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LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

FROM THE BOOKS
OF
JOHN STAIGE DAVIS

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THE MYSTERY
THE YELLOW ROOM








THE MYSTERY
OF THE
YELLOW ROOM
EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES OF
JOSEPH ROULETABILLE
REPORTER
BY
GASTON LEROUX
ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM
THE' PHOTOPLAY PRODUCED BY
REALART PICTURES CORPORATION

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS


P, C R ^
"PR\<3\o
499354
Copyright, 1908
By Bhentaho's


CONTENTS
CHAPTERPAGE
I In which we Begin not to Understand . . 1
II In which Joseph Rouletabille Appears for
the First Time 13
III "A Man has Passed like a Shadow through
the Blinds" 22
IV "In the Bosom of Wild Nature" . . . . S5
V In which Joseph Rouletabille Makes a Re-
mark to Monsieur Robert Darzac which
Produces its Little Effect 41
VI In the Heart of the Oak Grove .... 48
VII In which Rouletabille Sets out on an Expe-
dition under the Bed 64
VIII The Examining Magistrate Questions
Mademoiselle Stangerson ■76
IX Reporter and Detective 85
X "We shall have to eat Red Meat —Now" . 96
XI In which Frederic Larsan Explains how
the Murderer was Able to get out of
The Yellow Room 106
XII Frederic Larsan's Cane 133
XIII "The presbytery has Lost Nothing of its
Charm, nor the Garden its Brightness" 140
XIV "I Expect the Assassin this Evening" . . 156
XV The Trap 165
v


CONTENTS
chapterPAGE
XVI Strange Phenomenon of the Dissociation
of Matter 180
XVII The Inexplicable Gallery 184.
XVIII Rouletabille has Drawn a Circle between
the Two Bumps on his Forehead. . 194*
XIX Rouletabille Invites me to Breakfast at
the Donjon Inn 197
XX An Act of Mademoiselle Stangerson . 213
XXI On the Watch 219
XXII The Incredible Body 230
XXIII The Double Scent 235
XXIV Rouletabille Knows the Two Halves of
the Murderer 239
XXV Rouletabille Goes on a Journey . . . 249
XXVI In which Joseph Rouletabille is Awaited
with Impatience 251
XXVII In which Joseph Rouletabille Appears
in all his Glory 26l
XXVIII In which it is Proved that one does not
Always Think of Everything . . . 295
XXIX The Mystery of Mademoiselle Stangerson 300


THE MYSTERY
OF
THE YELLOW ROOM





The
Mystery of The Yellow Room
CHAPTER I
In Which We Begin not to understandIT 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 curi-
ous 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 sensa-
tional dramas, with which my friend was so closely
mixed up, if, a propos of a recent nomination of
the illustrious Stangerson to the grade of grand-
cross of the Legion of Honour, an evening j ournal
—'-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.
"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
1 1


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
and the tragic history of the death of little Men-
aldo passed out of mind? And yet the public at-
tention 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 solu-
tion 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 fasci-
nated. 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 en-
ables 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."
That which nobody could find out, Joseph
Rouletabille, aged eighteen, then a reporter en-
gaged on a leading journal, succeeded in discover-
ing. 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
2


WE BEGIN NOT TO UNDERSTAND
are going to know all; and, without further pre-
amble, 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.
On the 25th of October, 1892, the follow-
ing note appeared in the latest edition of the
"Temps " : —
"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 at-
tempt was made to assassinate Mademoiselle
Stangerson, who was sleeping in a chamber ad-
joining this laboratory. The doctors do not
answer for the life of Mdlle. Stangerson."
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 radi-
ography — 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 " M*5tin," among others, pub-


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
lished the following article, entitled: "A Super-
natural Crime ": —
"These are the only details," wrote the anony-
mous writer in the " Matin " — " we have been able
to obtain concerning the crime of the Chateau du
Glandier. The state of despair in which Pro-
fessor Stangerson is plunged, arid the impossibil-
ity 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 — an 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.
"' 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 put-
ting 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 Stanger-
son and bade him good-night. To me she said
4


WE BEGIN NOT TO UNDERSTAND
"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 Made-
moiselle 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 dis-
tant 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.
"' 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 at-
tach importance to the fact that we made no
noise; for, because of that, the assassin certainly
thought that we had left the place. And, sud-
denly, while the cuckoo was sounding the half
after midnight, a desperate clamour broke out in
5


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
The Yellow Room. It was the voice of Made-
moiselle, crying "Murder! — murder! — help!"
Immediately afterwards revolver shots rang out
and there was a great noise of tables and furni-
ture being thrown to the ground, as if in the
course of a struggle, and again the voice of
Mademoiselle calling, "Murder! — help! — Papa!
— Papa! —"
"' You may be sure that we quickly sprang up
and that Monsieur Stangerson and I threw our-
selves upon the door. But alas! it was locked,
fast locked, on the inside, by the care of Made-
moiselle, 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.
"' 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.
"' 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 at-
tracted by the pistol reports and by our cries.
6


WE BEGIN NOT TO UNDERSTAND
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.
"' 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 my-
self 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.
"' It was unfortunate, — enough to turn one's
brain! The door of the room locked on the in-
side 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.
"' With the concierge I hurried back to the
pavilion. The door, in spite of the furious at-
tempts 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
7


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
tell you that, behind us, the concierge held the
laboratory lamp — a powerful lamp, that lit the
whole chamber.
"' 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 vio-
lent 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 Mon-
sieur Stangerson saw his daughter in that state,
he threw himself on his knees beside her, utter-
ing 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!
"' But how to explain that he was not there,
that he had already escaped? It passes all im-
agination ! — Nobody under the bed, nobody be-
hind 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,
8


WE BEGIN NOT TO UNDERSTAND
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 van-
ished? 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.
"' 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 Stang-
erson 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. Jus-
tice wants no more to send a man to the scaffold!'"
The editor of the " Matin" added to this inter-
view the following lines: —


THE MYSTERYOF THE YELLOW ROOM
"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 be-
ing 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 per-
haps 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: —
"' Can you, Monsieur de Marquet, give us any
information as to this affair, without inconvenience
to the course of your inquiry?'
"' It is impossible for us to do it,' replied Mon-
sieur de Marquet. 'I can only say that it is the
10


WE BEGIN NOT TO UNDERSTAND
strangest affair I have ever known. The more we
think we know something, the further we are from
knowing anything!'
"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: —
"' If nothing is added to the material facts so
far established, I fear that the mystery which sur-
rounds the abominable crime of which Mademoi-
selle 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 dis-
courage us. For the problem is this: we know by
what way the assassin gained admission, — he en-
tered 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!'"
And the anonymous writer in the "Matin"
added in this article — which I have selected as
the most interesting of all those that were pub-
11


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
lished on the subject of this affair — that the ex-
amining magistrate appeared to place a peculiar
significance to the last sentence: "One must really
believe in the Devil, as Jacques says."
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 par-
ticularly sinister cry which is uttered sometimes at
night by the cat of an old woman, — Mother An-
genoux, 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.
"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 dis-
entangle for us to-morrow. Let us at least hope
that, for the sake of our human reason, as the exam-
ining 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."
In conclusion, and at a late hour, the same jour-
nal announced that the Chief of the Siirete had
telegraphed to the famous detective, Frederic Lar-
san, who had been sent to London for an affair of
stolen securities, to return immediately to Paris.
12


CHAPTER IIIn Which Joseph Rouletabille Appears for
the First Time
I REMEMBER as well as if it had occurred yes-
terday, 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.
But, before going further, it is time that I pre-
sent my friend to the reader.
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
13


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 Obers-
kampf — 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 search-
ing 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.
When the editor-in-chief was in possession of the
precious foot and informed as to the train of in-
telligent 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 six-
teen years, and delight at being able to exhibit, in
the "morgue window" of his paper, the left foot
of the Rue Oberskampf.
"This foot," he cried, " will make a great head-
line."
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 "?
"Two hundred francs a month," the youngster
replied modestly, hardly able to breathe from sur-
prise at the proposal.
14


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
"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."'
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: —
"Joseph Josephine."
"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."
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 com-
panions. 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 un-
raveller 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 Roulet-
abille — 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.
It was at the Bar cafe that I became intimately
acquainted with him. Criminal lawyers and jour-
nalists are not enemies, the former need advertise-
15


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
ment, the latter information. We chatted together,
and I soon warmed towards him. His intelligence
was so keen, and so original! — and he had a qual-
ity of thought such as I have never found in any
other person.
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 in-
formation of which he stood in need.
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. Accus-
tomed 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.
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 lead-
ing 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
16


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
man the perfection of two such lines of activity if
we remember that the daily press was already be-
ginning to transform itself and to become what it
is to-day — the gazette of crime.
Morose-minded people may complain of this;
for myself I regard it a matter for congratula-
tion. 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 encour-
aging 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 bulg-
ing 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: —
"Well, my dear Sainclair, — have you read it?"
"The Glandier crime?"
"Yes; 'The Yellow Room'! —What do you
think of it?"
"I think that it must have been the Devil or
the Bete du Bon Dieu that committed the crime."
"Be serious!"
"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 com-
mitted and, as he occupied the attic immediately
above Mademoiselle Stangerson's room, the build-
er's job ordered by the examining magistrate
2 17


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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."
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: —
"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!"
He continued to smoke energetically, and then
went on: —
"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 ex-
amining magistrate is right; nothing stranger
than this crime has ever been known."
"Have you any idea of the way by which the ,
murderer escaped?" I asked.
"None," replied Rouletabille — " none, for the
present. But I have an idea as to the revolver;
the murderer did not use it."
"Good Heavens! By whom, then, was it used?"
"Why — by Mademoiselle Stangerson."
18


JOSEPH ROUEETABILLE APPEARS
"I don't understand, — or rather, I have never
understood," I said.
Rouletabille shrugged his shoulders.
"Is there nothing in this article in the ' Matin'
by which you were particularly struck?"
"Nothing, — I have found the whole of the
story it tells equally strange."
"Well, but — the locked door — with the key
on the inside?"
"That's the only perfectly natural thing in the
whole article."
"Really! — And the bolt?"
"The bolt?"
"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 did n'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 did n't fire soon enough to avoid the ter-
rible blow on the right temple."
"Then the wound on the temple was not done
with the revolver?"
"The paper does n't say it was, and I don't
think it was; because logically it appears to me
19


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
that the revolver was used by Mademoiselle Stang-
erson against the assassin. Now, what weapon did
the murderer use? The blow on the temple seems to
show that the murderer wished to stun Mademoi-
selle 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."
"All that does n't explain how the murderer got
out of ' The Yellow Room,' " I observed.
"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."
"I?"—
"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."
"But in what way can I be of any use to you?"
"Monsieur Robert Darzac is at the Chateau du
Glandier."
"That's true. His despair must be boundless."
"I must have a talk with him."
Rouletabille said it in a tone that surprised me.
"Is it because — you think there is something
to be got out of him?" I asked.
"Yes."
That was all he would say. He retired to my
sitting-room, begging me to dress quickly.
I knew Monsieur Robert Darzac from having
been of great service to him in a civil action, while
20


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
I was acting as secretary to Maitre Barbet Dela-
tour. 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 remark-
ably good-looking.
While I was dressing I called out to Rou-
letabille, who was impatiently moving about my
sitting-room: —
"Have you any idea as to the murderer's station
in life?"
"Yes," he replied; " I think if he is n't a man in
society, he is, at least, a man belonging to the upper
class. But that, again, is only an impression."
"What has led you to form it?"
"Well, — the greasy cap, the common handker-
chief, and the marks of the rough boots on the
floor," he replied.
"I understand," I said; " murderers don't leave
traces behind them which tell the truth."
"We shall make something out of you yet, my
dear Sainclair," concluded Rouletabille.
21


CHAPTER III
"A Man Has Passed like a Shadow
through the Blinds"
HALF an hour later Rouletabille and I were
on the platform of the Orleans station, await-
ing the departure of the train which was to take
us to Epinay-sur-Orge.
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, assisting in the final rehearsal,
at the Scala, of a little play of which he was the
unknown author, signing himself simply " Castigat
Ridendo."
Monsieur 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 inter-
ested 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.
Because of the mystery which shrouded it, the
case of " The Yellow Room " was certain to fasci-
22


