and had the joy to
- find that he was deeply sleeping, the same unhealthy sleep that I had seen
- fall upon Frederic Larsan. He had succumbed to the influence of the same
- drug that had been mixed with our food. How was it then, that I, also, had
- not been overcome by it? I reflected that the drug must have been put into
- our wine; because that would explain my condition. I never drink when
- eating. Naturally inclined to obesity, I am restricted to a dry diet. I
- shook Rouletabille, but could not succeed in waking him. This, no doubt,
- was the work of Mademoiselle Stangerson.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had certainly thought it necessary to guard herself against this young
- man as well as her father. I recalled that the steward, in serving us, had
- recommended an excellent Chablis which, no doubt, had come from the
- professor’s table.
- </p>
- <p>
- More than a quarter of an hour passed. I resolved, under the pressing
- circumstances, to resort to extreme measures. I threw a pitcher of cold
- water over Rouletabille’s head. He opened his eyes. I beat his face, and
- raised him up. I felt him stiffen in my arms and heard him murmur: “Go on,
- go on; but don’t make any noise.” I pinched him and shook him until he was
- able to stand up. We were saved!
- </p>
- <p>
- “They sent me to sleep,” he said. “Ah! I passed an awful quarter of an
- hour before giving way. But it is over now. Don’t leave me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had no sooner uttered those words than we were thrilled by a frightful
- cry that rang through the chateau,—a veritable death cry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Malheur!” roared Rouletabille; “we shall be too late!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He tried to rush to the door, but he was too dazed, and fell against the
- wall. I was already in the gallery, revolver in hand, rushing like a
- madman towards Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room. The moment I arrived at the
- intersection of the “off-turning” gallery and the “right” gallery, I saw a
- figure leaving her apartment, which, in a few strides had reached the
- landing-place.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was not master of myself. I fired. The report from the revolver made a
- deafening noise; but the man continued his flight down the stairs. I ran
- behind him, shouting: “Stop!—stop! or I will kill you!” As I rushed
- after him down the stairs, I came face to face with Arthur Rance coming
- from the left wing of the chateau, yelling: “What is it? What is it?” We
- arrived almost at the same time at the foot of the staircase. The window
- of the vestibule was open. We distinctly saw the form of a man running
- away. Instinctively we fired our revolvers in his direction. He was not
- more than ten paces in front of us; he staggered and we thought he was
- going to fall. We had sprung out of the window, but the man dashed off
- with renewed vigour. I was in my socks, and the American was barefooted.
- There being no hope of overtaking him, we fired our last cartridges at
- him. But he still kept on running, going along the right side of the court
- towards the end of the right wing of the chateau, which had no other
- outlet than the door of the little chamber occupied by the forest-keeper.
- The man, though he was evidently wounded by our bullets, was now twenty
- yards ahead of us. Suddenly, behind us, and above our heads, a window in
- the gallery opened and we heard the voice of Rouletabille crying out
- desperately:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fire, Bernier!—Fire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment the clear moonlight night was further lit by a broad flash.
- By its light we saw Daddy Bernier with his gun on the threshold of the
- donjon door.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had taken good aim. The shadow fell. But as it had reached the end of
- the right wing of the chateau, it fell on the other side of the angle of
- the building; that is to say, we saw it about to fall, but not the actual
- sinking to the ground. Bernier, Arthur Rance and myself reached the other
- side twenty seconds later. The shadow was lying dead at our feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aroused from his lethargy by the cries and reports, Larsan opened the
- window of his chamber and called out to us. Rouletabille, quite awake now,
- joined us at the same moment, and I cried out to him:
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is dead!—is dead!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So much the better,” he said. “Take him into the vestibule of the
- chateau.” Then as if on second thought, he said: “No!—no! Let us put
- him in his own room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille knocked at the door. Nobody answered. Naturally, this did not
- surprise me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is evidently not there, otherwise he would have come out,” said the
- reporter. “Let us carry him to the vestibule then.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Since reaching the dead shadow, a thick cloud had covered the moon and
- darkened the night, so that we were unable to make out the features. Daddy
- Jacques, who had now joined us, helped us to carry the body into the
- vestibule, where we laid it down on the lower step of the stairs. On the
- way, I had felt my hands wet from the warm blood flowing from the wounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Jacques flew to the kitchen and returned with a lantern. He held it
- close to the face of the dead shadow, and we recognised the keeper, the
- man called by the landlord of the Donjon Inn the Green Man, whom, an hour
- earlier, I had seen come out of Arthur Rance’s chamber carrying a parcel.
- But what I had seen I could only tell Rouletabille later, when we were
- alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille and Frederic Larsan experienced a cruel disappointment at the
- result of the night’s adventure. They could only look in consternation and
- stupefaction at the body of the Green Man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daddy Jacques showed a stupidly sorrowful face and with silly lamentations
- kept repeating that we were mistaken—the keeper could not be the
- assailant. We were obliged to compel him to be quiet. He could not have
- shown greater grief had the body been that of his own son. I noticed,
- while all the rest of us were more or less undressed and barefooted, that
- he was fully clothed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille had not left the body. Kneeling on the flagstones by the
- light of Daddy Jacques’s lantern he removed the clothes from the body and
- laid bare its breast. Then snatching the lantern from Daddy Jacques, he
- held it over the corpse and saw a gaping wound. Rising suddenly he
- exclaimed in a voice filled with savage irony:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The man you believe to have been shot was killed by the stab of a knife
- in his heart!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought Rouletabille had gone mad; but, bending over the body, I quickly
- satisfied myself that Rouletabille was right. Not a sign of a bullet
- anywhere—the wound, evidently made by a sharp blade, had penetrated
- the heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIII. The Double Scent
- </h2>
- <p>
- I had hardly recovered from the surprise into which this new discovery had
- plunged me, when Rouletabille touched me on the shoulder and asked me to
- follow him into his room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are we going to do there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To think the matter over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I confess I was in no condition for doing much thinking, nor could I
- understand how Rouletabille could so control himself as to be able calmly
- to sit down for reflection when he must have known that Mademoiselle
- Stangerson was at that moment almost on the point of death. But his
- self-control was more than I could explain. Closing the door of his room,
- he motioned me to a chair and, seating himself before me, took out his
- pipe. We sat there for some time in silence and then I fell asleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I awoke it was daylight. It was eight o’clock by my watch.
- Rouletabille was no longer in the room. I rose to go out when the door
- opened and my friend re-entered. He had evidently lost no time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How about Mademoiselle Stangerson?” I asked him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her condition, though very alarming, is not desperate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When did you leave this room?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Towards dawn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess you have been hard at work?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rather!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you found out anything?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Two sets of footprints!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do they explain anything?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have they anything to do with the mystery of the keeper’s body?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; the mystery is no longer a mystery. This morning, walking round the
- chateau, I found two distinct sets of footprints, made at the same time,
- last night. They were made by two persons walking side by side. I followed
- them from the court towards the oak grove. Larsan joined me. They were the
- same kind of footprints as were made at the time of the assault in The
- Yellow Room—one set was from clumsy boots and the other was made by
- neat ones, except that the big toe of one of the sets was of a different
- size from the one measured in “The Yellow Room” incident. I compared the
- marks with the paper patterns I had previously made.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Still following the tracks of the prints, Larsan and I passed out of the
- oak grove and reached the border of the lake. There they turned off to a
- little path leading to the high road to Epinay where we lost the traces in
- the newly macadamised highway.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We went back to the chateau and parted at the courtyard. We met again,
- however, in Daddy Jacques’s room to which our separate trains of thinking
- had led us both. We found the old servant in bed. His clothes on the chair
- were wet through and his boots very muddy. He certainly did not get into
- that state in helping us to carry the body of the keeper. It was not
- raining then. Then his face showed extreme fatigue and he looked at us out
- of terror-stricken eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On our first questioning him he told us that he had gone to bed
- immediately after the doctor had arrived. On pressing him, however, for it
- was evident to us he was not speaking the truth, he confessed that he had
- been away from the chateau. He explained his absence by saying that he had
- a headache and went out into the fresh air, but had gone no further than
- the oak grove. When we then described to him the whole route he had
- followed, he sat up in bed trembling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘And you were not alone!’ cried Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Did you see it then?’ gasped Daddy Jacques.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘What?’ I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘The phantom—the black phantom!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he told us that for several nights he had seen what he kept calling
- the black phantom. It came into the park at the stroke of midnight and
- glided stealthily through the trees; it appeared to him to pass through
- the trunks of the trees. Twice he had seen it from his window, by the
- light of the moon and had risen and followed the strange apparition. The
- night before last he had almost overtaken it; but it had vanished at the
- corner of the donjon. Last night, however, he had not left the chateau,
- his mind being disturbed by a presentiment that some new crime would be
- attempted. Suddenly he saw the black phantom rush out from somewhere in
- the middle of the court. He followed it to the lake and to the high road
- to Epinay, where the phantom suddenly disappeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Did you see his face?’ demanded Larsan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘No!—I saw nothing but black veils.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Did you go out after what passed on the gallery?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I could not!—I was terrified.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Daddy Jacques,’ I said, in a threatening voice, ‘you did not follow it;
- you and the phantom walked to Epinay together—arm in arm!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘No!’ he cried, turning his eyes away, ‘I did not. It came on to pour,
- and—I turned back. I don’t know what became of the black phantom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We left him, and when we were outside I turned to Larsan, looking him
- full in the face, and put my question suddenly to take him off his guard:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘An accomplice?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘How can I tell?’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders. ‘You can’t be sure
- of anything in a case like this. Twenty-four hours ago I would have sworn
- that there was no accomplice!’ He left me saying he was off to Epinay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what do you make of it?” I asked Rouletabille, after he had ended
- his recital. “Personally I am utterly in the dark. I can’t make anything
- out of it. What do you gather?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything! Everything!” he exclaimed. “But,” he said abruptly, “let’s
- find out more about Mademoiselle Stangerson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIV. Rouletabille Knows the Two Halves of the Murderer
- </h2>
- <p>
- Mademoiselle Stangerson had been almost murdered for the second time.
- Unfortunately, she was in too weak a state to bear the severer injuries of
- this second attack as well as she had those of the first. She had received
- three wounds in the breast from the murderer’s knife, and she lay long
- between life and death. Her strong physique, however, saved her; but
- though she recovered physically it was found that her mind had been
- affected. The slightest allusion to the terrible incident sent her into
- delirium, and the arrest of Robert Darzac which followed on the day
- following the tragic death of the keeper seemed to sink her fine
- intelligence into complete melancholia.
- </p>
- <p>
- Robert Darzac arrived at the chateau towards half-past nine. I saw him
- hurrying through the park, his hair and clothes in disorder and his face a
- deadly white. Rouletabille and I were looking out of a window in the
- gallery. He saw us, and gave a despairing cry: “I’m too late!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille answered: “She lives!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A minute later Darzac had gone into Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room and,
- through the door, we could hear his heart-rending sobs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s a fate about this place!” groaned Rouletabille. “Some infernal
- gods must be watching over the misfortunes of this family!—If I had
- not been drugged, I should have saved Mademoiselle Stangerson. I should
- have silenced him forever. And the keeper would not have been killed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac came in to speak with us. His distress was terrible.