LIKE A SHADOW THROUGH THE BLINDS
nate so theatrical a mind. It interested him enor-
mously, 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.
So that, at the moment of meeting him, I heard
Monsieur de Marquet say to the Registrar with a
sigh: —
"I hope, my dear Monsieur Maleine, this builder
with his pickaxe will not destroy so fine a
mystery."
"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."
Having thus reassured his chief, Monsieur Ma-
leine, 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 Roulet-
abille 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!"
Monsieur Maleine replied in the same tone, "I
understand!" and then tried to prevent Roulet-
abille from entering the same compartment with
the examining magistrate.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, — this compartment is
reserved."
"I am a journalist, Monsieur, engaged on the
* Epoque,'" said my young friend with a great
23


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
show of gesture and politeness, "and I have a
word or two to say to Monsieur de Marquet."
"Monsieur is very much engaged with the in-
quiry he has in hand."
"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 con-
tempt 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."
"Get in, sir, please," said the Registrar.
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.
Monsieur de Marquet looked at him.
"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 — per-
sonally, as well as the writer for the 'Epoque.'"
And Rouletabille, having first introduced me, in-
troduced himself.
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.
"The work of the dramatic author may inter-
24


LIKE A SHADOW THROUGH THE BLINDS
fere," he said, after a slight hesitation, " with that
of the magistrate,■ especially in a province where
one's labours are little more than routine."
"Oh, you may rely on my discretion!" cried
Rouletabille.
The train was in motion.
"We have started!" said the examining magis-
trate, surprised at seeing us still in the carriage.
"Yes, Monsieur, — truth has started," said
Rouletabille, smiling amiably, —" on its way to
the Chateau du Glandier. A fine case, Monsieur
de Marquet, — a fine case!"
"An obscure — incredible, unfathomable, inex-
plicable affair — and there is only one thing I fear,
Monsieur Rouletabille, — that the j ournalists will
be trying to explain it."
My friend felt this a rap on his knuckles.
"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."
"Where are you going, then?" asked Monsieur
de Marquet.
"To the Chateau du Glandier," replied Rou-
letabille, without turning.
"You 'll not get in, Monsieur Rouletabille!"
"Will you prevent me?" said my friend, al-
ready prepared to fight.
"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
25


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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."
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 Roulet-
abille had perhaps seen once in his life.
"Poor Robert!" continued the young reporter,
"this dreadful affair may be his death, — he is
so deeply in love with Mademoiselle Stangerson."
"His sufferings are truly painful to witness,"
escaped like a regret from the lips of Monsieur de
Marquet.
"But it is to be hoped that Mademoiselle Stang-
erson's life will be saved."
"Let us hope so. Her father told me yester-
day 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!"
"The wound on her temple is serious, is it
not?"
"Evidently; but, by a wonderful chance, it has
not proved mortal. The blow was given with great
force."
"Then it was not with the revolver she was
wounded," said Rouletabille, glancing at me in
triumph.
Monsieur de Marquet appeared greatly em-
barrassed.
26


LIKE A SHADOW THROUGH THE BLINDS
"I did n'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.
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: —
"There is one thing, Monsieur, which I may en-
quire of you without committing an indiscretion.
You have, of course, seen the account given in the
'Matin '? It is absurd, is it not?"
"Not in the slightest, Monsieur."
"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!"
"That's so, monsieur, — that's so. That's
how the matter stands."
Rouletabille said no more but plunged into
thought. A quarter of an hour thus passed.
Coming back to himself again he said, address-
ing the magistrate: —
"How did Mademoiselle Stangerson wear her
hair on that evening?"
"I don't know," replied Monsieur de Marquet.
"That's a very important point," said Roulet-
abille. "Her hair was done up in bands, was n't *
it? I feel sure that on that evening, the evening
of the crime, she had her hair arranged in bands."
"Then you are mistaken, Monsieur Rouleta-
bille," replied the magistrate; "Mademoiselle
Stangerson that evening had her hair drawn up
27


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 care-
fully examined the wound. There was no blood on
the hair, and the arrangement of it has not been
disturbed since the crime was committed."
"You are sure! You are sure that, on the
night of the crime, she had not her hair in
bands?"
"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."
"Oh! if she had not her hair in bands, I
give it up," said Rouletabille, with a despairing
gesture.
"And was the wound on her temple a bad one?"
he asked presently.
"Terrible."
"With what weapon was it made?"
"That is a secret of the investigation."
"Have you found the weapon — whatever it
was?"
The magistrate did not answer.
"And the wound in the throat?"
Here the examining magistrate readily con-
firmed the decision of the doctor that, if the mur-
derer had pressed her throat a few seconds longer,
28


LIKE A SHADOW THROUGH THE BLINDS
Mademoiselle Stangerson would have died of
strangulation.
"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."
"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 investi-
gating. "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 Mon-
sieur 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 re-
mained 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 labo-
ratory looking out on to the country; the window
in the vestibule looking into the park."
"It is by that window that he escaped from the
pavilion!" cried Rouletabille.
"How do you know that?" demanded Monsieur
29


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
de Marquet, fixing a strange look on my young
friend.
"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."
"Once more, — how do you know that?"
"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 se-
cured 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."
"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 re-
mained 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
30


LIKE A SHADOW THROUGH THE BLINDS
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."
"You hope, Monsieur?"
Monsieur de Marquet corrected himself.
"I do not hope so, — I think so."
"Could that window have been closed and re-
fastened after the flight of the assassin?" asked
Rouletabille.
"That is what occurred to me for a moment;
but it would imply an accomplice or accomplices,
— and I don't see —"
After a short silence he added: —
"Ah—if Mademoiselle Stangerson were only well
enough to-day to allow of her being questioned!"
Rouletabille following up his thought, asked: —
"And the attic? — There must be some open-
ing to that?"
"Yes; there is a window, or rather skylight, in
it, which, as it looks out towards the country, Mon-
sieur Stangerson has had barred, like the rest of
the windows. These bars, as in the other windows,
have remained intact, and the blinds, which natu-
rally 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."
"It seems clear to you, then, Monsieur, that the
murderer escaped — nobody knows how — by the
window in the vestibule?"
31


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"Everything goes to prove it."
"I think so, too," confessed Rouletabille gravely.
After a brief silence, he continued: —
"If you have not found any traces of the mur-
derer in the attic, such as the dirty footmarks sim-
ilar 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."
"There are no footmarks in the attic other than
those of Daddy Jacques himself," said the magis-
trate with a significant turn of his head. Then,
after an apparent decision, he added: "Daddy
Jacques was with Monsieur Stangerson in the lab-
oratory ■—■ and it was lucky for him he was."
"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."
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."
"Oh! oh! in the ceiling!" muttered Rouleta-
bille. "In the ceiling! That's very curious! —
In the ceiling!"
He puffed awhile in silence at his pipe, envelop-
ing himself in the smoke. When we reached Sa-
vigny-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.


LIKE A SHADOW THROUGH THE BLINDS
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.
"How long will it take to walk to the Chateau
du Glandier?" Rouletabille asked one of the
railway porters.
"An hour and a half or an hour and three
quarters — easy walking," the man replied.
Rouletabille looked up at the sky and, no doubt,
finding its appearance satisfactory, took my arm
and said: —
"Come on! — I need a walk."
"Are things getting less entangled?" I asked.
"Not a bit of it!" he said, "more entangled
than ever! It's true, I have an idea —"
"What's that?" I asked.
"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."
"Do you think there were accomplices?"
"I don't think it —"
We fell into silence. Presently he went on: —
"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: —
"Poor woman!"
"Is it Mademoiselle Stangerson you are pity-
ing?"
"Yes; she 's a noble woman and worthy of being
8 S3


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
pitied! — a woman of a great, a very great char-
acter — I imagine — I imagine."
"You know her then?"
"Not at all. I have never seen her but once."
"Why, then, do you say that she is a woman
of great character?"
"Because she bravely faced the murderer; be-
cause she courageously defended herself — and,
above all, because of the bullet in the ceiling."
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 as-
sured 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.
S4


CHAPTER IV
"In the Bosom of Wild Nature"
the Chateau du Glandier is one of the oldest
chateaux in the He 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 Glan-
dier, Maisons-Neuves and other places, built the
existing town in an abominably rococo style of
architecture.
It was in this place, seemingly belonging en-
tirely to the past, that Professor Stangerson and
his daughter installed themselves to lay the foun-
dations 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 wit-
ness their labours and intrude on their hopes, but
the aged stones and grand old oaks. The Glan-
dier — ancient Glandierum — was so called from
the quantity of glands (acorns) which, in all times,
35


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 metamor-
phoses. 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.
Having explained so far, I cannot refrain from
making one further reflexion. If I have lingered a
little over this description of the Glandier, it is not
because I have reached the right moment for cre-
ating the necessary atmosphere for the unfolding
of the tragedy before the eyes of the reader. In-
deed, 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. *
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. An-
other old chateau in the neighbourhood, built in
36


"IN THE BOSOM OF WILD NATURE"
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.
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 re-
turned 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 through-
out the whole scientific world. Monsieur Stang-
erson 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 dis-
coveries 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.
37


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
If he did not try to conceal his satisfaction at
coming into possession of this fortune, which en-
abled him to give himself up to his passion for
pure science, he had equally to rejoice, it seemed
to him, for another cause. Mademoiselle Stanger-
son 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 profes-
sor's French nationality is accounted for.
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 an-
swered: "It is my daughter's wish. I can refuse
her nothing. She has chosen the Glandier."
Interrogated in her turn, the young girl replied
38


"IN THE BOSOM OF WILD NATURE"
calmly: "Where could we work better than in this
solitude?" For Mademoiselle Stangerson had al-
ready 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 sen-
sation. 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.
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 Stanger-
son 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.
Suddenly, some weeks before the events with
which we are occupied, a report — to which no-
body attached any importance, so incredible did it
sound — was spread about Paris, that Mademoi-
selle Stangerson had at last consented to " crown"
39


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
the inextinguishable flame of Monsieur Robert Dar-
zac! It needed that Monsieur Robert Darzac him-
self 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, Mon-
sieur 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 Glan-
dier, 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 Glan-
dier, and the son-in-law would lend his assistance
in the work to which the father and daughter had
dedicated their lives.
The scientific world had barely had time to re-
cover 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 Dar-
zac. On crossing the threshold of "The Yellow
Room " he was as well posted as I was.
40


CHAPTER V
In Which Joseph Rouletabille Makes a Re-
mark to Monsieur Robert Darzac Which
Produces its Little Effect
ROULETABILLE and I had been walking for
several minutes, by the side of a long wall
bounding the vast property of Monsieur Stanger-
son and had already come within sight of the en-
trance 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. Rouleta-
bille had brought me to a standstill by a gesture.
"Hush! Frederic Larsan is at work! Don't let
us disturb him!"
Rouletabille had a great admiration for the cel-
ebrated 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 un-
raveller of the moat mysterious and complicated
41


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 inspec-
tors and detectives found themselves at the end of
their wits and resources.
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 subordi-
nate 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.
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 in-
tently. Then he turned back still running, stop-
ping 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 ges-
ture 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.
"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
42


ROULETABILLE MAKES A REMARK
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."
"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 diffi-
cult investigations. "I have not seen him."
"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.
"The concierges will not be able to give you any
information, Monsieur Rouletabille."
"Why not?"
"Because they were arrested half an hour
ago."
"Arrested!" cried Rouletabille; "then they
are the murderers!"
Frederic Larsan shrugged his shoulders.
"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."
"Did you have them arrested, Monsieur Fred?"
"Not I! — I have n'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 —"
"Because of what?" asked Rouletabille eagerly.
"Because of nothing," said Larsan, shaking his
head. .
"Because there were no accomplices!" said
Rouletabille.
"Aha! — you have an idea, then, about this
43


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
matter?" said Larsan, looking at Rouletabille in-
tently, "yet you have seen nothing, young man,
— you have not yet gained admission here!"
"I shall get admission."
"I doubt it. The orders are strict."
"I shall gain admission, if you let me see Mon-
sieur 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?"
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.
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 disquiet-
ing. 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
44


ROULETABILLE MAKES A REMARK
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.
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 Regis-
trar from the station at Epinay.
"Ah!" said Frederic Larsan, "if you want
to speak with Monsieur Robert Darzac, he is
here."
The cab was already at the park gate and Rob-
ert 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 unlock-
ing the gate, Monsieur Darzac inquired what had
brought me to the Glandier at such a tragic mo-
ment. I noticed that he was frightfully pale, and
that his face was lined as if from the effects of
some terrible suffering.
"Is Mademoiselle getting better?" I immedi-
ately asked.
"Yes," he said. "She will be saved perhaps.
She must be saved!"
He did not add " or it will be my death "; but
I felt that the phrase trembled on his pale lips.
Rouletabille intervened: —
"You are in a hurry, Monsieur; but I must
speak with you. I have something of the greatest
importance to tell you."
45


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
Frederick Larsan interrupted: —
"May I leave you?" he asked of Robert Darzac.
"Have you a key, or do you wish me to give you
this one."
"Thank you. I have a key and will lock the
gate."
Larsan hurried off in the direction of the
chateau, the imposing pile of which could be per-
ceived a few hundred yards away.
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 min-
utes, bowed, and whipped up his horse. But Rou-
letabille 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.
"The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm,
nor the garden its brightness."
The words had hardly left the lips of Rouleta-
bille 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.
"Come! — come in!" he stammered.
Then, suddenly, and with a sort of fury, he
repeated:—
"Let us go, monsieur."
He turned up by the road he had come from the
46


ROULETABILLE MAKES A REMARK
chateau, Rouletabille still retaining his hold on the
horse's bridle. I addressed a few words to Mon-
sieur Darzac, but he made no answer. My looks
questioned Rouletabille, but his gaze was else-
where.