- Rouletabille told him everything: his preparations for Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s safety; his plans for either capturing or for disposing of
- the assailant for ever; and how he would have succeeded had it not been
- for the drugging.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If only you had trusted me!” said the young man, in a low tone. “If you
- had but begged Mademoiselle Stangerson to confide in me!—But, then,
- everybody here distrusts everybody else, the daughter distrusts her
- father, and even her lover. While you ask me to protect her she is doing
- all she can to frustrate me. That was why I came on the scene too late!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At Monsieur Robert Darzac’s request Rouletabille described the whole
- scene. Leaning on the wall, to prevent himself from falling, he had made
- his way to Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room, while we were running after the
- supposed murderer. The ante-room door was open and when he entered he
- found Mademoiselle Stangerson lying partly thrown over the desk. Her
- dressing-gown was dyed with the blood flowing from her bosom. Still under
- the influence of the drug, he felt he was walking in a horrible nightmare.
- </p>
- <p>
- He went back to the gallery automatically, opened a window, shouted his
- order to fire, and then returned to the room. He crossed the deserted
- boudoir, entered the drawing-room, and tried to rouse Monsieur Stangerson
- who was lying on a sofa. Monsieur Stangerson rose stupidly and let himself
- be drawn by Rouletabille into the room where, on seeing his daughter’s
- body, he uttered a heart-rending cry. Both united their feeble strength
- and carried her to her bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- On his way to join us Rouletabille passed by the desk. On the floor, near
- it, he saw a large packet. He knelt down and, finding the wrapper loose,
- he examined it, and made out an enormous quantity of papers and
- photographs. On one of the papers he read: “New differential electroscopic
- condenser. Fundamental properties of substance intermediary between
- ponderable matter and imponderable ether.” Strange irony of fate that the
- professor’s precious papers should be restored to him at the very time
- when an attempt was being made to deprive him of his daughter’s life! What
- are papers worth to him now?
- </p>
- <p>
- The morning following that awful night saw Monsieur de Marquet once more
- at the chateau, with his Registrar and gendarmes. Of course we were all
- questioned. Rouletabille and I had already agreed on what to say. I kept
- back any information as to my being in the dark closet and said nothing
- about the drugging. We did not wish to suggest in any way that
- Mademoiselle Stangerson had been expecting her nocturnal visitor. The poor
- woman might, perhaps, never recover, and it was none of our business to
- lift the veil of a secret the preservation of which she had paid for so
- dearly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur Rance told everybody, in a manner so natural that it astonished me,
- that he had last seen the keeper towards eleven o’clock of that fatal
- night. He had come for his valise, he said, which he was to take for him
- early next morning to the Saint-Michel station, and had been kept out late
- running after poachers. Arthur Rance had, indeed, intended to leave the
- chateau and, according to his habit, to walk to the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Stangerson confirmed what Rance had said, adding that he had not
- asked Rance to dine with him because his friend had taken his final leave
- of them both earlier in the evening. Monsieur Rance had had tea served him
- in his room, because he had complained of a slight indisposition.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bernier testified, instructed by Rouletabille, that the keeper had ordered
- him to meet at a spot near the oak grove, for the purpose of looking out
- for poachers. Finding that the keeper did not keep his appointment, he,
- Bernier, had gone in search of him. He had almost arrived at the donjon,
- when he saw a figure running swiftly in a direction opposite to him,
- towards the right wing of the chateau. He heard revolver shots from behind
- the figure and saw Rouletabille at one of the gallery windows. He heard
- Rouletabille call out to him to fire, and he had fired. He believed he had
- killed the man until he learned, after Rouletabille had uncovered the
- body, that the man had died from a knife thrust. Who had given it he could
- not imagine. “Nobody could have been near the spot without my seeing him.”
- When the examining magistrate reminded him that the spot where the body
- was found was very dark and that he himself had not been able to recognise
- the keeper before firing, Daddy Bernier replied that neither had they seen
- the other body; nor had they found it. In the narrow court where five
- people were standing it would have been strange if the other body, had it
- been there, could have escaped. The only door that opened into the court
- was that of the keeper’s room, and that door was closed, and the key of it
- was found in the keeper’s pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- However that might be, the examining magistrate did not pursue his inquiry
- further in this direction. He was evidently convinced that we had missed
- the man we were chasing and we had come upon the keeper’s body in our
- chase. This matter of the keeper was another matter entirely. He wanted to
- satisfy himself about that without any further delay. Probably it fitted
- in with the conclusions he had already arrived at as to the keeper and his
- intrigues with the wife of Mathieu, the landlord of the Donjon Inn. This
- Mathieu, later in the afternoon, was arrested and taken to Corbeil in
- spite of his rheumatism. He had been heard to threaten the keeper, and
- though no evidence against him had been found at his inn, the evidence of
- carters who had heard the threats was enough to justify his retention.
- </p>
- <p>
- The examination had proceeded thus far when, to our surprise, Frederic
- Larsan returned to the chateau. He was accompanied by one of the employeees
- of the railway. At that moment Rance and I were in the vestibule
- discussing Mathieu’s guilt or innocence, while Rouletabille stood apart
- buried, apparently, in thought. The examining magistrate and his Registrar
- were in the little green drawing-room, while Darzac was with the doctor
- and Stangerson in the lady’s chamber. As Frederic Larsan entered the
- vestibule with the railway employee, Rouletabille and I at once recognised
- him by the small blond beard. We exchanged meaningful glances. Larsan had
- himself announced to the examining magistrate by the gendarme and entered
- with the railway servant as Daddy Jacques came out. Some ten minutes went
- by during which Rouletabille appeared extremely impatient. The door of the
- drawing-room was then opened and we heard the magistrate calling to the
- gendarme who entered. Presently he came out, mounted the stairs and,
- coming back shortly, went in to the magistrate and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur,—Monsieur Robert Darzac will not come!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! Not come!” cried Monsieur de Marquet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He says he cannot leave Mademoiselle Stangerson in her present state.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said Monsieur de Marquet; “then we’ll go to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur de Marquet and the gendarme mounted the stairs. He made a sign to
- Larsan and the railroad employee to follow. Rouletabille and I went along
- too.
- </p>
- <p>
- On reaching the door of Mademoiselle Stangerson’s chamber, Monsieur de
- Marquet knocked. A chambermaid appeared. It was Sylvia, with her hair all
- in disorder and consternation showing on her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Monsieur Stangerson within?” asked the magistrate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him that I wish to speak with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Stangerson came out. His appearance was wretched in the extreme.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you want?” he demanded of the magistrate. “May I not be left in
- peace, Monsieur?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur,” said the magistrate, “it is absolutely necessary that I should
- see Monsieur Darzac at once. If you cannot induce him to come, I shall be
- compelled to use the help of the law.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The professor made no reply. He looked at us all like a man being led to
- execution, and then went back into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Almost immediately after Monsieur Robert Darzac came out. He was very
- pale. He looked at us and, his eyes falling on the railway servant, his
- features stiffened and he could hardly repress a groan.
- </p>
- <p>
- We were all much moved by the appearance of the man. We felt that what was
- about to happen would decide the fate of Monsieur Robert Darzac. Frederic
- Larsan’s face alone was radiant, showing a joy as of a dog that had at
- last got its prey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pointing to the railway servant, Monsieur de Marquet said to Monsieur
- Darzac:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you recognise this man, Monsieur?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do,” said Monsieur Darzac, in a tone which he vainly tried to make
- firm. “He is an employee at the station at Epinay-sur-Orge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This young man,” went on Monsieur de Marquet, “affirms that he saw you
- get off the train at Epinay-sur-Orge—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That night,” said Monsieur Darzac, interrupting, “at half-past ten—it
- is quite true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- An interval of silence followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Darzac,” the magistrate went on in a tone of deep emotion,
- “Monsieur Darzac, what were you doing that night, at Epinay-sur-Orge—at
- that time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac remained silent, simply closing his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Darzac,” insisted Monsieur de Marquet, “can you tell me how you
- employeed your time, that night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac opened his eyes. He seemed to have recovered his
- self-control.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Monsieur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Think, Monsieur! For, if you persist in your strange refusal, I shall be
- under the painful necessity of keeping you at my disposition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I refuse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Darzac!—in the name of the law, I arrest you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The magistrate had no sooner pronounced the words than I saw Rouletabille
- move quickly towards Monsieur Darzac. He would certainly have spoken to
- him, but Darzac, by a gesture, held him off. As the gendarme approached
- his prisoner, a despairing cry rang through the room:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Robert!—Robert!”
- </p>
- <p>
- We recognised the voice of Mademoiselle Stangerson. We all shuddered.
- Larsan himself turned pale. Monsieur Darzac, in response to the cry, had
- flown back into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The magistrate, the gendarme, and Larsan followed closely after.
- Rouletabille and I remained on the threshold. It was a heart-breaking
- sight that met our eyes. Mademoiselle Stangerson, with a face of deathly
- pallor, had risen on her bed, in spite of the restraining efforts of two
- doctors and her father. She was holding out her trembling arms towards
- Robert Darzac, on whom Larsan and the gendarme had laid hands. Her
- distended eyes saw—she understood—her lips seemed to form a
- word, but nobody made it out; and she fell back insensible.
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac was hurried out of the room and placed in the vestibule to
- wait for the vehicle Larsan had gone to fetch. We were all overcome by
- emotion and even Monsieur de Marquet had tears in his eyes. Rouletabille
- took advantage of the opportunity to say to Monsieur Darzac:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you going to put in any defense?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” replied the prisoner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, then I will, Monsieur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You cannot do it,” said the unhappy man with a faint smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can—and I will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille’s voice had in it a strange strength and confidence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can do it, Monsieur Robert Darzac, because I know more than you do!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come! Come!” murmured Darzac, almost angrily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have no fear! I shall know only what will benefit you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must know nothing, young man, if you want me to be grateful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille shook his head, going close up to Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to what I am about to say,” he said in a low tone, “and let it
- give you confidence. You do not know the name of the murderer.
- Mademoiselle Stangerson knows it; but only half of it; but I know his two
- halves; I know the whole man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Robert Darzac opened his eyes, with a look that showed he had not
- understood a word of what Rouletabille had said to him. At that moment the
- conveyance arrived, driven by Frederic Larsan. Darzac and the gendarme
- entered it, Larsan remaining on the driver’s seat. The prisoner was taken
- to Corbeil.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXV. Rouletabille Goes on a Journey
- </h2>
- <p>
- That same evening Rouletabille and I left the Glandier. We were very glad
- to get away and there was nothing more to keep us there. I declared my
- intention to give up the whole matter. It had been too much for me.
- Rouletabille, with a friendly tap on my shoulder, confessed that he had
- nothing more to learn at the Glandier; he had learned there all it had to
- tell him. We reached Paris about eight o’clock, dined, and then, tired
- out, we separated, agreeing to meet the next morning at my rooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille arrived next day at the hour agreed on. He was dressed in a
- suit of English tweed, with an ulster on his arm, and a valise in his
- hand. Evidently he had prepared himself for a journey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How long shall you be away?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A month or two,” he said. “It all depends.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I asked him no more questions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know,” he asked, “what the word was that Mademoiselle Stangerson
- tried to say before she fainted?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—nobody heard it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I heard it!” replied Rouletabille. “She said ‘Speak!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think Darzac will speak?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was about to make some further observations, but he wrung my hand warmly
- and wished me good-bye. I had only time to ask him one question before he
- left.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you not afraid that other attempts may be made while you’re away?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! Not now that Darzac is in prison,” he answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- With this strange remark he left. I was not to see him again until the day
- of Darzac’s trial at the court when he appeared to explain the
- inexplicable.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVI. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Is Awaited with Impatience
- </h2>
- <p>
- On the 15th of January, that is to say, two months and a half after the
- tragic events I have narrated, the “Epoque” printed, as the first column
- of the front page, the following sensational article: “The Seine-et-Oise
- jury is summoned to-day to give its verdict on one of the most mysterious
- affairs in the annals of crime. There never has been a case with so many
- obscure, incomprehensible, and inexplicable points. And yet the
- prosecution has not hesitated to put into the prisoner’s dock a man who is
- respected, esteemed, and loved by all who knew him—a young savant,
- the hope of French science, whose whole life has been devoted to knowledge
- and truth. When Paris heard of Monsieur Robert Darzac’s arrest a unanimous
- cry of protest arose from all sides. The whole Sorbonne, disgraced by this
- act of the examining magistrate, asserted its belief in the innocence of
- Mademoiselle Stangerson’s fiance. Monsieur Stangerson was loud in his
- denunciation of this miscarriage of justice. There is no doubt in the mind
- of anybody that could the victim speak she would claim from the jurors of
- Seine-et-Oise the man she wishes to make her husband and whom the
- prosecution would send to the scaffold. It is to be hoped that
- Mademoiselle Stangerson will shortly recover her reason, which has been
- temporarily unhinged by the horrible mystery at the Glandier. The question
- before the jury is the one we propose to deal with this very day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We have decided not to permit twelve worthy men to commit a disgraceful
- miscarriage of justice. We confess that the remarkable coincidences, the
- many convicting evidences, and the inexplicable silence on the part of the
- accused, as well as a total absence of any evidence for an alibi, were
- enough to warrant the bench of judges in assuming that in this man alone
- was centered the truth of the affair. The evidences are, in appearance, so
- overwhelming against Monsieur Robert Darzac that a detective so well
- informed, so intelligent, and generally so successful, as Monsieur
- Frederic Larsan, may be excused for having been misled by them. Up to now
- everything has gone against Monsieur Robert Darzac in the magisterial
- inquiry. To-day, however, we are going to defend him before the jury, and
- we are going to bring to the witness stand a light that will illumine the
- whole mystery of the Glandier. For we possess the truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we have not spoken sooner, it is because the interests of certain
- parties in the case demand that we should take that course. Our readers
- may remember the unsigned reports we published relating to the ‘Left foot
- of the Rue Oberkampf,’ at the time of the famous robbery of the Credit
- Universel, and the famous case of the ‘Gold Ingots of the Mint.’ In both
- those cases we were able to discover the truth long before even the
- excellent ingenuity of Frederic Larsan had been able to unravel it. These
- reports were written by our youngest reporter, Joseph Rouletabille, a
- youth of eighteen, whose fame to-morrow will be world-wide. When attention
- was first drawn to the Glandier case, our youthful reporter was on the
- spot and installed in the chateau, when every other representative of the
- press had been denied admission. He worked side by side with Frederic
- Larsan. He was amazed and terrified at the grave mistake the celebrated
- detective was about to make, and tried to divert him from the false scent
- he was following; but the great Fred refused to receive instructions from
- this young journalist. We know now where it brought Monsieur Robert
- Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But now, France must know—the whole world must know, that, on the
- very evening on which Monsieur Darzac was arrested, young Rouletabille
- entered our editorial office and informed us that he was about to go away
- on a journey. ‘How long I shall be away,’ he said, ‘I cannot say; perhaps
- a month—perhaps two—perhaps three—perhaps I may never return.
- Here is a letter. If I am not back on the day on which Monsieur Darzac is
- to appear before the Assize Court, have this letter opened and read to the
- court, after all the witnesses have been heard. Arrange it with Monsieur
- Darzac’s counsel. Monsieur Darzac is innocent. In this letter is written
- the name of the murderer; and—that is all I have to say. I am
- leaving to get my proofs—for the irrefutable evidence of the
- murderer’s guilt.’ Our reporter departed. For a long time we were without
- news from him; but, a week ago, a stranger called upon our manager and
- said: ‘Act in accordance with the instructions of Joseph Rouletabille, if
- it becomes necessary to do so. The letter left by him holds the truth.’
- The gentleman who brought us this message would not give us his name.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To-day, the 15th of January, is the day of the trial. Joseph Rouletabille
- has not returned. It may be we shall never see him again. The press also
- counts its heroes, its martyrs to duty. It may be he is no longer living.
- We shall know how to avenge him. Our manager will, this afternoon, be at
- the Court of Assize at Versailles, with the letter—the letter
- containing the name of the murderer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Those Parisians who flocked to the Assize Court at Versailles, to be
- present at the trial of what was known as the “Mystery of The Yellow
- Room,” will certainly remember the terrible crush at the Saint-Lazare
- station. The ordinary trains were so full that special trains had to be
- made up. The article in the “Epoque” had so excited the populace that
- discussion was rife everywhere even to the verge of blows. Partisans of
- Rouletabille fought with the supporters of Frederic Larsan. Curiously
- enough the excitement was due less to the fact that an innocent man was in
- danger of a wrongful conviction than to the interest taken in their own
- ideas as to the Mystery of “The Yellow Room”. Each had his explanation to
- which each held fast. Those who explained the crime on Frederic Larsan’s
- theory would not admit that there could be any doubt as to the
- perspicacity of the popular detective. Others who had arrived at a
- different solution, naturally insisted that this was Rouletabille’s
- explanation, though they did not as yet know what that was.
- </p>
- <p>
- With the day’s “Epoque” in their hands, the “Larsans” and the
- “Rouletabilles” fought and shoved each other on the steps of the Palais de
- Justice, right into the court itself. Those who could not get in remained
- in the neighbourhood until evening and were, with great difficulty, kept
- back by the soldiery and the police. They became hungry for news,
- welcoming the most absurd rumours. At one time the rumour spread that
- Monsieur Stangerson himself had been arrested in the court and had
- confessed to being the murderer. This goes to show to what a pitch of
- madness nervous excitement may carry people. Rouletabille was still
- expected. Some pretended to know him; and when a young man with a “pass”
- crossed the open space which separated the crowd from the Court House, a
- scuffle took place. Cries were raised of “Rouletabille!—there’s
- Rouletabille!” The arrival of the manager of the paper was the signal for
- a great demonstration. Some applauded, others hissed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The trial itself was presided over by Monsieur de Rocouz, a judge filled
- with the prejudice of his class, but a man honest at heart. The witnesses
- had been called. I was there, of course, as were all who had, in any way,
- been in touch with the mysteries of the Glandier. Monsieur Stangerson—looking
- many years older and almost unrecognisable—Larsan, Arthur Rance,
- with his face ruddy as ever, Daddy Jacques, Daddy Mathieu, who was brought
- into court handcuffed between two gendarmes, Madame Mathieu, in tears, the
- two Berniers, the two nurses, the steward, all the domestics of the
- chateau, the employee of the Paris Post Office, the railway employee from
- Epinay, some friends of Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson, and all
- Monsieur Darzac’s witnesses. I was lucky enough to be called early in the
- trial, so that I was then able to watch and be present at almost the whole
- of the proceedings.
- </p>
- <p>
- The court was so crowded that many lawyers were compelled to find seats on
- the steps. Behind the bench of justices were representatives from other
- benches. Monsieur Robert Darzac stood in the prisoner’s dock between
- policemen, tall, handsome, and calm. A murmur of admiration rather than of
- compassion greeted his appearance. He leaned forward towards his counsel,
- Maitre Henri Robert, who, assisted by his chief secretary, Maitre Andre
- Hesse, was busily turning over the folios of his brief.
- </p>
- <p>
- Many expected that Monsieur Stangerson, after giving his evidence, would
- have gone over to the prisoner and shaken hands with him; but he left the
- court without another word. It was remarked that the jurors appeared to be
- deeply interested in a rapid conversation which the manager of the
- “Epoque” was having with Maitre Henri Robert. The manager, later, sat down
- in the front row of the public seats. Some were surprised that he was not
- asked to remain with the other witnesses in the room reserved for them.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reading of the indictment was got through, as it always is, without
- any incident. I shall not here report the long examination to which
- Monsieur Darzac was subjected. He answered all the questions quickly and
- easily. His silence as to the important matters of which we know was dead
- against him. It would seem as if this reticence would be fatal for him. He
- resented the President’s reprimands. He was told that his silence might
- mean death.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” he said; “I will submit to it; but I am innocent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With that splendid ability which has made his fame, Maitre Robert took
- advantage of the incident, and tried to show that it brought out in noble
- relief his client’s character; for only heroic natures could remain silent
- for moral reasons in face of such a danger. The eminent advocate however,
- only succeeded in assuring those who were already assured of Darzac’s
- innocence. At the adjournment Rouletabille had not yet arrived. Every time
- a door opened, all eyes there turned towards it and back to the manager of
- the “Epoque,” who sat impassive in his place. When he once was feeling in
- his pocket a loud murmur of expectation followed. The letter!
- </p>
- <p>
- It is not, however, my intention to report in detail the course of the
- trial. My readers are sufficiently acquainted with the mysteries
- surrounding the Glandier case to enable me to go on to the really dramatic
- denouement of this ever-memorable day.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the trial was resumed, Maitre Henri Robert questioned Daddy Mathieu
- as to his complicity in the death of the keeper. His wife was also brought
- in and was confronted by her husband. She burst into tears and confessed
- that she had been the keeper’s mistress, and that her husband had
- suspected it. She again, however, affirmed that he had had nothing to do
- with the murder of her lover. Maitre Henri Robert thereupon asked the
- court to hear Frederic Larsan on this point.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In a short conversation which I have had with Frederic Larsan, during the
- adjournment,” declared the advocate, “he has made me understand that the
- death of the keeper may have been brought about otherwise than by the hand
- of Mathieu. It will be interesting to hear Frederic Larsan’s theory.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederic Larsan was brought in. His explanation was quite clear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see no necessity,” he said, “for bringing Mathieu in this. I have told
- Monsieur de Marquet that the man’s threats had biassed the examining
- magistrate against him. To me the attempt to murder Mademoiselle and the
- death of the keeper are the work of one and the same person. Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s murderer, flying through the court, was fired on; it was
- thought he was struck, perhaps killed. As a matter of fact, he only
- stumbled at the moment of his disappearance behind the corner of the right
- wing of the chateau. There he encountered the keeper who, no doubt, tried
- to seize him. The murderer had in his hand the knife with which he had
- stabbed Mademoiselle Stangerson and with this he killed the keeper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This very simple explanation appeared at once plausible and satisfying. A
- murmur of approbation was heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the murderer? What became of him?” asked the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was evidently hidden in an obscure corner at the end of the court.
- After the people had left the court carrying with them the body of the
- keeper, the murderer quietly made his escape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The words had scarcely left Larsan’s mouth when from the back of the court
- came a youthful voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I agree with Frederic Larsan as to the death of the keeper; but I do not
- agree with him as to the way the murderer escaped!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Everybody turned round, astonished. The clerks of the court sprang towards
- the speaker, calling out silence, and the President angrily ordered the
- intruder to be immediately expelled. The same clear voice, however, was
- again heard:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is I, Monsieur President—Joseph Rouletabille!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVII. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Appears in All His Glory
- </h2>
- <p>
- The excitement was extreme. Cries from fainting women were to be heard
- amid the extraordinary bustle and stir. The “majesty of the law” was
- utterly forgotten. The President tried in vain to make himself heard.