CHAPTER VI
In the Heart of the Oak Grove
WE reached the chateau, and, as we ap-
proached it, saw four gendarmes pacing in
front of a little door in the ground floor of the
donj on. 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 furni-
ture, Monsieur Darzac turned to Rouletabille and
said sharply: —
"What do you want?"
The reporter answered in an equally sharp
tone:—
"To shake you by the hand."
Darzac shrank back.
"What does that mean?"
Evidently he understood, what I also under-
stood, that my friend suspected him of the abom-
48


IN THE HEART OF THE OAK GROVE
inable attempt on the life of Mademoiselle Stanger-
son. 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 straightfor-
ward was at this moment strangely troubled. He
held out his right hand and, referring to me,
said: —
"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 —"
Rouletabille did not take the extended hand.
Lying with the utmost audacity, he said: -—■
"Monsieur, I have lived several years in Russia,
where I have acquired the habit of never taking any
but an ungloved hand."
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 un-
marked by any cicatrice.
"Are you satisfied?"
"No!" replied Rouletabille. "My dear friend,"
he said, turning to me, " I am obliged to ask you to
leave us alone for a moment."
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.
4 49


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
For some twenty minutes I walked about in front
of the chateau, trying vainly to link together the dif-
ferent 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, re-
mained unexplained, I thought it was the duty of
all of us to refrain from suspecting anybody. But,
then, that seemingly senseless phrase — " The pres-
bytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the
garden its brightness " — still rung in my ears.
What did it mean? I was eager to rejoin Rou-
letabille and question him.
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 —"
"You 'll breakfast with me, here, gentlemen —"
"No, thanks," replied the young man. "We
shall breakfast at the Donjon Inn."
"You 'll fare very badly there; you 'll not find
anything —"
"Do you think so? Well, I hope to find some-
50


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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."
"If they had been accomplices," said Rouleta-
bille, " 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."
"Then, why were they abroad at midnight?
Why don't they say?"
"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."
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 con-
torted, 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
52


IN THE HEART OF THE OAK GROVE
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 mourn-
ing, charged with great, heavy clouds.
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 build-
ing 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 Mademoi-
selle Stangerson must have found it an ideal seclu-
sion for their work and their dreams.

BncWtliig Wail
Here is the ground plan of the pavilion. It had
a ground-floor which was reached by a few steps,
53


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
1. The Yellow Room, with its one window and
its one door opening into the laboratory.
2. Laboratory, with its two large, barred win-
dows 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.
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 be-
fore them, my readers will know as much as Rou-
letabille 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: —
"What was the motive for the crime?"
"Speaking for myself, Monsieur, there can be
no doubt on the matter," said Mademoiselle Stang-
erson's fiance, greatly distressed. "The marks of
the fingers, the deep scratches on the chest and
throat of Mademoiselle Stangerson show that the
54


IN THE HEART OF THE OAK GROVE
wretch who attacked her attempted to commit a
frightful crime. The medical experts who exam-
ined 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.
"Could not that blood-stained hand," I inter-
rupted, "have been the hand of Mademoiselle
Stangerson who, in the moment of falling, had
pressed it against the wall, and, in slipping, en-
larged the impression?"
"There was not a drop of blood on either of
her hands when she was lifted up," replied Mon-
sieur Darzac.
"We are now sure," said I, " that it was Made-
moiselle 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."
"Probably."
"Do you suspect anybody?"
"No," replied Monsieur Darzac, looking at Row. lexabille.
Rouletabille then said to me: —
"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 Mar-
quet surrounding this mutton-bor.c with so much
55


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
mystery? No doubt for the purpose of facilitat-
ing the inquiries of the agents of the Surete? He
imagines, perhaps, that the owner of this instru-
ment 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 examin-
ing magistrate?" Rouletabille added with con-
temptuous irony.
"Has a mutton-bone been found in The Yellow
Room? " I asked him.
"Yes, Monsieur," said Robert Darzac, "at the
foot of the bed; but I beg of you not to say any-
thing 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 Mar-
quet thinks who 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."
"A mutton-bone in the hand of a skilledassassin
is a frightful weapon," said Rouletabille, " a more
certain weapon than a heavy hammer."
"The scoundrel has proved it to be so," said
Monsieur Robert Darzac, sadly. "The joint of
the bone found exactly fits the wound inflicted.
My belief is that the wound would have been mor-
tal, if the murderer's blow had not been arrested in
the act by Mademoiselle Stangerson's revolver.
M


IN THE HEART OF THE OAK GROVE
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 re-
volver, she would, doubtless, have escaped the blow
with the bone. But she had certainly employed
her revolver too late; the first shot deviated and
lodged in the ceiling; it was the second only that
took effect."
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 be-
fore the door was opened by a man whom I at
once recognised as Daddy Jacques.
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 Mon-
sieur Darzac.
"Friends," said our guide. "Nobody in the
pavilion, Daddy Jacques?"
"I ought not to allow anybody to enter, Mon-
sieur Robert, but of course the order does not ap-
ply to you. These gentlemen of justice have seen
everything there is to be seen, and made enough
drawings, and drawn up enough reports —"
"Excuse me, Monsieur Jacques, one question be-
fore anything else," said Rouletabille.
57


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"What is it, young man? If I can answer it—"
"Did your mistress wear her hair in bands, that
evening? You know what I mean — over her
forehead?"
"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!"
Rouletabille grunted and set to work examining
the door, finding that it fastened itself automatic-
ally. He satisfied hmself 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.
"Ah! This is the window by which the mur-
derer escaped!" said Rouletabille.
"So they keep on saying, monsieur, s«* 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?"
Rouletabille had already opened the window and
was examining the shutters.
"Were these closed at the time of the crime?"
"And fastened with the iron catch inside," said
Daddy Jacques, "and I am quite sure that the
murderer did not get out that way."
"Are there any blood stains?"
"Yes, on the stones outside; but blood of
what?"
58


IN THE HEART OF THE OAK GROVE
"Ah!" said Rouletabille, "there are footmarks
visible on the path — the ground was very moist.
I will look into that presently."
"Nonsense!" interrupted Daddy Jacques; " the
murderer did not go that way."
"Which way did he go, then?"
"How do I know?"
Rouletabille looked at everything, smelled every- 'l
thing. He went down on his knees and rapidly
examined every one of the paving tiles. Daddy
Jacques went on: —
"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
would n'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."
Rouletabille rose.
"When was the last time you washed these
tiles?" he asked, and he fixed on Daddy Jacques
a most searching look.
"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 magis-
trate 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
59


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
new pin, were there any traces of a man's foot-
marks. Since they have been found near this win-
dow 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 Yel-
low 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."
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.
"Well?" I asked him when he got up.
"Oh! nothing very important, — a drop of
blood," he replied, turning towards Daddy Jacques
as he spoke. "While you were washing the labora-
tory and this vestibule, was the vestibule window
open? " he asked.
"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 labora-
tory 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."
"Monsieur or Mademoiselle Stangerson had, no
doubt, shut it?"
CO


IN THE HEART OF THE OAK GROVE
"No doubt."
"You did not ask them?"
"No."
After a close scrutiny of the little lavatory and
of the staircase leading up to the attic, Rouleta-
bille — 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.
My friend, who went about his work methodi-
cally, 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!
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, employed by Pro-
fessor Stangerson to demonstrate the Dissociation
of Matter under the action of solar light — and
other scientific implements.
Along the walls were cabinets, plain or glass-
61


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
fronted, through which were visible microscopes,
special photographic apparatus, and a large quan-
tity of crystals.
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.
"Keep that for us, Monsieur Darzac," he said.
I bent over the piece of scorched paper which
Monsieur Darzac took from the hand of Rouleta-
bille, and read distinctly the only words that re-
mained legible: —
"Presbytery — lost nothing — charm, nor the
gar — its brightness."
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!"
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 brick-
work, through which passed three small chimneys.
"Impossible to get out that way," he said,
jumping back into the laboratory. "Besides, even
62


IN THE HEART OF THE OAK GROVE
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."
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.
"Well, Daddy Jacques," he said, " what are you
looking at?"
"That policeman who is' always going round
and round the lake. Another of those fellows who
think they can see better than anybody else!"
"You don't know Frederic Larsan, Daddy
Jacques, or you would n'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.
"Before they find him, they will have to learn
how they lost him," said Daddy Jacques, stolidly.
At length we reached the door of The Yellow
Room itself.
"There is the door behind which some terrible
scene took place," said Rouletabille, with a solem-
nity which, under any other circumstances, would
have been comical.
83


ROULETABILLE'S EXPEDITION
of the things in the room remain just as they were.
I have only to open the blinds for you to see."
"Wait."
> Rouletabille went back into the laboratory,
closed the shutters of the two windows and the
door of the vestibule. 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.
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.
"That will do! — you may now open the
blinds," said Rouletabille.
"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."
And he pushed open the shutter. The pale day-
light 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
5 65


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 Stang-
erson'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 pre-
sumption 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.
"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 cer-
tainly 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
touchsought the door, found it, and then felt for
the lock —"
"No doubt," interrupted Rouletabille, chuck-
ling, — " only there is no blood, either on the lock
or on the bolt!"
"What does that prove ?" I rej oined with a
good sense of which I was proud; "he might have
60


ROULETABILLE'S EXPEDITION
opened the lock with his left hand, which would
have been quite natural, his right hand being
wounded."
"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!"
"What a queer hand! — Look what a queer
hand it is!" I said.
"It is a very natural hand," said Rouletabille,
"of which the shape has been deformed by its hav-
ing slipped on the wall. The man dried his hand
on the wall. He must be a man about five feet
eight in height."
"How do you come at that?"
"By the height of the marks on the wall."
My friend next occupied himself with the mark
of the bullet in the wall. It was a round hole.
"This ball was fired straight, not from above,
and consequently, not from below."
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.
The first thing he did was to examine minutely
07


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
the overturned furniture. We watched him in
silence.
"Young fellow, you are giving yourself a
great deal of trouble," said Daddy Jacques
ironically.
Rouletabille raised his head and said: —
"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 be-
lieved she did."
Then, with the suppleness of a serpent, he
slipped under the bed. Presently we heard him
ask: —
"At what time, Monsieur Jacques, did Mon-
sieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson arrive at the
laboratory?"
"At six o'clock."
The voice of Rouletabille continued:
"Yes, — he 's been under here, — that's cer-
tain; 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?"
"At once, — we drew it right out of its
place —"
"And between the mattresses?"
"There was only one on the bed, and on that
Mademoiselle was placed; and Monsieur Stanger-
son and the concierge immediately carried it into
the laboratory. Under the mattress there was
nothing but the metal netting, which could not con-
ceal anything or anybody. Remember, monsieur,
that there were four of us and we could n't fail to
68


ROULETABILLE'S EXPEDITION
see everything — the chamber is so small and
scantily furnished, and all was locked behind in
the pavilion."
I ventured on a hypothesis: —
"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 vesti-
bule bear any traces of the footmarks found in the
room. If, in carrying Mademoiselle on the mat-
tress from the laboratory of the chateau, they
rested for a moment, there might have been an
opportunity for the man in it to escape."
"And then?" asked Rouletabille, deliberately
laughing under the bed.
I felt rather vexed and replied: —
"I don't know, — but anything appears pos-
sible "—
"The examining magistrate had the same idea,
monsieur," said Daddy Jacques, "and he care-
fully 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?"
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.