- Rouletabille made his way forward with difficulty, but by dint of much
- elbowing reached his manager and greeted him cordially. The letter was
- passed to him and pocketing it he turned to the witness-box. He was
- dressed exactly as on the day he left me even to the ulster over his arm.
- Turning to the President, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, Monsieur President, but I have only just arrived from
- America. The steamer was late. My name is Joseph Rouletabille!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The silence which followed his stepping into the witness-box was broken by
- laughter when his words were heard. Everybody seemed relieved and glad to
- find him there, as if in the expectation of hearing the truth at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the President was extremely incensed:
- </p>
- <p>
- “So, you are Joseph Rouletabille,” he replied; “well, young man, I’ll
- teach you what comes of making a farce of justice. By virtue of my
- discretionary power, I hold you at the court’s disposition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ask nothing better, Monsieur President. I have come here for that
- purpose. I humbly beg the court’s pardon for the disturbance of which I
- have been the innocent cause. I beg you to believe that nobody has a
- greater respect for the court than I have. I came in as I could.” He
- smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take him away!” ordered the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- Maitre Henri Robert intervened. He began by apologising for the young man,
- who, he said, was moved only by the best intentions. He made the President
- understand that the evidence of a witness who had slept at the Glandier
- during the whole of that eventful week could not be omitted, and the
- present witness, moreover, had come to name the real murderer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you going to tell us who the murderer was?” asked the President,
- somewhat convinced though still sceptical.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come for that purpose, Monsieur President!” replied Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- An attempt at applause was silenced by the usher.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Joseph Rouletabille,” said Maitre Henri Robert, “has not been regularly
- subpoenaed as a witness, but I hope, Monsieur President, you will examine
- him in virtue of your discretionary powers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well!” said the President, “we will question him. But we must
- proceed in order.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Advocate-General rose:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would, perhaps, be better,” he said, “if the young man were to tell us
- now whom he suspects.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The President nodded ironically:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the Advocate-General attaches importance to the deposition of Monsieur
- Joseph Rouletabille, I see no reason why this witness should not give us
- the name of the murderer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A pin drop could have been heard. Rouletabille stood silent looking
- sympathetically at Darzac, who, for the first time since the opening of
- the trial, showed himself agitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” cried the President, “we wait for the name of the murderer.”
- Rouletabille, feeling in his waistcoat pocket, drew his watch and, looking
- at it, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur President, I cannot name the murderer before half-past six
- o’clock!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Loud murmurs of disappointment filled the room. Some of the lawyers were
- heard to say: “He’s making fun of us!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The President in a stern voice, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “This joke has gone far enough. You may retire, Monsieur, into the
- witnesses’ room. I hold you at our disposition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille protested.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I assure you, Monsieur President,” he cried in his sharp, clear voice,
- “that when I do name the murderer you will understand why I could not
- speak before half-past six. I assert this on my honour. I can, however,
- give you now some explanation of the murder of the keeper. Monsieur
- Frederic Larsan, who has seen me at work at the Glandier, can tell you
- with what care I studied this case. I found myself compelled to differ
- with him in arresting Monsieur Robert Darzac, who is innocent. Monsieur
- Larsan knows of my good faith and knows that some importance may be
- attached to my discoveries, which have often corroborated his own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederic Larsan said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur President, it will be interesting to hear Monsieur Joseph
- Rouletabille, especially as he differs from me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A murmur of approbation greeted the detective’s speech. He was a good
- sportsman and accepted the challenge. The struggle between the two
- promised to be exciting.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the President remained silent, Frederic Larsan continued:
- </p>
- <p>
- “We agree that the murderer of the keeper was the assailant of
- Mademoiselle Stangerson; but as we are not agreed as to how the murderer
- escaped, I am curious to hear Monsieur Rouletabille’s explanation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no doubt you are,” said my friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- General laughter followed this remark. The President angrily declared that
- if it was repeated, he would have the court cleared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, young man,” said the President, “you have heard Monsieur Frederic
- Larsan; how did the murderer get away from the court?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille looked at Madame Mathieu, who smiled back at him sadly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Since Madame Mathieu,” he said, “has freely admitted her intimacy with
- the keeper—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, it’s the boy!” exclaimed Daddy Mathieu.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Remove that man!” ordered the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mathieu was removed from the court. Rouletabille went on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Since she has made this confession, I am free to tell you that she often
- met the keeper at night on the first floor of the donjon, in the room
- which was once an oratory. These meetings became more frequent when her
- husband was laid up by his rheumatism. She gave him morphine to ease his
- pain and to give herself more time for the meetings. Madame Mathieu came
- to the chateau that night, enveloped in a large black shawl which served
- also as a disguise. This was the phantom that disturbed Daddy Jacques. She
- knew how to imitate the mewing of Mother Angenoux’ cat and she would make
- the cries to advise the keeper of her presence. The recent repairs of the
- donjon did not interfere with their meetings in the keeper’s old room, in
- the donjon, since the new room assigned to him at the end of the right
- wing was separated from the steward’s room by a partition only.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Previous to the tragedy in the courtyard Madame Mathieu and the keeper
- left the donjon together. I learnt these facts from my examination of the
- footmarks in the court the next morning. Bernier, the concierge, whom I
- had stationed behind the donjon—as he will explain himself—could
- not see what passed in the court. He did not reach the court until he
- heard the revolver shots, and then he fired. When the woman parted from
- the man she went towards the open gate of the court, while he returned to
- his room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He had almost reached the door when the revolvers rang out. He had just
- reached the corner when a shadow bounded by. Meanwhile, Madame Mathieu,
- surprised by the revolver shots and by the entrance of people into the
- court, crouched in the darkness. The court is a large one and, being near
- the gate, she might easily have passed out unseen. But she remained and
- saw the body being carried away. In great agony of mind she neared the
- vestibule and saw the dead body of her lover on the stairs lit up by Daddy
- Jacques’ lantern. She then fled; and Daddy Jacques joined her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That same night, before the murder, Daddy Jacques had been awakened by
- the cat’s cry, and, looking through his window, had seen the black
- phantom. Hastily dressing himself he went out and recognised her. He is an
- old friend of Madame Mathieu, and when she saw him she had to tell him of
- her relations with the keeper and begged his assistance. Daddy Jacques
- took pity on her and accompanied her through the oak grove out of the
- park, past the border of the lake to the road to Epinay. From there it was
- but a very short distance to her home.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daddy Jacques returned to the chateau, and, seeing how important it was
- for Madame Mathieu’s presence at the chateau to remain unknown, he did all
- he could to hide it. I appeal to Monsieur Larsan, who saw me, next
- morning, examine the two sets of footprints.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here Rouletabille turning towards Madame Mathieu, with a bow, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The footprints of Madame bear a strange resemblance to the neat
- footprints of the murderer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Madame Mathieu trembled and looked at him with wide eyes as if in wonder
- at what he would say next.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madame has a shapely foot, long and rather large for a woman. The
- imprint, with its pointed toe, is very like that of the murderer’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A movement in the court was repressed by Rouletabille. He held their
- attention at once.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hasten to add,” he went on, “that I attach no importance to this.
- Outward signs like these are often liable to lead us into error, if we do
- not reason rightly. Monsieur Robert Darzac’s footprints are also like the
- murderer’s, and yet he is not the murderer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The President turning to Madame Mathieu asked:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that in accordance with what you know occurred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur President,” she replied, “it is as if Monsieur Rouletabille
- had been behind us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you see the murderer running towards the end of the right wing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, as clearly as I saw them afterwards carrying the keeper’s body.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What became of the murderer?—You were in the courtyard and could
- easily have seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I saw nothing of him, Monsieur President. It became quite dark just
- then.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then Monsieur Rouletabille,” said the President, “must explain how the
- murderer made his escape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille continued:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was impossible for the murderer to escape by the way he had entered
- the court without our seeing him; or if we couldn’t see him we must
- certainly have felt him, since the court is a very narrow one enclosed in
- high iron railings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then if the man was hemmed in that narrow square, how is it you did not
- find him?—I have been asking you that for the last half hour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur President,” replied Rouletabille, “I cannot answer that question
- before half-past six!”
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time the people in the court-room were beginning to believe in
- this new witness. They were amused by his melodramatic action in thus
- fixing the hour; but they seemed to have confidence in the outcome. As for
- the President, it looked as if he also had made up his mind to take the
- young man in the same way. He had certainly been impressed by
- Rouletabille’s explanation of Madame Mathieu’s part.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Monsieur Rouletabille,” he said, “as you say; but don’t let us see
- any more of you before half-past six.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille bowed to the President, and made his way to the door of the
- witnesses’ room.
- </p>
- <p>
- I quietly made my way through the crowd and left the court almost at the
- same time as Rouletabille. He greeted me heartily, and looked happy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll not ask you, my dear fellow,” I said, smiling, “what you’ve been
- doing in America; because I’ve no doubt you’ll say you can’t tell me until
- after half-past six.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, my dear Sainclair, I’ll tell you right now why I went to America. I
- went in search of the name of the other half of the murderer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The name of the other half?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly. When we last left the Glandier I knew there were two halves to
- the murderer and the name of only one of them. I went to America for the
- name of the other half.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was too puzzled to answer. Just then we entered the witnesses’ room, and
- Rouletabille was immediately surrounded. He showed himself very friendly
- to all except Arthur Rance to whom he exhibited a marked coldness of
- manner. Frederic Larsan came in also. Rouletabille went up and shook him
- heartily by the hand. His manner toward the detective showed that he had
- got the better of the policeman. Larsan smiled and asked him what he had
- been doing in America, Rouletabille began by telling him some anecdotes of
- his voyage. They then turned aside together apparently with the object of
- speaking confidentially. I, therefore, discreetly left them and, being
- curious to hear the evidence, returned to my seat in the court-room where
- the public plainly showed its lack of interest in what was going on in
- their impatience for Rouletabille’s return at the appointed time.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the stroke of half-past six Joseph Rouletabille was again brought in.
- It is impossible for me to picture the tense excitement which appeared on
- every face, as he made his way to the bar. Darzac rose to his feet,
- frightfully pale.
- </p>
- <p>
- The President, addressing Rouletabille, said gravely:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not ask you to take the oath, because you have not been regularly
- summoned; but I trust there is no need to urge upon you the gravity of the
- statement you are about to make.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille looked the President quite calmly and steadily in the face,
- and replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At your last appearance here,” said the President, “we had arrived at the
- point where you were to tell us how the murderer escaped, and also his
- name. Now, Monsieur Rouletabille, we await your explanation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, Monsieur,” began my friend amidst a profound silence. “I had
- explained how it was impossible for the murderer to get away without being
- seen. And yet he was there with us in the courtyard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you did not see him? At least that is what the prosecution declares.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! We all of us saw him, Monsieur le President!” cried Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then why was he not arrested?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because no one, besides myself, knew that he was the murderer. It would
- have spoiled my plans to have had him arrested, and I had then no proof
- other than my own reasoning. I was convinced we had the murderer before us
- and that we were actually looking at him. I have now brought what I
- consider the indisputable proof.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak out, Monsieur! Tell us the murderer’s name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will find it on the list of names present in the court on the night
- of the tragedy,” replied Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- The people present in the court-room began showing impatience. Some of
- them even called for the name, and were silenced by the usher.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The list includes Daddy Jacques, Bernier the concierge, and Mr. Arthur
- Rance,” said the President. “Do you accuse any of these?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Monsieur!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I do not understand what you are driving at. There was no other
- person at the end of the court.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur, there was, not at the end, but above the court, who was
- leaning out of the window.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean Frederic Larsan!” exclaimed the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes! Frederic Larsan!” replied Rouletabille in a ringing tone. “Frederic
- Larsan is the murderer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The court-room became immediately filled with loud and indignant protests.
- So astonished was he that the President did not attempt to quiet it. The
- quick silence which followed was broken by the distinctly whispered words
- from the lips of Robert Darzac:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s impossible! He’s mad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You dare to accuse Frederic Larsan, Monsieur?” asked the President. “If
- you are not mad, what are your proofs?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Proofs, Monsieur?—Do you want proofs? Well, here is one,” cried
- Rouletabille shrilly. “Let Frederic Larsan be called!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Usher, call Frederic Larsan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The usher hurried to the side door, opened it, and disappeared. The door
- remained open, while all eyes turned expectantly towards it. The clerk
- re-appeared and, stepping forward, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur President, Frederic Larsan is not here. He left at about four
- o’clock and has not been seen since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is my proof!” cried Rouletabille, triumphantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Explain yourself?” demanded the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My proof is Larsan’s flight,” said the young reporter. “He will not come
- back. You will see no more of Frederic Larsan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Unless you are playing with the court, Monsieur, why did you not accuse
- him when he was present? He would then have answered you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He could give no other answer than the one he has now given by his
- flight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We cannot believe that Larsan has fled. There was no reason for his doing
- so. Did he know you’d make this charge?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He did. I told him I would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean to say that knowing Larsan was the murderer you gave him the
- opportunity to escape?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur President, I did,” replied Rouletabille, proudly. “I am not
- a policeman, I am a journalist; and my business is not to arrest people.
- My business is in the service of truth, and is not that of an executioner.
- If you are just, Monsieur, you will see that I am right. You can now
- understand why I refrained until this hour to divulge the name. I gave
- Larsan time to catch the 4:17 train for Paris, where he would know where
- to hide himself, and leave no traces. You will not find Frederic Larsan,”
- declared Rouletabille, fixing his eyes on Monsieur Robert Darzac. “He is
- too cunning. He is a man who has always escaped you and whom you have long
- searched for in vain. If he did not succeed in outwitting me, he can yet
- easily outwit any police. This man who, four years ago, introduced himself
- to the Surete, and became celebrated as Frederic Larsan, is notorious
- under another name—a name well known to crime. Frederic Larsan,
- Monsieur President, is Ballmeyer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ballmeyer!” cried the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ballmeyer!” exclaimed Robert Darzac, springing to his feet. “Ballmeyer!—It
- was true, then!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Monsieur Darzac; you don’t think I am mad, now!” cried Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ballmeyer! Ballmeyer! No other word could be heard in the courtroom. The
- President adjourned the hearing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Those of my readers who may not have heard of Ballmeyer will wonder at the
- excitement the name caused. And yet the doings of this remarkable criminal
- form the subject-matter of the most dramatic narratives of the newspapers
- and criminal records of the past twenty years. It had been reported that
- he was dead, and thus had eluded the police as he had eluded them
- throughout the whole of his career.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ballmeyer was the best specimen of the high-class “gentleman swindler.” He
- was adept at sleight of hand tricks, and no bolder or more ruthless crook
- ever lived. He was received in the best society, and was a member of some
- of the most exclusive clubs. On many of his depredatory expeditions he had
- not hesitated to use the knife and the mutton-bone. No difficulty stopped
- him and no “operation” was too dangerous. He had been caught, but escaped
- on the very morning of his trial, by throwing pepper into the eyes of the
- guards who were conducting him to Court. It was known later that, in spite
- of the keen hunt after him by the most expert of detectives, he had sat
- that same evening at a first performance in the Theatre Francais, without
- the slightest disguise.
- </p>
- <p>
- He left France, later, to “work” America. The police there succeeded in
- capturing him once, but the extraordinary man escaped the next day. It
- would need a volume to recount the adventures of this master-criminal. And
- yet this was the man Rouletabille had allowed to get away! Knowing all
- about him and who he was, he afforded the criminal an opportunity for
- another laugh at the society he had defied! I could not help admiring the
- bold stroke of the young journalist, because I felt certain his motive had
- been to protect both Mademoiselle Stangerson and rid Darzac of an enemy at
- the same time.
- </p>
- <p>
- The crowd had barely recovered from the effect of the astonishing
- revelation when the hearing was resumed. The question in everybody’s mind
- was: Admitting that Larsan was the murderer, how did he get out of The
- Yellow Room?
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille was immediately called to the bar and his examination
- continued.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have told us,” said the President, “that it was impossible to escape
- from the end of the court. Since Larsan was leaning out of his window, he
- had left the court. How did he do that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He escaped by a most unusual way. He climbed the wall, sprang onto the
- terrace, and, while we were engaged with the keeper’s body, reached the
- gallery by the window. He then had little else to do than to open the
- window, get in and call out to us, as if he had just come from his own
- room. To a man of Ballmeyer’s strength all that was mere child’s play. And
- here, Monsieur, is the proof of what I say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille drew from his pocket a small packet, from which he produced a
- strong iron peg.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This, Monsieur,” he said, “is a spike which perfectly fits a hole still
- to be seen in the cornice supporting the terrace. Larsan, who thought and
- prepared for everything in case of any emergency, had fixed this spike
- into the cornice. All he had to do to make his escape good was to plant
- one foot on a stone which is placed at the corner of the chateau, another
- on this support, one hand on the cornice of the keeper’s door and the
- other on the terrace, and Larsan was clear of the ground. The rest was
- easy. His acting after dinner as if he had been drugged was make believe.
- He was not drugged; but he did drug me. Of course he had to make it appear
- as if he also had been drugged so that no suspicion should fall on him for
- my condition. Had I not been thus overpowered, Larsan would never have
- entered Mademoiselle Stangerson’s chamber that night, and the attack on
- her would not have taken place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A groan came from Darzac, who appeared to be unable to control his
- suffering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can understand,” added Rouletabille, “that Larsan would feel himself
- hampered from the fact that my room was so close to his, and from a
- suspicion that I would be on the watch that night. Naturally, he could not
- for a moment believe that I suspected him! But I might see him leaving his
- room when he was about to go to Mademoiselle Stangerson. He waited till I
- was asleep, and my friend Sainclair was busy trying to rouse me. Ten
- minutes after that Mademoiselle was calling out, “Murder!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did you come to suspect Larsan?” asked the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My pure reason pointed to him. That was why I watched him. But I did not
- foresee the drugging. He is very cunning. Yes, my pure reason pointed to
- him; but I required tangible proof so that my eyes could see him as my
- pure reason saw him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean by your pure reason?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That power of one’s mind which admits of no disturbing elements to a
- conclusion. The day following the incident of ‘the inexplicable gallery,’
- I felt myself losing control of it. I had allowed myself to be diverted by
- fallacious evidence; but I recovered and again took hold of the right end.
- I satisfied myself that the murderer could not have left the gallery,
- either naturally or supernaturally. I narrowed the field of consideration
- to that small circle, so to speak. The murderer could not be outside that
- circle. Now who was in it? There was, first, the murderer. Then there were
- Daddy Jacques, Monsieur Stangerson, Frederic Larsan, and myself. Five
- persons in all, counting in the murderer. And yet, in the gallery, there
- were but four. Now since it had been demonstrated to me that the fifth
- could not have escaped, it was evident that one of the four present in the
- gallery must be a double—he must be himself and the murderer also.
- Why had I not seen this before? Simply because the phenomenon of the
- double personality had not occurred before in this inquiry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now who of the four persons in the gallery was both that person and the
- assassin? I went over in my mind what I had seen. I had seen at one and
- the same time, Monsieur Stangerson and the murderer, Daddy Jacques and the
- murderer, myself and the murderer; so that the murderer, then, could not
- be either Monsieur Stangerson, Daddy Jacques, or myself. Had I seen
- Frederic Larsan and the murderer at the same time?—No!—Two
- seconds had passed, during which I lost sight of the murderer; for, as I
- have noted in my papers, he arrived two seconds before Monsieur
- Stangerson, Daddy Jacques, and myself at the meeting-point of the two
- galleries. That would have given Larsan time to go through the
- ‘off-turning’ gallery, snatch off his false beard, return, and hurry with
- us as if, like us, in pursuit of the murderer. I was sure now I had got
- hold of the right end in my reasoning. With Frederic Larsan was now always
- associated, in my mind, the personality of the unknown of whom I was in
- pursuit—the murderer, in other words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That revelation staggered me. I tried to regain my balance by going over
- the evidences previously traced, but which had diverted my mind and led me
- away from Frederic Larsan. What were these evidences?
- </p>
- <p>
- “1st. I had seen the unknown in Mademoiselle Stangerson’s chamber. On
- going to Frederic Larsan’s room, I had found Larsan sound asleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- “2nd. The ladder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “3rd. I had placed Frederic Larsan at the end of the ‘off-turning’ gallery
- and had told him that I would rush into Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room to
- try to capture the murderer. Then I returned to Mademoiselle Stangerson’s
- chamber where I had seen the unknown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The first evidence did not disturb me much. It is likely that, when I
- descended from my ladder, after having seen the unknown in Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s chamber, Larsan had already finished what he was doing there.
- Then, while I was re-entering the chateau, Larsan went back to his own
- room and, undressing himself, went to sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor did the second evidence trouble me. If Larsan were the murderer, he
- could have no use for a ladder; but the ladder might have been placed
- there to give an appearance to the murderer’s entrance from without the
- chateau; especially as Larsan had accused Darzac and Darzac was not in the
- chateau that night. Further, the ladder might have been placed there to
- facilitate Larsan’s flight in case of absolute necessity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the third evidence puzzled me altogether. Having placed Larsan at the
- end of the ‘off-turning gallery,’ I could not explain how he had taken
- advantage of the moment when I had gone to the left wing of the chateau to
- find Monsieur Stangerson and Daddy Jacques, to return to Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s room. It was a very dangerous thing to do. He risked being
- captured,—and he knew it. And he was very nearly captured. He had
- not had time to regain his post, as he had certainly hoped to do. He had
- then a very strong reason for returning to his room. As for myself, when I
- sent Daddy Jacques to the end of the ‘right gallery,’ I naturally thought
- that Larsan was still at his post. Daddy Jacques, in going to his post,
- had not looked, when he passed, to see whether Larsan was at his post or
- not.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, then, was the urgent reason which had compelled Larsan to go to the
- room a second time? I guessed it to be some evidence of his presence
- there. He had left something very important in that room. What was it? And
- had he recovered it? I begged Madame Bernier who was accustomed to clean
- the room to look, and she found a pair of eye-glasses—this pair,
- Monsieur President!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Rouletabille drew the eye-glasses, of which we know, from his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I saw these eye-glasses,” he continued, “I was utterly nonplussed. I
- had never seen Larsan wear eye-glasses. What did they mean? Suddenly I
- exclaimed to myself: ‘I wonder if he is long-sighted?’ I had never seen
- Larsan write. He might, then, be long-sighted. They would certainly know
- at the Surete, and also know if the glasses were his. Such evidence would
- be damning. That explained Larsan’s return. I know now that Larsan, or
- Ballmeyer, is long-sighted and that these glasses belonged to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I now made one mistake. I was not satisfied with the evidence I had
- obtained. I wished to see the man’s face. Had I refrained from this, the
- second terrible attack would not have occurred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” asked the President, “why should Larsan go to Mademoiselle
- Stangerson’s room, at all? Why should he twice attempt to murder her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because he loves her, Monsieur President.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is certainly a reason, but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the only reason. He was madly in love, and because of that, and—other
- things, he was capable of committing any crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did Mademoiselle Stangerson know this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Monsieur; but she was ignorant of the fact that the man who was
- pursuing her was Frederic Larsan, otherwise, of course, he would not have
- been allowed to be at the chateau. I noticed, when he was in her room
- after the incident in the gallery, that he kept himself in the shadow, and
- that he kept his head bent down. He was looking for the lost eye-glasses.