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
My friend alone seemed able to talk intelligently.
He called out from under the bed.
"The mat here has been moved out of place, —■
who did it?"
"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 —"
"There is not," replied Rouletabille. "Is there
a cellar?"
"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."
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
j ournalist.
Thus, on his hands and knees, he made his way
to the four corners of the room, so to speak, sniff-
ing and going round everything — everything
that we could see, which was not much, and every-
thing that we could not see, which must have been
infinite.
The toilette table was a simple table standing
on four legs; there was nothing about it by which
70


ROULETABILLE'S EXPEDITION
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.
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 care-
fully examined the hole made by the second bullet,
he approached the window, and, once more, ex-
amined 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
I"
"Well, — do you believe that the poor dear
young lady was shut up when she was being mur-
dered — when she cried out for help?" wailed
Daddy Jacques.
"Yes," said the young reporter, drying his
forehead, " The Yellow Room was as tightly shut
as an iron safe."
"That," I said, "is why this mystery is the
most surprising I know. Edgar Allan Poe, in
the 'Double Assassination of 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
71


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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."
"True, true," assented Rouletabille as he kept
on drying his forehead, which seemed to be per-
spiring less from his recent bodily exertion than
from his mental agitation. "Indeed, it's a great,
a beautiful, and a very curious mystery."
"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!"
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.
"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."
"How big is the Bete du bon Dieu?"
"Nearly as big as a small retriever, — a mons-
ter, 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. "Be-
72


ROULETABILLE'S EXPEDITION
sides, we should have seen her as well as we would
have seen a man —"
"Evidently," I said. "Before we had seen this
Yellow Room, I had also asked myself whether the
cat of Mother Angenoux —"
"You also!" cried Rouletabille.
"Didn't you?" I asked.
"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 handker-
chief, found here, Daddy Jacques?"
"Of course, the magistrate has taken them,"
the old man answered, hesitatingly.
"I have n't seen either the handkerchief or the
cap, yet I can tell you how they are made," the
reporter said to him gravely.
"Oh, you are very clever," said Daddy Jacques,
coughing and embarrassed.
"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."
"You are a wizard!" said Daddy Jacques, try-
ing to laugh and not quite succeeding. "How do
you know that the handkerchief is blue with red
stripes?"
"Because, if it had not been blue with red
stripes, it would not have been found at all."
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
73


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
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 work-
ing in The Yellow Room?"
"No," replied Robert Darzac, who, since Rou-
letabille 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 es-
cape from it in quite a natural way, and that he
will, this evening, explain how he did it."
As he listened to what Monsieur Darzac had to
say, Rouletabille turned pale.
"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."
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.
I managed to reach him on the threshold of the
pavilion.
"Calm yourself, my dear fellow," I said.
"Are n't you satisfied?"
"Yes," he confessed to me, with a deep sigh.
74


ROULETABILLE'S EXPEDITION
"I am quite satisfied. I have discovered many
things."
"Moral or material?"
"Several moral, — one material. This, for
example."
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.
tli


*'
CHAPTER viii The Examining Magistrate Questions
Mademoiselle Stangerson
two minutes later, as Rouletabille was bending
over the footprints discovered in the park,
under the window of the vestibule, a man, evi-
dently a servant at the chateau, came towards
us rapidly and called out to Monsieur Darzac then
coming out of the pavilion: ■—
"Monsieur Robert, the magistrate, you know,
is questioning Mademoiselle."
Monsieur Darzac uttered a muttered excuse to
us and set off running towards the chateau, the
man running after him.
"If the corpse can speak," I said, " it would be
interesting to be there."
"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.
This is what passed in the chamber of the victim
while we were waiting below.
The family doctor, finding that Mademoiselle
Stangerson was much better, but fearing a relapse
which would no longer permit of her being ques-
tioned, had thought it his duty to inform the
76


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
another walk for half an hour, and then returned
to the laboratory. There we found my chamber-
maid, 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 pavil-
ion, 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.
"Q. Before leaving the pavilion at five o'clock,
did you go into your chamber?
"A. No, monsieur, my father went into it,
at my request to bring me my hat.
"Q. And he found nothing suspicious there?
"A. Evidently no, monsieur.
"Q. It is, then, almost certain that the mur-
derer was not yet concealed under the bed. When
you went out, was the door of the room locked?
"A. No, there was no reason for locking it.
"Q. You were absent from the pavilion some
length of time, Monsieur Stangerson and you?
"A. About an hour.
"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 vesti-
bule, but none has been found going towards it.
Did you notice whether the vestibule window was
open when you went out?
"A. I don't remember.
"Monsieur Stangerson. It was closed.
"Q. And when you returned?
"Mademoiselle Stangerson. I did not notice.
"M. Stangerson. It was still closed. I remem-
78


THE EXAMINING MAGISTRATE
ber remarking aloud: ' Daddy Jacques must surely
have opened it while we were away.'
"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?
"Mademoiselle Stangerson. Yes, monsieur.
"Q. And you did not leave the laboratory from
that hour up to the moment when you entered
your chamber?
"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.
"Q. Did you dine in the laboratory?
"A. For that reason.
"Q. Are you accustomed to dine in the
laboratory?
"A. We rarely dine there.
"Q. Could the murderer have known that you
would dine there that evening?
"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 lab-
oratory. He left me, to execute the errand and I
rejoined my daughter, who was already at work.
79


THE EXAMINING MAGISTRATE
eral 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.
"Q. How many?
"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 gen-
erally 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 ' Dissocia-
tion 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 de-
layed 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 any-
thing 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.
"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 pre-
cautions are very surprising.
6 81


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"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 —' Mur-
der !' — It still rings in my ears.
"Q. You uttereed 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 over my
head a sort of mace. But I had fired. He imme-
diately 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.
82


THE EXAMINING MAGISTRATE
"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."
Here the interrogation of Mademoiselle Stang-
erson concluded.
Rouletabille waited patiently for Monsieur Rob-
ert Darzac, who soon appeared.
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 ex-
actitude, aided by an excellent memory. His docil-
ity still surprised me. Thanks to hasty pencil-
notes, he was able to reproduce, almost textually,
the questions and the answers given.
It looked as if Monsieur Darzac were being em-
ployed 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.
The fact of the closed window struck the re-
porter as it had struck the magistrate. Rouleta-
bille asked Darzac to repeat once more Made-
moiselle Stangerson's account of how she and her
father had spent their time on the day of the trag-
edy, 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
83


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
When Monsieur Darzac had finished, I said:
"The examination has not advanced the problem
much."
"It has put it back," said Monsieur Darzac.
"It has thrown light upon it," said Rouleta-
bille, thoughtfully.
84


CHAPTER IX
Reporter and Detective
the three of us went back towards the pavilion.
At some distance from the building the re-
porter made us stop and, pointing to a small clump
of trees to the right of us, said: —
"That's where the murderer came from to get
into the pavilion."
As there were other patches of trees of the same
sort between the great oaks, I asked why the mur-
derer 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.
"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 did n'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 of-
fered the murderer a sufficient hiding-place until it
was time for him to make his way to the pavilion.
85


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 ex-
amine 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."
"After all it is very possible," I said.
"After all what? After all what?" cried Rou-
letabille.
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.
"If I did not reason as I do in regard to
this gravel," he went on, "I should have to as-
sume a balloon! — My dear fellow, the science
of the aerostation of dirigible balloons is not yet
developed enough for me to consider it and sup-
pose that a murderer would drop from the clouds!
So don't say a thing is possible, when it could not
86


REPORTER AND DETECTIVE
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 re-
turned 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?"
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.
"Besides," he added, " at five o'clock Monsieur
Stangerson went into the room to fetch his
daughter's hat."
"There is that also," said Rouletabille.
"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 nec-
essarily draw the attention of those who had left
it open."
"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 ac-
count of the three oaks that are growing at that
spot."
"What do you mean by that? " asked Monsieur
Darzac, who had followed us and listened with
87


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
almost breathless attention to all that Rouletabille
had said.
"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."
"And what is your hypothesis?"
"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."
"Have you, at least, some idea as to who the
murderer is?"
"No, monsieur, I don't know who the murderer
is; but don't be afraid, Monsieur Robert Darzac
— I shall know."
I could not but observe that Monsieur Darzac
was deeply moved; and I suspected that Rouleta-
bille'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 help-
ing the reporter to find him? My young friend
seemed to have received the same impression, for
he said, bluntly: —
"Monsieur Darzac don't you want me to find
out who the murderer was?"
"Oh! — I should like to kill him with my own
hand!" cried Mademoiselle Stangerson's fiance,
with a vehemence that amazed me.
"I believe you," said Rouletabille gravely; " but
you have not answered my question."
We were passing by the thicket, of which the
young reporter had spoken to us a minute before.
8S


REPORTER AND DETECTIVE
I entered it and pointed out evident traces of a
man who had been hidden there. Rouletabille, once
more, was right.
"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."
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 foot-
mark behind the thicket. "Aha!" he said, rising.
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.
"He went along the wall to the hedge and ■dr y
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."
"How do you know he went to the lake?"
"Because Frederic Larsan has not quitted the
borders of it since this morning. There must be
some important marks there."
A few minutes later we reached the lake.
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 ap-
proaching, but we probably interested him very
little, for he took hardly any notice of us and con-
tinued to be stirring with his cane something which
we could not see.
"Look!" said Rouletabille, " here again are the
89


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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."
"What makes you think that?" I asked, " since
these footmarks are not continued on the path?"
"What makes me think that? — Why these foot-
prints, which I expected to find!" he cried, point-
ing to the sharply outlined imprint of a neat
boot. "See!" — and he called to Frederic Larsan.
"Monsieur Fred, these neat footprints seem
to have been made since the discovery of the crime."
"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."
"And the man had a bicycle!" cried the
reporter.
Here, after looking at the marks of the bicycle,
which followed, going and coming, the neat foot-
prints, I thought I might intervene.
"The bicycle explains the disappearance of the
murderer's big footprints," I said. "The mur-
derer, 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."
"No, no!" replied Rouletabille with a strange
smile. "I have expected to find these footmarks
from the very beginning. These are not the foot-
marks of the murderer!"
"Then there were two?"
90


REPORTER AND DETECTIVE
"No — there was but one, and he had no
accomplice."
"Very good! — Very good!" cried Frederic
Larsan.
"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."
"Bravo! — bravo !" cried Fred again, and com-
ing suddenly towards us and, planting himself in
front of Monsieur Robert Darzac, he said to
him: —
"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?"
"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."
"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
91


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
conclusion. Have you any idea, as to how the
murderer got away from The Yellow Room?"
"Yes," said my young friend; "I have an idea."
"So have I," said Fred, "and it must be the
same as yours. There are no two ways of reason-
ing in this affair. I am waiting for the arrival of
my chief before offering any explanation to the
examining magistrate."
"Ah! Is the Chief of the Surete coming?"
"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."
"I shall be present," said Rouletabille con-
fidently.
"Really — you are an extraordinary fellow —
for your age!" replied the detective in a tone not
wholly free from irony. "You 'd make a wonder-
ful detective — if you had a little more method —
if you did n'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 hand-
kerchief 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."
"Bah!" cried Rouletabille, " the murderer was
wounded in the hand by Mademoiselle Stanger-
son's revolver!"
"Ah! — a simply instinctive observation ^take care! — You are becoming too strictly logical,
92


REPORTER AND DETECTIVE
Monsieur Rouletabille; logic will upset you if you
use it indiscriminatively. 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."
"I am sure of it," cried Rouletabille.
Fred, imperturbable, interrupted him: —
"Defective observation — defective observa-
tion ! — the examination of the handkerchief, the
numberless little round scarlet stains, the im-
pression 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!"
The great Fred spoke quite seriously. How-
ever, I could not refrain from uttering an ex-
clamation.
The reporter looked gravely at Fred, who
looked gravely at him. And Fred immediately
concluded: —
"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."
Rouletabille seemed to be thinking deeply. After
a moment he said: —
"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.
93


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 noth-
ing. 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, Mon-
sieur Fred, it will trip you up!"
And laughing a little, in a slightly bantering
tone, his hands in his pockets, Rouletabille fixed
his cunning eyes on the great Fred.
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.
Rouletabille watched his retreat, and then turned
toward us, his face joyous and triumphant.
"I shall beat him!" he cried. "I shall beat
the great Fred, clever as he is; I shall beat them
all!"
And he danced a double shuffle. Suddenly he
stopped. My eyes followed his gaze; they were
fixed on Monsieur Robert Darzac, who was look-
ing anxiously at the impression left by his feet
side by side with the elegant footmarks. There
was not a particle of difference between them!
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
94


REPORTER AND DETECTIVE
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.
"The deuce!" exclaimed Rouletabille.
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 boot-
marks that were on the ground. Then he fitted
the new paper pattern with the one he had pre-
viously made — the two were exactly alike. Ris-
ing, 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.