- Mademoiselle Stangerson knew Larsan under another name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Darzac,” asked the President, “did Mademoiselle Stangerson in
- any way confide in you on this matter? How is it that she has never spoken
- about it to anyone? If you are innocent, she would have wished to spare
- you the pain of being accused.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson told me nothing,” replied Monsieur Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does what this young man says appear probable to you?” the President
- asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson has told me nothing,” he replied stolidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you explain that, on the night of the murder of the keeper,” the
- President asked, turning to Rouletabille, “the murderer brought back the
- papers stolen from Monsieur Stangerson?—How do you explain how the
- murderer gained entrance into Mademoiselle Stangerson’s locked room?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last question is easily answered. A man like Larsan, or Ballmeyer,
- could have had made duplicate keys. As to the documents, I think Larsan
- had not intended to steal them, at first. Closely watching Mademoiselle
- with the purpose of preventing her marriage with Monsieur Robert Darzac,
- he one day followed her and Monsieur into the Grands Magasins de la
- Louvre. There he got possession of the reticule which she lost, or left
- behind. In that reticule was a key with a brass head. He did not know
- there was any value attached to the key till the advertisement in the
- newspapers revealed it. He then wrote to Mademoiselle, as the
- advertisement requested. No doubt he asked for a meeting, making known to
- her that he was also the person who had for some time pursued her with his
- love. He received no answer. He went to the Post Office and ascertained
- that his letter was no longer there. He had already taken complete stock
- of Monsieur Darzac, and, having decided to go to any lengths to gain
- Mademoiselle Stangerson, he had planned that, whatever might happen,
- Monsieur Darzac, his hated rival, should be the man to be suspected.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not think that Larsan had as yet thought of murdering Mademoiselle
- Stangerson; but whatever he might do, he made sure that Monsieur Darzac
- should suffer for it. He was very nearly of the same height as Monsieur
- Darzac and had almost the same sized feet. It would not be difficult, to
- take an impression of Monsieur Darzac’s footprints, and have similar boots
- made for himself. Such tricks were mere child’s play for Larsan, or
- Ballmeyer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Receiving no reply to his letter, he determined, since Mademoiselle
- Stangerson would not come to him, that he would go to her. His plan had
- long been formed. He had made himself master of the plans of the chateau
- and the pavilion. So that, one afternoon, while Monsieur and Mademoiselle
- Stangerson were out for a walk, and while Daddy Jacques was away, he
- entered the latter by the vestibule window. He was alone, and, being in no
- hurry, he began examining the furniture. One of the pieces, resembling a
- safe, had a very small keyhole. That interested him! He had with him the
- little key with the brass head, and, associating one with the other, he
- tried the key in the lock. The door opened. He saw nothing but papers.
- They must be very valuable to have been put away in a safe, and the key to
- which to be of so much importance. Perhaps a thought of blackmail occurred
- to him as a useful possibility in helping him in his designs on
- Mademoiselle Stangerson. He quickly made a parcel of the papers and took
- it to the lavatory in the vestibule. Between the time of his first
- examination of the pavilion and the night of the murder of the keeper,
- Larsan had had time to find out what those papers contained. He could do
- nothing with them, and they were rather compromising. That night he took
- them back to the chateau. Perhaps he hoped that, by returning the papers
- he might obtain some gratitude from Mademoiselle Stangerson. But whatever
- may have been his reasons, he took the papers back and so rid himself of
- an encumbrance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille coughed. It was evident to me that he was embarrassed. He had
- arrived at a point where he had to keep back his knowledge of Larsan’s
- true motive. The explanation he had given had evidently been
- unsatisfactory. Rouletabille was quick enough to note the bad impression
- he had made, for, turning to the President, he said: “And now we come to
- the explanation of the Mystery of “The Yellow Room”!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A movement of chairs in the court with a rustling of dresses and an
- energetic whispering of “Hush!” showed the curiosity that had been
- aroused.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It seems to me,” said the President, “that the Mystery of The Yellow
- Room, Monsieur Rouletabille, is wholly explained by your hypothesis.
- Frederic Larsan is the explanation. We have merely to substitute him for
- Monsieur Robert Darzac. Evidently the door of “The Yellow Room” was open at
- the time Monsieur Stangerson was alone, and that he allowed the man who
- was coming out of his daughter’s chamber to pass without arresting him—perhaps
- at her entreaty to avoid all scandal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Monsieur President,” protested the young man. “You forget that,
- stunned by the attack made on her, Mademoiselle Stangerson was not in a
- condition to have made such an appeal. Nor could she have locked and
- bolted herself in her room. You must also remember that Monsieur
- Stangerson has sworn that the door was not open.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That, however, is the only way in which it can be explained. The Yellow
- Room was as closely shut as an iron safe. To use your own expression, it
- was impossible for the murderer to make his escape either naturally or
- supernaturally. When the room was broken into he was not there! He must,
- therefore, have escaped.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That does not follow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was no need for him to escape—if he was not there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently, not. He could not have been there, if he were not found
- there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, what about the evidences of his presence?” asked the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That, Monsieur President, is where we have taken hold of the wrong end.
- From the time Mademoiselle Stangerson shut herself in the room to the time
- her door was burst open, it was impossible for the murderer to escape. He
- was not found because he was not there during that time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the evidences?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They have led us astray. In reasoning on this mystery we must not take
- them to mean what they apparently mean. Why do we conclude the murderer
- was there?—Because he left his tracks in the room? Good! But may he
- not have been there before the room was locked. Nay, he must have been
- there before! Let us look into the matter of these traces and see if they
- do not point to my conclusion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “After the publication of the article in the ‘Matin’ and my conversation
- with the examining magistrate on the journey from Paris to Epinaysur-Orge,
- I was certain that “The Yellow Room” had been hermetically sealed, so to
- speak, and that consequently the murderer had escaped before Mademoiselle
- Stangerson had gone into her chamber at midnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At the time I was much puzzled. Mademoiselle Stangerson could not have
- been her own murderer, since the evidences pointed to some other person.
- The assassin, then, had come before. If that were so, how was it that
- Mademoiselle had been attacked after? or rather, that she appeared to have
- been attacked after? It was necessary for me to reconstruct the occurrence
- and make of it two phases—each separated from the other, in time, by
- the space of several hours. One phase in which Mademoiselle Stangerson had
- really been attacked—the other phase in which those who heard her
- cries thought she was being attacked. I had not then examined The Yellow
- Room. What were the marks on Mademoiselle Stangerson? There were marks of
- strangulation and the wound from a hard blow on the temple. The marks of
- strangulation did not interest me much; they might have been made before,
- and Mademoiselle Stangerson could have concealed them by a collarette, or
- any similar article of apparel. I had to suppose this the moment I was
- compelled to reconstruct the occurrence by two phases. Mademoiselle
- Stangerson had, no doubt, her own reasons for so doing, since she had told
- her father nothing of it, and had made it understood to the examining
- magistrate that the attack had taken place in the night, during the second
- phase. She was forced to say that, otherwise her father would have
- questioned her as to her reason for having said nothing about it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I could not explain the blow on the temple. I understood it even less
- when I learned that the mutton-bone had been found in her room. She could
- not hide the fact that she had been struck on the head, and yet that wound
- appeared evidently to have been inflicted during the first phase, since it
- required the presence of the murderer! I thought Mademoiselle Stangerson
- had hidden the wound by arranging her hair in bands on her forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to the mark of the hand on the wall, that had evidently been made
- during the first phase—when the murderer was really there. All the
- traces of his presence had naturally been left during the first phase; the
- mutton-bone, the black footprints, the Basque cap, the handkerchief, the
- blood on the wall, on the door, and on the floor. If those traces were
- still all there, they showed that Mademoiselle Stangerson—who
- desired that nothing should be known—had not yet had time to clear
- them away. This led me to the conclusion that the two phases had taken
- place one shortly after the other. She had not had the opportunity, after
- leaving her room and going back to the laboratory to her father, to get
- back again to her room and put it in order. Her father was all the time
- with her, working. So that after the first phase she did not re-enter her
- chamber till midnight. Daddy Jacques was there at ten o’clock, as he was
- every night; but he went in merely to close the blinds and light the
- night-light. Owing to her disturbed state of mind she had forgotten that
- Daddy Jacques would go into her room and had begged him not to trouble
- himself. All this was set forth in the article in the ‘Matin.’ Daddy
- Jacques did go, however, and, in the dim light of the room, saw nothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mademoiselle Stangerson must have lived some anxious moments while Daddy
- Jacques was absent; but I think she was not aware that so many evidences
- had been left. After she had been attacked she had only time to hide the
- traces of the man’s fingers on her neck and to hurry to the laboratory.
- Had she known of the bone, the cap, and the handkerchief, she would have
- made away with them after she had gone back to her chamber at midnight.
- She did not see them, and undressed by the uncertain glimmer of the night
- light. She went to bed, worn-out by anxiety and fear—a fear that had
- made her remain in the laboratory as late as possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My reasoning had thus brought me to the second phase of the tragedy, when
- Mademoiselle Stangerson was alone in the room. I had now to explain the
- revolver shots fired during the second phase. Cries of ‘Help!—Murder!’