CHAPTER X
"We Shall Have to Eat Red Meat — Now"
THE Donjon Inn was of no imposing appear-
ance; but I like these buildings with their
rafters blackened with age and the smoke of their
hearths — these inns of the coaching-days, crum-
bling 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.
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.
When we were close to him, he deigned to see
us and asked us, in a tone anything but engaging,
t whether we wanted anything. He was, no doubt,
1 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 break-
fast, he assured us that he had no provisions,
regarding us, as he said this, with a look that
was unmistakably suspicious.


WE SHALL HAVE TO EAT RED MEAT
"You may take us in," Rouletabille said to him,
"we are not policemen."
"I 'm not afraid of the police — I 'm not afraid
of anyone!" replied the man.
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,
"*0ome on," he said, "it is very comfortable
here,'' A good fire was blazing in the chimney, and we
held our hands to the warmth it sent out; it was
a mo rning in which the approach of winter was un-
mistakable. The room was a tolerably large one,
furnished with two heavy tables, some stools, a
center 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.
"That's a fine fire for roasting a chicken,"
said Rouletabille.
"We have no chicken — not even a wretched
rabbit," said the landlord.
"I know," said my friend slowly; "I know —
We shall have to eat red meat — now."
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 him-
self at our orders as obediently as Monsieur
7 97


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
Robert Darzac had done, when he heard Rouleta-
bille'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 pro-
posed 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.
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 com-
mission was quickly executed by a strongly-built
young woman with beautiful blonde hair and
large, handsome eyes, who regarded us with
curiosity.
The innkeeper said to her roughly: —
"Get out! — and if the Green Man comes, don't
let me see him."
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 ome-
lette 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.
Suddenly I heard him mutter, 98


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
asked the reporter, pouring his omelette into the
frying-pan.
"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 hecome a servant. A keeper
is as much a servant as any other, is n't he? Upon
my word, one would say that he is the master of
the Glandier, and that all the land and woods be-
long to him. He 'll not let a poor creature eat
a morsel of bread on the grass — his grass!"
"Does he often come here?"
"Too often. But I 've made him understand
that his face does n't please me, and, for a month
past, he has n't been here. The Donj on Inn has
never existed for him! — he has n't had time! —
been too much engaged in paying court to the land-
lady of the Three Lilies at Saint-Michel. A bad
fellow ! — There is n't an honest man who can bear
him. Why, the concierges of the chateau would
turn their eyes away from a picture of him!"
"The concierges of the chateau are honest
people, then?"
"Yes, they are, as true as my name 's Mathieu,
monsieur. I believe them to be honest."
"Yet they 've been arrested?"
"What does that prove? — But I don't want
to mix myself up in other people's affairs."
"And what do you think of the murder?"
"Of the murder of poor Mademoiselle Stanger-
son ? — 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."
100


WE SHALL HAVE TO EAT RED MEAT
"Not even mine?" insisted Rouletabille.
The innkeeper looked at him sideways and said
gruffly:
"Not even yours."
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, ap-
peared on the threshold.
"Ah! — there you are, Mother Angenoux! —
It's long since we saw you last," said our host.
"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 —?"
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.
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.
"A glass of cider, Daddy Mathieu," he said.
As the Green Man entered, Daddy Mathieu had
started violently; but visibly mastering himself he
said: —
"I 've no more cider; I served the last bottles
to these gentlemen."
"Then give me a glass of white wine," said the
Green Man, without showing the least surprise.
"I 've no more white wine — no more any-
thing," said Daddy Mathieu, surlily.
101


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"How is Madame Mathieu?"
"Quite well, thank you."
So the young woman with the large, tender eyes,
whom we had just seen, was the wife of this re-
pugnant and brutal rustic, whose jealousy seemed
to emphasise his physical ugliness.
Slamming the door behind him, the innkeeper
left the room. Mother Angenoux was still stand-
ing, leaning on her stick, the cat at her feet.
"You 've been ill, Mother Angenoux? — Is that
why we have not seen you for the last week?"
asked the Green Man.
"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!"
"Did she not leave you?"
"Neither by day nor by night."
"Are you sure of that?"
"As I am of Paradise."
"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?"
Mother Angenoux planted herself in front of
the forest-keeper and struck the floor with her
stick.
"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
102


WE SHALL HAVE TO EAT RED MEAT
myself when I heard that, as if I had heard the
devil."
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: —
"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."
He held out a packet to the old woman, who
took it eagerly and went out by the door, closely
followed by her cat.
"Then you won't serve me?" asked the Green
Man.
Daddy Mathieu's face was placid and no longer
retained its expression of hatred.
"I 've nothing for you — nothing for you.
Take yourself off."
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:
"I don't know who you are who tell me 'We
shall have to eat red meat — now'; but if it
103


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
will interest you to know it — that man is the
murderer!"
With which words Daddy Mathieu immediately
left us. Rouletabille returned towards the fire-
place and said:
"Now we 'll grill our steak. How do you like
the cider? — It's a little tart, but I like it."
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.
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 nar-
row 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 con-
cealing himself in the little clump of trees.
"You don't think, then, that the keeper knows
anything of it?" I asked.
"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
did n't take you to breakfast at the Donj on Inn
for the sake of the Green Man."
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
104


WE SHALL HAVE TO EAT RED MEAT
left open, and returned ten minutes later. He
said only, "Ah!" — a word which, in his mouth,
signified many things.
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 gentle-
man who descended from it.
"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."
The carriage of the Chief of the Surete was fol-
lowed 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 even-
ing, all the information he could give that would
not interfere with the judicial inquiry.
105


CHAPTER XI
In Which Frederic Larsan Explains How
the Murderer Was Able to Get out
of The Yellow Room
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 interest-
ing 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 Mon-
sieur Maleine, the Registrar, who, like the examin-
ing 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 en-
titled: "My Examinations." It was given to me
by the Registrar himself, some time after the as-
tonishing denouement to this case, and is unique
in judicial chronicles.
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.
106


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
The Registrar's Narrative
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 Mar-
quet 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 non-existence of
any sort of opening. The floor and the ceiling
were thoroughly sounded. We found nothing.
There was nothing to be found. Monsieur de Mar-
quet appeared to be delighted and never ceased
repeating:
\ "What a case! What a case! We shall never
I know, you 'll see, how the murderer was able to get
out of this room!"
Then suddenly, with a radiant face, he called to
the officer in charge of the gendarmes.
"Go to the chateau," he said, "and request
Monsieur Stangerson and Monsieur Robert Dar-
zac to come to me in the laboratory, also Daddy
Jacques; and let your men bring here the two
concierges."
Five minutes later all were assembled in the
laboratory. The Chief of the Surete, who had ar-
rived 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: —
107


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
by his countenance, which seemed as pure as
that of a child — the dreamy gaze with the sub-
lime and mystical expression of the inventor and
thinker.
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 re-
counting to us the most monstrous and most mys-
terious crime I have heard of in my career? Who
would have thought that I should be, that after-
noon, listening to the despairing father vainly try-
ing 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 dan-
gerous chances to life and death which meet us in
the busy cities?
"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."
Monsieur Stangerson rose and, standing at a
certain distance from the door of The Yellow
109


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
Room, said, in an even voice and without the least
trace of emphasis — a voice which I can only de-
scribe as a dead voice: —
"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 ap-
paratus. 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 good-
night. 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."
"And the desk? " I asked, obeying, in thus mix-
ing 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?"
Daddy Jacques answered.
"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."
I followed up my reasoning, to which, however,
I attached but little importance, regarding it as
only a weak hypothesis, with another question.
"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?"
"You are forgetting," interrupted Monsieur
Stangerson wearily, " that my daughter had locked
and bolted her door, that the door had remained
110


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
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 while 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 endeavours to get into the room
where the tragedy was taking place."
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.
"If the lower panel of the door," I said, " could
be removed without the whole door being neces-
sarily 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."
"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."
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 inno-
cent, I could not understand how they could be-
have like that in the face of misfortune. A digni-
111


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
fied bearing at such times is better than tears and
groans, which, most often, are feigned.
"Now then, enough of that snivelling," 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."
"We were coming to help!" they whined.
"If we could only lay hands on the murderer,
he 'd never taste bread again !" the woman gurgled
between her sobs.
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.
"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."
"Mon Dieu! Monsieur — it was the second
shot we heard. We were asleep when the first shot
was fired."
"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?"
"Yes," replied the Professor, "there were two
shots, one dull, and the other sharp and ringing."
"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
112


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
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 con-
cerned," 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, screen-
ing 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 conclu-
sion I have arrived at. If anyone here has any
other idea, let him state it."
Monsieur Stangerson intervened: —
"What you say was impossible. I do not be-
lieve 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 sec that there was nobody in
it but my daughter lying on the floor."
8 113


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"What do you think, Monsieur Darzac? " asked
the magistrate.
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: —
"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 con-
tinued, in the even, intelligent tone indicative of a
strong character, "I understand that Mademoi-
selle was shortly to have been married?"
The professor looked sadly at Monsieur Robert
Darzac.
"With my friend here, whom I should have been
happy to call my son — with Monsieur Robert
Darzac."
"Mademoiselle Stangerson is much better and is
rapidly recovering from her wounds. The mar-
riage is simply delayed, is it not, Monsieur?" in-
sisted the Chief of the Surete.
"I hope so."
"What! Is there any doubt about that?"
Monsieur Stangerson did not answer. Monsieur
Robert Darzac seemed agitated. I saw that his
hand trembled as it fingered his watch-chain. Mon- t
sieur Dax coughed, as did Monsieur de Marquet.
Both were evidently embarrassed.
"You understand, Monsieur Stangerson," he
said, " that in an affair so perplexing as this, we
cannot neglect anything; we must know all, even
114


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
the smallest and seemingly most futile thing con-
cerning 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?"
Monsieur Stangerson made a visible effort to re-
cover himself.
"Yes, Monsieur," he said at length, "You are
right. It will be best that you should know some-
thing which, if I concealed it, might appear to be
of importance; Monsieur Darzac agrees with me
in this."
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.
"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 be-
lieved 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."
115


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
A dead silence followed Monsieur Stangerson's
words. It was a moment fraught with suspense.
"Did Mademoiselle give you any explanation,
— did she tell you what her motive was?" asked
Monsieur Dax.
"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 rela-
tions between ourselves and Monsieur Darzac be-
come nearer to us, but only on the understanding
that there would be no more talk of marriage."
"That is very strange!" muttered Monsieur
Dax.
"Strange!" repeated Monsieur de Marquet.
"You 'll certainly not find the motive there,
Monsieur Dax," Monsieur Stangerson said with a
cold smile.
"In any case, the motive was not theft!" said the
Chief impatiently.
"Oh! we are quite convinced of that!" cried the
examining magistrate.
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 magis-
trate. Monsieur de Marquet read it and uttered
a half angry exclamation:
"This is really too much!" he cried.
"What is it? " asked the Chief.
"It's the card of a young reporter engaged on
the ' Epoque,' a Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille. It
116


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
*
has these words written on it: " One of the motives
of the crime was robbery."
The Chief smiled.
"Ah! — young Rouletabille — I 've heard of
him — he is considered rather clever. Let him
come in."
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 every-
thing is permissible and they respect nothing.
Grant them the least favour, allow them even to
approach you, and you never can tell what annoy-
ance 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 him-
self 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.
Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille entered the lab-
oratory, bowed to us, and waited for Monsieur de
Marquet to ask him to explain his presence.
117