- had been heard. How to explain these? As to the cries, I was in no
- difficulty; since she was alone in her room these could result from
- nightmare only. My explanation of the struggle and noise that were heard
- is simply that in her nightmare she was haunted by the terrible experience
- she had passed through in the afternoon. In her dream she sees the
- murderer about to spring upon her and she cries, ‘Help! Murder!’ Her hand
- wildly seeks the revolver she had placed within her reach on the
- night-table by the side of her bed, but her hand, striking the table,
- overturns it, and the revolver, falling to the floor, discharges itself,
- the bullet lodging in the ceiling. I knew from the first that the bullet
- in the ceiling must have resulted from an accident. Its very position
- suggested an accident to my mind, and so fell in with my theory of a
- nightmare. I no longer doubted that the attack had taken place before
- Mademoiselle had retired for the night. After wakening from her frightful
- dream and crying aloud for help, she had fainted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My theory, based on the evidence of the shots that were heard at
- midnight, demanded two shots—one which wounded the murderer at the
- time of his attack, and one fired at the time of the nightmare. The
- evidence given by the Berniers before the examining magistrate was to the
- effect that only one shot had been heard. Monsieur Stangerson testified to
- hearing a dull sound first followed by a sharp ringing sound. The dull
- sound I explained by the falling of the marble-topped table; the ringing
- sound was the shot from the revolver. I was now convinced I was right. The
- shot that had wounded the hand of the murderer and had caused it to bleed
- so that he left the bloody imprint on the wall was fired by Mademoiselle
- in self-defence, before the second phase, when she had been really
- attacked. The shot in the ceiling which the Berniers heard was the
- accidental shot during the nightmare.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had now to explain the wound on the temple. It was not severe enough to
- have been made by means of the mutton-bone, and Mademoiselle had not
- attempted to hide it. It must have been made during the second phase. It
- was to find this out that I went to “The Yellow Room”, and I obtained my
- answer there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille drew a piece of white folded paper from his pocket, and drew
- out of it an almost invisible object which he held between his thumb and
- forefinger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This, Monsieur President,” he said, “is a hair—a blond hair stained
- with blood;—it is a hair from the head of Mademoiselle Stangerson. I
- found it sticking to one of the corners of the overturned table. The
- corner of the table was itself stained with blood—a tiny stain—hardly
- visible; but it told me that, on rising from her bed, Mademoiselle
- Stangerson had fallen heavily and had struck her head on the corner of its
- marble top.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I still had to learn, in addition to the name of the assassin, which I
- did later, the time of the original attack. I learned this from the
- examination of Mademoiselle Stangerson and her father, though the answers
- given by the former were well calculated to deceive the examining
- magistrate—Mademoiselle Stangerson had stated very minutely how she
- had spent the whole of her time that day. We established the fact that the
- murderer had introduced himself into the pavilion between five and six
- o’clock. At a quarter past six the professor and his daughter had resumed
- their work. At five the professor had been with his daughter, and since
- the attack took place in the professor’s absence from his daughter, I had
- to find out just when he left her. The professor had stated that at the
- time when he and his daughter were about to re-enter the laboratory he was
- met by the keeper and held in conversation about the cutting of some wood
- and the poachers. Mademoiselle Stangerson was not with him then since the
- professor said: ‘I left the keeper and rejoined my daughter who was at
- work in the laboratory.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was during that short interval of time that the tragedy took place.
- That is certain. In my mind’s eye I saw Mademoiselle Stangerson re-enter
- the pavilion, go to her room to take off her hat, and find herself faced
- by the murderer. He had been in the pavilion for some time waiting for
- her. He had arranged to pass the whole night there. He had taken off Daddy
- Jacques’s boots; he had removed the papers from the cabinet; and had then
- slipped under the bed. Finding the time long, he had risen, gone again
- into the laboratory, then into the vestibule, looked into the garden, and
- had seen, coming towards the pavilion, Mademoiselle Stangerson—alone.
- He would never have dared to attack her at that hour, if he had not found
- her alone. His mind was made up. He would be more at ease alone with
- Mademoiselle Stangerson in the pavilion, than he would have been in the
- middle of the night, with Daddy Jacques sleeping in the attic. So he shut
- the vestibule window. That explains why neither Monsieur Stangerson, nor
- the keeper, who were at some distance from the pavilion, had heard the
- revolver shot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he went back to “The Yellow Room”. Mademoiselle Stangerson came in.
- What passed must have taken place very quickly. Mademoiselle tried to call
- for help; but the man had seized her by the throat. Her hand had sought
- and grasped the revolver which she had been keeping in the drawer of her
- night-table, since she had come to fear the threats of her pursuer. The
- murderer was about to strike her on the head with the mutton-bone—a
- terrible weapon in the hands of a Larsan or Ballmeyer; but she fired in
- time, and the shot wounded the hand that held the weapon. The bone fell to
- the floor covered with the blood of the murderer, who staggered, clutched
- at the wall for support—imprinting on it the red marks—and,
- fearing another bullet, fled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She saw him pass through the laboratory, and listened. He was long at the
- window. At length he jumped from it. She flew to it and shut it. The
- danger past, all her thoughts were of her father. Had he either seen or
- heard? At any cost to herself she must keep this from him. Thus when
- Monsieur Stangerson returned, he found the door of “The Yellow Room” closed,
- and his daughter in the laboratory, bending over her desk, at work!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Turning towards Monsieur Darzac, Rouletabille cried: “You know the truth!
- Tell us, then, if that is not how things happened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know anything about it,” replied Monsieur Darzac.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I admire you for your silence,” said Rouletabille, “but if Mademoiselle
- Stangerson knew of your danger, she would release you from your oath. She
- would beg of you to tell all she has confided to you. She would be here to
- defend you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Monsieur Darzac made no movement, nor uttered a word. He looked at
- Rouletabille sadly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “However,” said the young reporter, “since Mademoiselle is not here, I
- must do it myself. But, believe me, Monsieur Darzac, the only means to
- save Mademoiselle Stangerson and restore her to her reason, is to secure
- your acquittal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is this secret motive that compels Mademoiselle Stangerson to hide
- her knowledge from her father?” asked the President.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That, Monsieur, I do not know,” said Rouletabille. “It is no business of
- mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The President, turning to Monsieur Darzac, endeavoured to induce him to
- tell what he knew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you still refuse, Monsieur, to tell us how you employeed your time
- during the attempts on the life of Mademoiselle Stangerson?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot tell you anything, Monsieur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The President turned to Rouletabille as if appealing for an explanation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must assume, Monsieur President, that Monsieur Robert Darzac’s
- absences are closely connected with Mademoiselle Stangerson’s secret, and
- that Monsieur Darzac feels himself in honour bound to remain silent. It
- may be that Larsan, who, since his three attempts, has had everything in
- training to cast suspicion on Monsieur Darzac, had fixed on just those
- occasions for a meeting with Monsieur Darzac at a spot most compromising.
- Larsan is cunning enough to have done that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The President seemed partly convinced, but still curious, he asked:
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what is this secret of Mademoiselle Stangerson?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That I cannot tell you,” said Rouletabille. “I think, however, you know
- enough now to acquit Monsieur Robert Darzac! Unless Larsan should return,
- and I don’t think he will,” he added, with a laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One question more,” said the President. “Admitting your explanation, we
- know that Larsan wished to turn suspicion on Monsieur Robert Darzac, but
- why should he throw suspicion on Daddy Jacques also?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There came in the professional detective, Monsieur, who proves himself an
- unraveller of mysteries, by annihilating the very proofs he had
- accumulated. He’s a very cunning man, and a similar trick had often
- enabled him to turn suspicion from himself. He proved the innocence of one
- before accusing the other. You can easily believe, Monsieur, that so
- complicated a scheme as this must have been long and carefully thought out
- in advance by Larsan. I can tell you that he had long been engaged on its
- elaboration. If you care to learn how he had gathered information, you
- will find that he had, on one occasion, disguised himself as the
- commissionaire between the ‘Laboratory of the Surete’ and Monsieur
- Stangerson, of whom ‘experiments’ were demanded. In this way he had been
- able before the crime, on two occasions to take stock of the pavilion. He
- had ‘made up’ so that Daddy Jacques had not recognised him. And yet Larsan
- had found the opportunity to rob the old man of a pair of old boots and a
- cast-off Basque cap, which the servant had tied up in a handkerchief, with
- the intention of carrying them to a friend, a charcoal-burner on the road
- to Epinay. When the crime was discovered, Daddy Jacques had immediately
- recognised these objects as his. They were extremely compromising, which
- explains his distress at the time when we spoke to him about them. Larsan
- confessed it all to me. He is an artist at the game. He did a similar
- thing in the affair of the ‘Credit Universel,’ and in that of the ‘Gold
- Ingots of the Mint.’ Both these cases should be revised. Since Ballmeyer
- or Larsan has been in the Surete a number of innocent persons have been
- sent to prison.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVIII. In Which It Is Proved That One Does Not Always Think of
- Everything
- </h2>
- <p>
- Great excitement prevailed when Rouletabille had finished. The court-room
- became agitated with the murmurings of suppressed applause. Maitre Henri
- Robert called for an adjournment of the trial and was supported in his
- motion by the public prosecutor himself. The case was adjourned. The next
- day Monsieur Robert Darzac was released on bail, while Daddy Jacques
- received the immediate benefit of a “no cause for action.” Search was
- everywhere made for Frederic Larsan, but in vain. Monsieur Darzac finally
- escaped the awful calamity which, at one time, had threatened him. After a
- visit to Mademoiselle Stangerson, he was led to hope that she might, by
- careful nursing, one day recover her reason.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rouletabille, naturally, became the “man of the hour.” On leaving the
- Palais de Justice, the crowd bore him aloft in triumph. The press of the
- whole world published his exploits and his photograph. He, who had
- interviewed so many illustrious personages, had himself become illustrious
- and was interviewed in his turn. I am glad to say that the enormous
- success in no way turned his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- We left Versailles together, after having dined at “The Dog That Smokes.”
- In the train I put a number of questions to him which, during our meal,
- had been on the tip of my tongue, but which I had refrained from uttering,
- knowing he did not like to talk “shop” while eating.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My friend,” I said, “that Larsan case is wonderful. It is worthy of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He begged me to say no more, and humorously pretended an anxiety for me
- should I give way to silly praise of him because of a personal admiration
- for his ability.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll come to the point, then,” I said, not a little nettled. “I am still
- in the dark as to your reason for going to America. When you left the
- Glandier you had found out, if I rightly understand, all about Frederic
- Larsan; you had discovered the exact way he had attempted the murder?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite so. And you,” he said, turning the conversation, “did you suspect
- nothing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s incredible!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t see how I could have suspected anything. You took great pains to
- conceal your thoughts from me. Had you already suspected Larsan when you
- sent for me to bring the revolvers?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes! I had come to that conclusion through the incident of the
- ‘inexplicable gallery.’ Larsan’s return to Mademoiselle Stangerson’s room,
- however, had not then been cleared up by the eye-glasses. My suspicions
- were the outcome of my reasoning only; and the idea of Larsan being the
- murderer seemed so extraordinary that I resolved to wait for actual
- evidence before venturing to act. Nevertheless, the suspicion worried me,
- and I sometimes spoke to the detective in a way that ought to have opened
- your eyes. I spoke disparagingly of his methods. But until I found the
- eye-glasses I could but look upon my suspicion of him in the light of an
- absurd hypothesis only. You can imagine my elation after I had explained
- Larsan’s movements. I remember well rushing into my room like a mad-man
- and crying to you: ‘I’ll get the better of the great Fred. I’ll get the
- better of him in a way that will make a sensation!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was then thinking of Larsan, the murderer. It was that same evening
- that Darzac begged me to watch over Mademoiselle Stangerson. I made no
- efforts until after we had dined with Larsan, until ten o’clock. He was
- right there before me, and I could afford to wait. You ought to have
- suspected, because when we were talking of the murderer’s arrival, I said
- to you: ‘I am quite sure Larsan will be here to-night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “But one important point escaped us both. It was one which ought to have
- opened our eyes to Larsan. Do you remember the bamboo cane? I was
- surprised to find Larsan had made no use of that evidence against Robert
- Darzac. Had it not been purchased by a man whose description tallied
- exactly with that of Darzac? Well, just before I saw him off at the train,
- after the recess during the trial, I asked him why he hadn’t used the cane
- evidence. He told me he had never had any intention of doing so; that our
- discovery of it in the little inn at Epinay had much embarrassed him. If
- you will remember, he told us then that the cane had been given him in
- London. Why did we not immediately say to ourselves: ‘Fred is lying. He
- could not have had this cane in London. He was not in London. He bought it
- in Paris’? Then you found out, on inquiry at Cassette’s, that the cane had
- been bought by a person dressed very like Robert Darzac, though, as we
- learned later, from Darzac himself, it was not he who had made the
- purchase. Couple this with the fact we already knew, from the letter at
- the poste restante, that there was actually a man in Paris who was passing
- as Robert Darzac, why did we not immediately fix on Fred himself?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, his position at the Surete was against us; but when we saw the
- evident eagerness on his part to find convicting evidence against Darzac,
- nay, even the passion he displayed in his pursuit of the man, the lie
- about the cane should have had a new meaning for us. If you ask why Larsan
- bought the cane, if he had no intention of manufacturing evidence against
- Darzac by means of it, the answer is quite simple. He had been wounded in
- the hand by Mademoiselle Stangerson, so that the cane was useful to enable
- him to close his hand in carrying it. You remember I noticed that he
- always carried it?