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"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?"
"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."
"Then, what is the meaning of this card?"
"It means that robbery was one of the motives
for the crime."
"What leads you to think that?"
"If you will be good enough to accompany me,
I will show you."
The young man asked us to follow him into the
vestibule, and we did. He led us towards the lava-
tory 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 pen-
etrated was sufficient to light it perfectly. Mon-
sieur de Marquet and Monsieur Joseph Rouleta-
bille knelt down on the ^threshold, and the young
man pointed to a spot on the pavement.
"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 char-
coal dust that covers the path along which you
must pass through the forest, in order to get di-
rectly from Epinay to the Glandier. You know
there is a little village of charcoal-burners at that
place, who make large quantities of charcoal.
118


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
What the murderer did was to come here at mid-
day, when there was nobody at the pavilion, and
attempt his robbery."
"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,—
"Was this?" interrupted Monsieur de Marquet,
still on his knees.
"Evidently," said Rouletabille.
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.
"You have been here, then, Monsieur Rouleta-
bille? I thought I had given orders to Daddy
Jacques, who was left in charge of the pavilion,
not to allow anybody to enter."
"Don't scold Daddy Jacques, I came here with
Monsieur Robert Darzac."
"Ah! — Indeed!" exclaimed Monsieur de Mar-
quet, disagreeably, casting a side-glance at Mon-
sieur Darzac, who remained perfectly silent.
"When I saw the mark of the parcel by the side
of the footprints, I had no doubt as to the rob-
bery," 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
119


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 ac-
counts 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 rob-
bery had been accomplished. The man then re-
turned 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. Frag-
ments of straw also, recently torn, bear witness to
the murderer's movements under the bed."
"Yes, yes, — we know all about that," said
Monsieur de Marquet.
"The robber had another motive for returning
to hide under the bed," continued the astonishing
boy-j ournalist. "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 oppor-
120


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
tunity to get away, if his purpose had been only
flight. — No! No! — he had to be in The Yellow
Room."
Here the Chief intervened. i
"That's not at all bad, young man. I compli-
ment you. If we do not know yet how the mur-
derer succeeded in getting away, we can at any
rate see how he came in and committed the robbery.
But what did he steal?"
"Something very valuable," replied the young
reporter.
At that moment we heard a cry from the lab-
oratory. .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 in-
stant he sank into the large armchair that was
placed before the desk and groaned, the tears roll-
ing 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!"
"She will live!" said Monsieur Darzac, in a
voice strangely touching.
"And we will find the stolen articles," said Mon-
sieur Dax. "But what was in the cabinet?"
"Twenty years of my life," replied the illustri-
ous professor sadly, " or rather of our lives — the
lives of myself and my daughter! Yes, our most
precious documents, the records of our secret ex-
periments and our labours of twenty years were in
121


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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."
And the great scientist wept like a child.
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 repul-
sion which his strange demeanour and his inex-
plicable anxiety had inspired me.
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 lava-
tory, and the empty precious cabinet in the lab-
oratory. The first thing that had struck him, he
said, was the unusual form of that piece of fur-
niture. 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
122


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
murderer entered the pavilion he already possessed
the brass-headed key."
"That is impossible," said Monsieur Stanger-
son in a low voice.
"It is quite possible, Monsieur, as this proves."
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 com-
mitted on the night between the 24th and 25th),
and showing us an advertisement, he read: —
"' 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 busi-
ness, as in yours, Monsieur, one should always read
the 'personals.' They are often the keys to in-
trigues, that are not always brass-headed, but which
are none the less interesting. This advertisement
interested me specially; the woman of the key sur-
rounded 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.
124


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
Four days later, when the evening paper ap-
peared 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 re-
plied that he had not. I insisted, begged and en-
treated 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 gen-
tleman 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."
Rouletabille paused. We all remained silent.
Each drew his own conclusions from the strange
story of the poste restante letter. It seemed, in-
deed, that we now had a thread by means of which
we should be able to follow up this extraordinary
mystery.
"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
125


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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."
"Where was that, and when? " asked the Chief
of the Surete.
"Oh! many years ago, in America, in Philadel-
phia. 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 per-
son 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."
"Most interesting!" remarked Monsieur Dax.
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.
126


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
She had gone to the poste restante and, on the
28rd of October, had received a letter which, she
affirmed, contained nothing but a vulgar pleas-
antry, which she had immediately burned.
To return to our examination, or rather to our
conversation. I must state that the Chief of the
Surcte, 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 Dar-
zac 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.
This conversation between magistrates, accused,
victim, witnesses and journalist, was coming to a
close when quite a theatrical sensation — an in-
cident of a kind displeasing to Monsieur de Mar-
quet — was produced. The officer of the gen-
darmes 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 pave-
ment of the laboratory.
"Here," he said, "are the boots worn by the
murderer. Do you recognise them, Daddy
Jacques?"
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
127


HOW THE MURDERER GOT OUT
and persons of this pavilion could choose his own
time for entering The Yellow Room."
"He could not have entered it if anybody
had been in the laboratory," said Monsieur de
Marquet.
"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 advan-
tage of that moment to slip into The Yellow
Room, after having taken off his boots in the
lavatory?"
"It is very improbable," said Monsieur Stang-
erson.
"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."
For a moment Frederic Larsan paused, — a
moment that appeared to us a very long time.
The eagerness with which we awaited what he wag
going to tell us may be imagined.
"I have not been in The Yellow Room," he con-
tinued, "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
9 129


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 mo-
ment 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.
"Here we must admit that Monsieur Stangerson
had powerful reasons for not arresting, or not
causing the arrest of the murderer, since he al-
lowed him to reach the window in the vestibule
and closed it after him! — That done, Mademoi-
selle Stangerson, though horribly wounded, had
still strength enough, and no doubt in obedience
to the entreaties of her father, to refasten the
130


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
Monsieur de Marquet announced that the con-
versation was at an end, and as we were about to
leave the laboratory, Joseph Rouletabille ap-
proached Monsieur Stangerson, took him by the
hand with the greatest respect, and I heard him
say: —
"I believe you, Monsieur."
I here close the citation which I have thought it
my duty to make from Monsieur Maleine's narra-
tive. I need not tell the reader that all that passed
in the laboratory was immediately and faithfully
reported to me by Rouletabille.
1S2


CHAPTER XII
Frederic Larsan's Cane
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 advan-
tage of the to me inexplicable hospitality offered
him by Monsieur Robert Darzac, to whom Mon-
sieur 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: —
"Frederic is really very clever and has not be-
lied 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
133


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 Yel-
low 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 work-
ing on wrong lines, and I — I, must fight him
with nothing!"
I was surprised at the profoundly grave accent
with which my young friend pronounced the last
words.
He repeated:
"Yes — terrible! — terrible! For it is fighting
with nothing, when you have only an idea to fight
with."
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 Stanger-
son's chamber. The sounds which had attracted
our attention ceased, then were renewed for a mo-
ment, 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: —
"If we only knew what was being said in that
chamber, my inquiry would soon be finished."
134


FREDERIC LARSAN'S CANE
He looked about him. The darkness of the
evening enveloped us; we could not see much be-
yond the narrow path bordered by trees, which ran
behind the chateau. The sobs had ceased.
"If we can't hear we may at least try to see,"
said Rouletabille.
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, enj oining
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: —
"After you!"
"After you, pray!"
Somebody was overhead, speaking, — exchang-
ing 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.
"Good evening, Monsieur Sainclair!"
135


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 Rou-
letabille in favour of Monsieur Robert Darzac;
while, to Larsan, it showed nothing but consumemate hypocrisy, acted with finished art by Made-
moiselle Stangerson's fiance.
As we reached the park gate, Larsan stopped
us.
"My cane!" he cried. "I left it near the
tree."
He left us, saying he would rejoin us presently.
"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 is n'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
136


FREDERIC LARSAN'S CANE
which I was perhaps wrong not to attach some
importance."
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: —
"Frederic Larsan arrived at the Glandier be-
fore 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?"
As I had to wait twenty minutes for the train
at Epinay, we entered a cabaret. Almost imme-
diately the door opened and Frederic Larsan made
his appearance, brandishing his famous cane.
"I found it!" he said laughingly.
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 my-
self have attached any importance to the circum-
stance, 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
137


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
I turned my eyes again on Rouletabille.
"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!"
"It is a present," replied the detective.
"Recent?" insisted Rouletabille.
"No, it was given to me in London."
"Ah, yes, I remember — you have just come
from London. May I look at it?"
"Oh! —certainly!"
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, re-
turned it to Larsan, with a bantering expression
on his face, saying: —
"You were given a French cane in London!"
"Possibly," said Fred, imperturbably.
"Read the mark there, in tiny letters: Cassette,
6a, Opera."
"Cannot English people buy canes in Paris?"
When Rouletabille had seen me into the train,
he said: —
"You 'll remember the address?"
"Yes, — Cassette, 6a, Opera. Rely on me;
you shall have word to-morrow morning."
That evening, on reaching Paris, I saw Mon-
138


FREDERIC LARSAN'S CANE
sieur Cassette, dealer in walking-sticks and um-
brellas, and wrote to my friend: —
"A man unmistakably answering to the descrip-
tion 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."
139


CHAPTER Xin
"The Presbytery Has Lost Nothing of is
Charm, nor the Garden its Brightness"
A week after the occurrence of the events I
have just recounted — on the 2nd of Novem-
ber, 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."
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 profes-
sional 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 journal-
istic 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
140


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
Mademoiselle Stangerson — the old stains be-
longed to other crimes, probably dating years
back.
It may be easily imagined that the crime en-
gaged 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 re-
join him at the Glandier, the despatch had not
contained the words, "Bring revolvers."
That puzzled me greatly. Rouletabille tele-
graphing for revolvers meant that there might
be occasion to use them. Now, I cdnfess 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 Or-
leans 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.
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 Glan-
dier. 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 ges-
ture and threw his arms about me, inquiring
warmly as to the state of my health.
When we were in the little sitting-room of
141


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
which I have spoken, Rouletabille made me sit
down.
"It's going badly," he said.
"What's going badly?" I asked.
"Everything."
He came nearer to me and whispered:
"Frederic Larsan is working with might and
main against Darzac."
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: —
"What about that cane?"
"It is still in the hands of Frederic Larsan.
He never lets go of it."
"But does n't it prove the alibi for Monsieur
Darzac?"
"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; Mon-
sieur Darzac has such strange fits of silence that
one does not know exactly what to think of what
he says."
"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."
"The time does n't worry Larsan. He is not
obliged to adopt my theory which assumes that the
murderer got into The Yellow Room between five
and N six o'clock. But there 's nothing to prevent
him assuming that the murderer got in between
142


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
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 pro-
fessor'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? —
"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 the cane, which
remains incomprehensible to me, all the more so
as Larsan does not in the least hesitate to let Dar-
zac see him with it! — I understand many things
in Larsan's theory, but I can't make anything of
that cane."
"Is he still at the chateau?"
143


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"Yes; he hardly ever quits it! — He sleeps
there, as I do, at the request of Monsieur Stanger-
son, who has done for him what Monsieur Robert
Darzac has done for me. In spite of the accusa-
tion 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."
"But you are convinced of Darzac's inno-
cence?"
"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."
Here Rouletabille interrupted himself and asked
me if I had brought the revolvers. I showed
him them. Having examined both, he pro-
nounced them excellent, and handed them back to
me.
"Shall we have any use for them?" I asked.
"No doubt; this evening. We shall pass the
night here — if that won't tire you?"
"On the contrary," I said with an expression
that made Rouletabille laugh.
"No, no," he said, "this is no time for laugh-
ing. You remember the phrase which was the
'Open sesame' of this chateau full of mystery?"
"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."
Ui


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
"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 impor-
tant. I am now going to tell you about that curi-
ous 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 pre-
cedes 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.
"Do you ask me what is the 'perfume of the
lady in black'? It must suffice 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 per-
fume 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.
"They met Monsieur Robert Darzac, whom I
knew by sight. Professor Stangerson, accosted
by Mr. Arthur William Rance, one of the Ameri-
10 145


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
can 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 gar-
den 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 con-
tinued 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.
"Neither of them saw me, and I distinctly heard
Mademoiselle Stangerson repeat, as she was re-
folding the paper: ' The presbytery has lost noth-
ing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness!'
— It was said in a tone at once mocking and des-
pairing, and was followed by a burst of such nerv-
ous 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 com-
mit a crime, then, to win you?' He was in an ex-
traordinarily 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
148


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
of his shoulders, that he was crying. Then they
went away.
"When I returned to the great gallery," con-
tinued 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, glow-
ing 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 re-
mained 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 return-
ing 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 Stanger-
son and his daughter. He drank a great deal of
champagne, and when I left him he was very nearly
drunk.
"Such were my experiences on that evening, and
I leave you to imagine what effect the news of the
attempted murder of Mademoiselle Stangerson pro-
duced on me, — with what force those words pro-
nounced by Monsieur Robert Darzac, 'Must I
commit a crime, then, to win you?' recurred to
me. It was not this phrase, however, that I re-
peated to him, when we met here at Glandier. The
147


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
"When we were alone together, I told him how
I had chanced to overhear a part of his conversa-
tion 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 re-
member, in the ashes of the laboratory, the frag-
ment of paper dated October the 28rd. The letter
had been written and withdrawn from the Post
Office on the same day.
"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
148


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
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 consid-
erable 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 im-
possible because of the writer of that letter; be-
cause 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, mon-
sieur, 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.
"' 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
149


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM"
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.'"
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 instal himself on the
scene of the crime. My curiosity could not fail
to be excited by all I had heard. I asked Rouleta-
bille 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?
"Everything seems to be pointing against him,"
replied my friend, "and the situation is becoming
exceedingly grave. Monsieur Darzac appears not
150


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
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!"
"Impossible!" I cried, "What could be more
i mysterious than that?"
"Let us first go back to Monsieur Robert Dar-
zac," 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 Made-
moiselle 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 Stanger-
sons were to cease? All who are interested in the
matter affirm that those relations were to continue
unchanged.
"Frederic Larsan, however, believes that all in-
tercourse was at an end. From the day when Mon-
sieur Darzac accompanied Mademoiselle Stanger-
son to the Grands Magasins de la Louvre until the
day after the crime, he had not been at the Glan-
dier. 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 an-
other; but they may have written to each other.
151


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
"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 de-
scription 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 be-
lieve — 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.
"To me it appears clear that somebody, strongly
resembling him, stole Mademoiselle Stangerson's
reticule and in that letter, had demanded of her
152


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
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 murdered 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 Lar-
san 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 Octo-
ber. 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.
"I have announced in the leading j ournals
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 ad-
dressed 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
153


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
cab. Who, I keep asking myself night and day, is
the man who so strongly resembles Monsieur Rob-
ert Darzac, and who is also known to have bought
the cane which has fallen into Larsan's hands.
"The most serious fact is that Monsieur Darzac
was, at the very same time that his double pre-
sented himself at the Post Office, down for a lec-
ture 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 employed
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, ob-
tains 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.
"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 per-
mitted 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."
"Perhaps he is right," I cried, interrupting
Rouletabille. "Are you sure that Monsieur Dar-
154


THE PRESBYTERY HAS LOST NOTHING
zac is innocent? — It seems to me that these are
extraordinary coincidences —"
"Coincidences," replied my friend, "are the
worst enemies to truth."
"What does the examining magistrate think now
of the matter?"
"Monsieur de Marquet hesitates to accuse Mon-
sieur 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 recog-
nised 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 extraordi-
narily strange incident occurred."
155


CHAPTER XIV
"I Expect the Assassin this Evening"
"I MUST take you," said Rouletabille, "so as
J. 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 Mad-
emoiselle 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."
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
156


I EXPECT THE ASSASSIN THIS EVENING
to give to the desolate place, now filled with its
awful mystery, an aspect the most funereal. 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 look-
ing just as I had formerly seen him through the
window of the Donjon Inn. He had still his fowl-
ing-piece slung at his back, his pipe was in his
mouth, and his eye-glasses on his nose.
"An odd kind of fish!" Rouletabille said to
me, in a low tone.
"Have you spoken to him? " I asked.
"Yes, but I could get nothing out of him. His
only answers are grunts and shrugs of the shoul-
ders. He generally lives on the first floor of the
donj on, — a big room that once served for an
oratory. He lives like a bear, never goes out with-
out his gun, and is only pleasant with the girls.
The women, for twelve miles round, are all setting
their caps at him. For the present, he is paying
attention to Madame Mathieu, whose husband
is keeping a lynx eye upon her in consequence."
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 belong-
ing to Mademoiselle Stangerson's apartment, said
to me: —
"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."
As I expressed some surprise at this piece of
157


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
nocturnal gymnastics, he begged me to notice care-
fully the exterior disposition of the chateau. We
then went back into the building.
"I must now show you the first floor of the
chateau, where I am living," said my friend.
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 extraor-
dinary phenomenon occurred, the details of which
I am about to relate.

Lumber
Boom
Mllo.
Siangerton's
sitting s Mil*.
Stanfiflriun'e
B«d Room
SJS5i
j #2 T Eight Gallery-.
right wing N^
Mr.
StaBgortoa's
boomI Eoulet■
lj
1 tabiile'a
f|j Boom
v r
0 I
bo '1
1 ■
1 Frederic
at Larsau's
■o H
In liuom
1 I
io 1
of
the
Chateau
a
PLAN
2
M
Left Wing
1. Position where Rouletabille placed Frederic
Larsan.
2. Position where Rouletabille placed Daddy
Jacques.
3. Position where Rouletabille placed Monsieur
Stangerson.
4. Window by which Rouletabille entered.
15S


I EXPECT THE ASSASSIN THIS EVENING
o. Window found open by Rouletabille when
he left the room. He re-closed it. All the other
doors and windows were shut.
6. Terrace surmounting a projecting room on
the ground-floor.
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 gal-
lery 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 gal-
lery. Professor Stangerson inhabited the left wing
of the building. Mademoiselle Stangerson had her
apartment in the right wing.
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 care-
fully, as we were passing the door of Mademoi-
selle 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 con-
tinued 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.
The better to follow this narrative, we shall call
159





I EXPECT THE ASSASSIN THIS EVENING
Two light knocks struck the door. Rouleta-
bille 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: —
"In the grove of the parquet."
Rouletabille replied: "Thanks." — The woman
then left. He again turned to me, his look hag-
gard, after having carefully refastened the door,
muttering some incomprehensible phrases.
"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: —
"Have they set the concierges at liberty,
then?" I asked.
"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."
"Oho!" I said, "when will he have occasion to
doit?"
"This evening, — for this evening I expect the
murderer."
"You expect the murderer this evening? Then
you know him?"
"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!"
11 161


I EXPECT THE ASSASSIN THIS EVENING
help smiling, on hearing this boy of eighteen talk-
ing of a man who had proved to the world that he
was the finest police sleuth-hound in Europe.
"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 of me — given him by Monsieur
Robert Darzac, who is this evening going to in-
crease 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."
"Every time the assassin comes to the chateau!"
I cried. "Has he returned then —?"
"Yes, during that famous night when the
strange phenomenon occurred."
I was now going to learn about the astonishing
phenomenon to which Rouletabille had made allu-
sion 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.
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 hyp-
notism, for example, were not more inexplicable
than the disappearance of the matter of the mur-
derer at the moment when four persons were within
1C3


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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. Who-
ever 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.
"Again the cry of the Bete du Bon Dieu! — and
then silence. The rain ceased to beat on the win-
dow. All in the chateau slept. I walked with in-
finite 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 obj ects in it, — three chairs and some pic-
tures 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 car- pet on which I was treading and saw that my steps
were being directed towards Mademoiselle Stanger-
son's chamber by the marks of steps that had
already been made there. Yes, on the carpet were
166


THE TRAP
traces of footsteps stained with mud leading to
the chamber of Mademoiselle Stangerson. Hor-
ror! Horror! — I recognised in those footprints
the impression of the neat boots of the mur-
derer! 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 ter-
race, then you could get into the chateau by the
same means.
"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 Made-
moiselle 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 gal-
lery door — the door in front of which I am now
standing.
"I am sure that no other crime is being com-
167


THE TRAP
"All these reflections ran through my brain like
a flash of lightning. What would I not give to
know!
"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!
"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.
"I found him dressed, his eyes wide open, al-
most 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.
"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
169


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
only know what was passing in that silent cham-
ber! 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.
"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!'
"He led me round the chateau, past the don-
jon. Arrived there, he said:
"' I went to the donj on 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.'
"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.
"We ran to the ladder, but at the moment of
reaching it, Daddy Jacques drew my attention to
170


THE TRAP
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.
"' He 's not there!' he whispered.
"' Who is not there?'
"' The forest-keeper.'
'With his lips once more to my ear, he added:
;' 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.
"What were my thoughts then? I had no time
to think. I felt more than I thought.
"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 nar-
rowed the field of search for the murderer.
171


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 fright-
ful secret which made her under the necessity of
doing away with obstacles that separated her from
the murderer?
"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.
"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 172


THE TRAP
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 shape-
less shadows. I saw nothing but a monstrous,
stooping back.
"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 pre-
pare my trap. "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!
173


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"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!
"' That's strange!' he said; 'I thought I left
him this afternoon in Paris.'
"He dressed himself in haste and armed himself
with a revolver. We stole quietly into the gallery.
"' Where is he? ' Larsan asked.
"' In Mademoiselle Stangerson's room.'
"' And — Mademoiselle Stangerson?'
"' She is not in there.'
174


THE TRAP
"' Let's go in.'
"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.'
"' I 'll draw him from below.'
"' And if you fail? — If you only succeed in
wounding him — he 'll escape again, without reck-
oning that he is certainly armed. No, let me direct
the expedition, and I 'll answer for everything.'
"' As you like,' he replied, with fairly good
grace.
"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.
"' 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.'
"' What will be yours?' asked Fred.
"' I shall spring into the room and knock him
over for you.'
"' Take my revolver,' said Fred, ' and I 'll take
your stick.'
"' Thanks,' I said; 'You are a brave man.'
"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.
175


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"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.
"When I had sworn to him that his daughter
was not in the room, and in no danger, he con-
quered 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 posi-
tion 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
176


THE TRAP
other windows in the galleries were at such a
height from the ground that it was almost im-
possible 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' gal-
lery — as I had rapidly assured myself — were
strongly secured.
"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. Everything
led me to suppose that when I surprised the mur-
derer in the room, he would run by way of the
ante-room, rather than the boudoir, where the
women were, and of which the door 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 await-
ing him at every possible issue.
"On coming there, he would see on his left, Mon-
sieur Stangerson; he would turn to the right,
towards the 'off-turning' gallery — the way he
had pre-arranged for flight, where, at the inter-
section 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.
12 177


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"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 posi-
tion 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 mo-
ment 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.
"Having so placed my people, I again left the
chateau, hurried to my ladder, and, replacing it,
climbed up, revolver in hand.
"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 mur-
derer. 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 com-
pletely, 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 exe-
178


THE TRAP
cution. I have wished, by this slowness and pre-
cision, to be certain that nothing should be omitted
from the conditions under which the strange phe-
nomenon was produced, which, until some natural
explanation of it is forthcoming, seems to me to
prove, even better than the theories of Pro-
fessor Stangerson, the Dissociation of Matter — I
will even say, the instantaneous Dissociation of
Matter."
179


CHAPTER XVI
Strange Phenomenon of the Dissociation of
Matter
(EXTRACT from THE NOTE-BOOK OF JOSEPH ROULETABILLE,
continued)
"I AM again at the window-sill," continues Rou-
A letabille, "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.
"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
180


THE DISSOCIATION OF MATTER
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 light-
ning, I got on to it.
"But the murderer had been even quicker than
I had been. He had heard the grating of the lad-
der 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.
"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!'
"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
181


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 intersec-
tion 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 — Mon-
sieur 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.
"The man was not there!
"We looked at each other stupidly and with
eyes terrified. The man had vanished like a ghost.
4 Where is he — where is he?' we all asked.
"' It is impossible he can have escaped!' I cried,
my terror mastered by my anger.
"' I touched him!' exclaimed Frederic Larsan.
"' I felt his breath on my face!' cried Daddy
Jacques.
"' Where is he? ' — where is he? ' we all cried.
"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?
"Where is he? — where is he? — He could not
have got away by a door or a window, nor by any
182


THE DISSOCIATION OF MATTER
other way. He could not have passed through our
bodies!
"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! — noth-
ing! We would have looked into a flower-pot, if
there had been one to look into!"
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 win-
dow, nor the stairs — a fact which the judges
would not admit.
183


CHAPTER XVII
The Inexplicable Gallery
"l\/rADEMOISELLE STANGERSON ap-
iyA peared at the door of her ante-room,"
continues Rouletabille's note-book. "We were near
her door in the gallery where this incredible phe-
nomenon 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.
"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.1 It was this sharp reminder
1 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 docu-
ment which I have cited, Rouletabille thought fit to refer to his
childhood.
18•i