- </p>
- <p>
- “All these details came back to my mind when I had once fixed on Larsan as
- the criminal. But they were too late then to be of any use to me. On the
- evening when he pretended to be drugged I looked at his hand and saw a
- thin silk bandage covering the signs of a slight healing wound. Had we
- taken a quicker initiative at the time Larsan told us that lie about the
- cane, I am certain he would have gone off, to avoid suspicion. All the
- same, we worried Larsan or Ballmeyer without our knowing it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” I interrupted, “if Larsan had no intention of using the cane as
- evidence against Darzac, why had he made himself up to look like the man
- when he went in to buy it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He had not specially ‘made up’ as Darzac to buy the cane; he had come
- straight to Cassette’s immediately after he had attacked Mademoiselle
- Stangerson. His wound was troubling him and, as he was passing along the
- Avenue de l’Opera, the idea of the cane came to his mind and he acted on
- it. It was then eight o’clock. And I, who had hit upon the very hour of
- the occurrence of the tragedy, almost convinced that Darzac was not the
- criminal, and knowing of the cane, I still never suspected Larsan. There
- are times...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are times,” I said, “when the greatest intellects—...”
- Rouletabille shut my mouth. I still continued to chide him, but, finding
- he did not reply, I saw he was no longer paying any attention to what I
- was saying. I found he was fast asleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIX. The Mystery of Mademoiselle Stangerson
- </h2>
- <p>
- During the days that followed I had several opportunities to question him
- as to his reason for his voyage to America, but I obtained no more precise
- answers than he had given me on the evening of the adjournment of the
- trial, when we were on the train for Paris. One day, however, on my still
- pressing him, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t you understand that I had to know Larsan’s true personality?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt,” I said, “but why did you go to America to find that out?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He sat smoking his pipe, and made no further reply. I began to see that I
- was touching on the secret that concerned Mademoiselle Stangerson.
- Rouletabille evidently had found it necessary to go to America to find out
- what the mysterious tie was that bound her to Larsan by so strange and
- terrible a bond. In America he had learned who Larsan was and had obtained
- information which closed his mouth. He had been to Philadelphia.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, what was this mystery which held Mademoiselle Stangerson and
- Monsieur Robert Darzac in so inexplicable a silence? After so many years
- and the publicity given the case by a curious and shameless press; now
- that Monsieur Stangerson knows all and has forgiven all, all may be told.
- In every phase of this remarkable story Mademoiselle Stangerson had always
- been the sufferer.
- </p>
- <p>
- The beginning dates from the time when, as a young girl, she was living
- with her father in Philadelphia. A visitor at the house, a Frenchman, had
- succeeded by his wit, grace and persistent attention, in gaining her
- affections. He was said to be rich and had asked her of her father.
- Monsieur Stangerson, on making inquiries as to Monsieur Jean Roussel,
- found that the man was a swindler and an adventurer. Jean Roussel was but
- another of the many names under which the notorious Ballmeyer, a fugitive
- from France, tried to hide himself. Monsieur Stangerson did not know of
- his identity with Ballmeyer; he learned that the man was simply
- undesirable for his daughter. He not only refused to give his consent to
- the marriage but denied him admission into the house. Mathilde Stangerson,
- however, had fallen in love. To her Jean Roussel was everything that her
- love painted him. She was indignant at her father’s attitude, and did not
- conceal her feelings. Her father sent her to stay with an aunt in
- Cincinnati. There she was joined by Jean Roussel and, in spite of the
- reverence she felt for her father, ran away with him to get married.
- </p>
- <p>
- They went to Louisville and lived there for some time. One morning,
- however, a knock came at the door of the house in which they were and the
- police entered to arrest Jean Roussel. It was then that Mathilde
- Stangerson, or Roussel, learned that her husband was no other than the
- notorious Ballmeyer!
- </p>
- <p>
- The young woman in her despair tried to commit suicide. She failed in
- this, and was forced to rejoin her aunt in Cincinnati, The old lady was
- overjoyed to see her again. She had been anxiously searching for her and
- had not dared to tell Monsieur Stangerson of her disappearance. Mathilde
- swore her to secrecy, so that her father should not know she had been
- away. A month later, Mademoiselle Stangerson returned to her father,
- repentant, her heart dead within her, hoping only one thing: that she
- would never again see her husband, the horrible Ballmeyer. A report was
- spread, a few weeks later, that he was dead, and she now determined to
- atone for her disobedience by a life of labour and devotion for her
- father. And she kept her word.
- </p>
- <p>
- All this she had confessed to Robert Darzac, and, believing Ballmeyer
- dead, had given herself to the joy of a union with him. But fate had
- resuscitated Jean Roussel—the Ballmeyer of her youth. He had taken
- steps to let her know that he would never allow her to marry Darzac—that
- he still loved her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mademoiselle Stangerson never for one moment hesitated to confide in
- Monsieur Darzac. She showed him the letter in which Jean Roussel asked her
- to recall the first hours of their union in their beautiful and charming
- Louisville home. “The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the
- garden its brightness,” he had written. The scoundrel pretended to be rich
- and claimed the right of taking her back to Louisville. She had told
- Darzac that if her father should know of her dishonour, she would kill
- herself. Monsieur Darzac had sworn to silence her persecutor, even if he
- had to kill him. He was outwitted and would have succumbed had it not been
- for the genius of Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mademoiselle Stangerson was herself helpless in the hands of such a
- villain. She had tried to kill him when he had first threatened and then
- attacked her in “The Yellow Room”. She had, unfortunately, failed, and felt
- herself condemned to be for ever at the mercy of this unscrupulous wretch
- who was continually demanding her presence at clandestine interviews. When
- he sent her the letter through the Post Office, asking her to meet him,
- she had refused. The result of her refusal was the tragedy of The Yellow
- Room. The second time he wrote asking for a meeting, the letter reaching
- her in her sick chamber, she had avoided him by sleeping with her
- servants. In that letter the scoundrel had warned her that, since she was
- too ill to come to him, he would come to her, and that he would be in her
- chamber at a particular hour on a particular night. Knowing that she had
- everything to fear from Ballmeyer, she had left her chamber on that night.
- It was then that the incident of the “inexplicable gallery” occurred.
- </p>
- <p>
- The third time she had determined to keep the appointment. He asked for it
- in the letter he had written in her own room, on the night of the incident
- in the gallery, which he left on her desk. In that letter he threatened to
- burn her father’s papers if she did not meet him. It was to rescue these
- papers that she made up her mind to see him. She did not for one moment
- doubt that the wretch would carry out his threat if she persisted in
- avoiding him, and in that case the labours of her father’s lifetime would
- be for ever lost. Since the meeting was thus inevitable, she resolved to
- see her husband and appeal to his better nature. It was for this interview
- that she had prepared herself on the night the keeper was killed. They did
- meet, and what passed between them may be imagined. He insisted that she
- renounce Darzac. She, on her part, affirmed her love for him. He stabbed
- her in his anger, determined to convict Darzac of the crime. As Larsan he
- could do it, and had so managed things that Darzac could never explain how
- he had employeed the time of his absence from the chateau. Ballmeyer’s
- precautions were most cunningly taken.
- </p>
- <p>
- Larsan had threatened Darzac as he had threatened Mathilde—with the
- same weapon, and the same threats. He wrote Darzac urgent letters,
- declaring himself ready to deliver up the letters that had passed between
- him and his wife, and to leave them for ever, if he would pay him his
- price. He asked Darzac to meet him for the purpose of arranging the
- matter, appointing the time when Larsan would be with Mademoiselle
- Stangerson. When Darzac went to Epinay, expecting to find Ballmeyer or
- Larsan there, he was met by an accomplice of Larsan’s, and kept waiting
- until such time as the “coincidence” could be established.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was all done with Machiavellian cunning; but Ballmeyer had reckoned
- without Joseph Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now that the Mystery of “The Yellow Room” has been cleared up, this is not
- the time to tell of Rouletabille’s adventures in America. Knowing the
- young reporter as we do, we can understand with what acumen he had traced,
- step by step, the story of Mathilde Stangerson and Jean Roussel. At
- Philadelphia he had quickly informed himself as to Arthur William Rance.
- There he learned of Rance’s act of devotion and the reward he thought
- himself entitled to for it. A rumour of his marriage with Mademoiselle
- Stangerson had once found its way into the drawing-rooms of Philadelphia.
- He also learned of Rance’s continued attentions to her and his
- importunities for her hand. He had taken to drink, he had said, to drown
- his grief at his unrequited love. It can now be understood why
- Rouletabille had shown so marked a coolness of demeanour towards Rance
- when they met in the witnesses’ room, on the day of the trial.
- </p>
- <p>
- The strange Roussel-Stangerson mystery had now been laid bare. Who was
- this Jean Roussel? Rouletabille had traced him from Philadelphia to
- Cincinnati. In Cincinnati he became acquainted with the old aunt, and had
- found means to open her mouth. The story of Ballmeyer’s arrest threw the
- right light on the whole story. He visited the “presbytery”—a small
- and pretty dwelling in the old colonial style—which had, indeed,
- “lost nothing of its charm.” Then, abandoning his pursuit of traces of
- Mademoiselle Stangerson, he took up those of Ballmeyer. He followed them
- from prison to prison, from crime to crime. Finally, as he was about
- leaving for Europe, he learned in New York that Ballmeyer had, five years
- before, embarked for France with some valuable papers belonging to a
- merchant of New Orleans whom he had murdered.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet the whole of this mystery has not been revealed. Mademoiselle
- Stangerson had a child, by her husband,—a son. The infant was born
- in the old aunt’s house. No one knew of it, so well had the aunt managed
- to conceal the event.
- </p>
- <p>
- What became of that son?—That is another story which, so far, I am
- not permitted to relate.
- </p>
- <p>
- About two months after these events, I came upon Rouletabille sitting on a
- bench in the Palais de Justice, looking very depressed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s the matter, old man?” I asked. “You are looking very downcast.
- How are your friends getting on?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Apart from you,” he said, “I have no friends.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope that Monsieur Darzac—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Mademoiselle Stangerson—How is she?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Better—much better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you ought not to be sad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sad,” he said, “because I am thinking of the perfume of the lady in
- black—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The perfume of the lady in black!—I have heard you often refer to
- it. Tell me why it troubles you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps—some day; some day,” said Rouletabille.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he heaved a profound sigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-
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