THE INEXPLICABLE GALLERY
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 beau-
tiful 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!
"But now, since the occurrence of the inexplic-
able 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 Stanger-
son 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 tie crime she had experienced
135


THE INEXPLICABLE GALLERY
father is telling her, of the presence of the mur-
derer in her chamber, and of the pursuit. But it
is plainly to be seen that she is not wholly satis-
fied by the assurance given her until she had been
told that the murderer, by some incomprehensible
means, had been able to elude us.
"Then follows a silence. What a silence! We
are all there — looking at her, — her father, Lar-
san, Daddy Jacques and I. What were we all
thinking of in the silence? After the events
of that night, of the mystery of the inexplic-
able gallery, of the prodigious fact of the pres-
ence of the murderer in her room, it seemed to
me that all our thoughts might have been trans-
lated 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 — from herself, and, from the
other! — It brought the tears to my eyes.
"She is there, shedding about her the per-
fume 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,
187


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
I should know all. Who? — Who ? — Not know-
ing who, I must remain silent, out of pity for her.
For there is no doubt that she knows how he es-
caped from The Yellow Room, and yet she keeps
the secret. When I know who, I will speak to him
— to him!"
"She looked at us now — with a far-away look
in her eyes — is if we were not in the chamber.
Monsieur Stangerson broke the silence. He de-
clared 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 dis-
tress said: 'Father! — father!' Daddjr 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.
"It was the first time that Frederic Larsan, like
myself, found himself face to face with Mademoi-
selle 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
188


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
"' Did you see him distinctly?' he asked.
"'Who?'
"'The man?'
"' Saw him! — why, he had a big red beard and
red hair.'
"' That's how he appeared to me,' I said.
"' And to me,' said Larsan.
"The great Fred and I were alone in his cham-
ber, 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.
"' He knows the chateau,' he said to me; 'he
knows it well.'
"' He is a rather tall man — well-built,' I
suggested.
"' He is as tall as he wants to be,' murmured
Fred.
"' I understand,' I said; 'but how do you ac-
count for his red hair and beard?'
"' Too much beard — too much hair — false,'
says Fred.
"' That's easily said. You are always think-
ing of Robert Darzac. You can't get rid of that
idea? I am certain that he is innocent.'
"' So much the better. I hope so; but every-
100


THE INEXPLICABLE GALLERY
thing condemns him. Did you notice the marks
on the carpet? — Come and look at them.'
"' I have seen them; they are the marks of the
neat boots, the same as those we saw on the border
of the lake.'
"' Can you deny that they belong to Robert
Darzac?'
"' Of course, one may be mistaken.'
"' Have you noticed that those footprints only
go in one direction? — that there are no returnmarks? When the man came from the chamber,
pursued by all of us, his footsteps left no traces
behind them.'
"' 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.'
"I suddenly put an end to this idle chatter —
void of any logic, and made a sign to Larsan to
listen.
"' There — below; some one is shutting a door.'
"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 be-
neath 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.
"' The forest-keeper!' says Fred.
"' Come on!' I whisper.
"Prepared — I know not why — to believe
that the keeper is the guilty man — I go to the
door and rap smartly on it.
191


THE INEXPLICABLE GALLERY
"There was no mistaking Larsan's bad temper.
On re-entering the chateau, I heard him mutter
"' It would be strange — very strange — if I
had deceived myself on that point!'
"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.'"
IS 193


CHAPTER XVIII
Rouletabille Has Drawn a Circle between
the Two Bumps on His Forehead
(Extract from the Note-Book of Joseph Rouletabille,
continued)
"\TE separated on the thresholds of our
V V rooms, with a melancholy shake of the
hands. I was glad to have aroused in him a suspi-
cion of error. His was an original brain, very in-
telligent 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.
"The method which traces the criminal by means
of the tracks of his footsteps is altogether primi-
tive. . 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.
"If I could but find a right starting-point! In
despair I seated myself on a stone. For over an
194


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
brain within which to unravel this mysterious play
of circumstance.
"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. — 30th October. Noon.
"Joseph Rouletabille."
*****
"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.
"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! — 30th
of October. Midnight."
"Joseph Rouletabille."
196


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
of the right end of his reason. That strange
and unique way of his, to express himself in terms
wonderfully adequate for his thought, 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.
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 suspect-
ing 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.
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."
"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 pur-
sued was in the gallery." I paused.
"After making so good a start, you ought not
to stop so soon," he exclaimed. "Come, make
another effort."
"I 'll try. Since he disappeared from the gal-
lery without passing through any door or window,
he must have escaped by some other opening."
Rouletabille looked at me pityingly, smiled care-
lessly, and remarked that I was reasoning like
a postman, or — like Frederic Larsan.
T198


BREAKFAST AT THE DONJON INN
Rouletabillc had alternate fits of admiration
and disdain for the great Fred. It all depended
as to whether Larsan's discoveries tallied with Rou-
letabille'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.
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.
"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?"
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.
"But was he not to have left France almost
immediately? " I asked.
"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
199


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
got here before dinner, then. Why did n't the
concierges tell me?"
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.
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.
As the concierges spoke, I saw Rouletabille's face
cloud over and exhibit disappointment — a disap-
pointment, 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.
"You say that Monsieur Arthur Rance is ac-
customed to come to the chateau. When did he
come here last?"
"We can't tell you exactly," replied Madame
*00


BREAKFAST AT THE DONJON INN
Bernier — that was the name of the concierge —
"we could n'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."
"Do you know when he came the firsttime?"
"Oh yes, Monsieur! — nine years ago."
"He was in France nine years ago, then," said
Rouletabillc, "and, since that time, as far as
you know, how many times has he been at the
Glandier?"
"Three times."
"When did he come the last time, as far as you
know?"
"A week before the attempt in The Yellow
Room."
Rouletabillc put another question — this time
addressing himself particularly to the woman: —
"In the grove of the parquet?"
"In the grove of the parquet," she replied.
"Thanks!" said Rouletabillc "Be ready for
me this evening."
He spoke the last words with a finger on his lips
as if to command silence and discretion.
We left the park and took the way to the Donj on
Inn.
"Do you often eat here?"
"Sometimes."
"But you also take your meals at the chateau?"
"Yes, Larsan and I are sometimes served in
one of our rooms."
"Has n't Monsieur Stangerson ever invited you
to his own table?"
801


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"Never."
"Does your presence at the chateau displease
him?"
"I don't know; but, in any case, he does not
make us feel that we are in his way."
"Does n't he question you?"
"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."
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.
"I went lately 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 assur'
ance 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.
"They confessed to poaching on Monsieur
202


BREAKFAST AT THE DONJON INN
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 mo-
ment 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
Donj on Inn? —' We shall have to eat red meat
— now!' I had heard the words on the same morn-
ing 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, be-
hind us the landlord of the Donjon Inn, standing
on his doorstep, said to someone inside: ' We shall
have to eat red meat — now.'
"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, there-
fore, 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
203


BREAKFAST AT THE DONJON INN
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 lib-
erty, 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."
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.
We reached the Donjon Inn and entered it.
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 charm-
ing blonde woman with the gentle eyes who now
immediately began to prepare our breakfast.
"Plow 's Daddy Mathieu?" asked Rouletabille.
"Not much better — not much better; he is
still confined to his bed."
205


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"His rheumatism still sticks to him, then?"
"Yes. Last night I was again obliged to give
him morphine — the only drug that gives him any
relief."
She spoke in a soft voice. Everything about
her expressed gentleness. She was, indeed, a beau-
tiful woman; somewhat with an air of indolence,
with great eyes seemingly black and blue — amor-
ous eyes. Was she happy with her crabbed, rheu-
matic 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.
"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: —
"Last night, just as I was going to bed, Mon-
sieur 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
206


BREAKFAST AT THE DONJON INN
1
"She is much jollier when Daddy Mathieu is in
bed with his rheumatism," Rouletabille said to me.
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.
When he had finished his omelette and we were
again alone, Rouletabille continued the tale of
his confidences.
"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 ex-
pect him."
"What has made you feel this certainty?"
"I have been sure since half-past ten o'clock
this morning that he would come. I knew that be-
fore we saw Arthur Rance at the window in the
court."
"Ah!" I said, "But, again — what made you
so sure? And why since half-past ten this
morning?"
"Because, at half-past ten, I had proof that
Mademoiselle Stangcrson was making as many
efforts to permit of the murderer's entrance as
Monsieur Robert Darzac had taken precautions
against it."
"Is that possible!" I cried. "Have n't you
told me that Mademoiselle Stangerson loves Mon-
sieur Robert Darzac?"
"I told you so because it is the truth."
"Then do you see nothing strange —"
"Everything in this business is strange, my
211


CHAPTER XX
An Act of Mademoiselle Stangerson
""\7"0U remember me, Monsieur?" asked Roulet-
JL abille.
"Perfectly!" replied Arthur Rance. "I rec-
ognise 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."
The American extended his hand and Rouleta-
bille, relaxing his frown, shook it and introduced
Mr. Arthur Rance to me. He invited him to share
our meal.
"No thanks. I breakfasted with Monsieur
Stangerson."
Arthur Rance spoke French perfectly, — almost
without an accent.
"I did not expect to have the pleasure of see-
ing you again, Monsieur. I thought you were
to have left France the day after the reception
at the Elysee." Rouletabille and I, outwardly indifferent, lis-
tened most intently for every word the American
would say.
The man's purplish red face, his heavy eyelids,
the nervous twitchings, all spoke of his addiction
to drink. How come it that so sorry a specimen
of a man should be so intimate with Monsieur
Stangerson?
213


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
Some days later, I learned from Frederic Lar-
san — who, like ourselves, was surprised and mys-
tified by his appearance and reception at the
chateau — that Mr. Rance had been an inebriate
for about fifteen years only; 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 rendered Mademoiselle Stang-
erson 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.
Frederic Larsan did not tell me where he had
picked up this information; but he appeared to
be quite sure of what he said.
Had we known these facts at the time Arthur
Ranee 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.
"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,
214


ACT OF MADEMOISELLE STANGERSON
and I shall not go away until she is perfectly
recovered."
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 Larsan. 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 Rou-
letabille 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.
Rouletabille watched him through the window.
"An odd fish, that!" he said.
"Do you think he 'll pass the night at the
Glandier?" I asked.
To my amazement the young reporter answered
that it was a matter of entire indifference to him
whether he did or not.
As to how we spent our time during the
afternoon, all I need say is that Rouletabille led
215


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
me to the grotto of Sainte-Genevieve, and, all the
time, talked of every subj ect but the one with 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.
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 de-
sired nothing more. I did not insist, knowing
by experience how useless that would have been.
He told me that, with the help of the con-
cierges, the chateau had since early dawn, been
watched in such a way that nobody could ap-
proach it without his knowing it, and that he had
no concern for those who might have left it and
remained without.
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 gal-
lery. 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.
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 win-
216


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
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.
318


ON THE WATCH
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 —"
"Into the circle?"
"Exactly! And his face won't surprise me!"
"But I thought you saw his face on the night
when you sprang into the chamber?"
"Only imperfectly. The candle was on the floor;
and, his beard —"
"Will he wear his beard this evening?"
"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."
"If we are here only to see him and let him
escape, why are we armed?"
"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."
"And you are sure he will come to-night?"
"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, ar-
ranged 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 ex-
221


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
traordinary 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."
"That's awful!"
"It is!"
"And what we saw her do was done to send her
father to sleep?"
"Yes."
"Then there are but two of us for to-night's
work?"
"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!"
"Then you think there may be?"
"If he wishes it."
"Why have n't you brought in Daddy Jacques?
— Have you made no use of him to-day?"
"No," replied Rouletabille sharply.
I kept silence for awhile, then, anxious to know
his thoughts, I asked him point blank:
"Why not tell Arthur Rance? — He may be of
great assistance to us?"
"Oh!" said Rouletabille crossly, "then you
want to let everybody into Mademoiselle Stanger-
son'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, any-
how, 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!"
222


ON THE WATCH
At this moment we heard a noise in the room
near us.
"It must be he," said Rouletabille.
"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?"
"Evidently. We are going to operate alone,
on our own personal account."
"So that all the glory will be ours?"
Rouletabille laughed.
We dined with Frederic Larsan in his room.
He told us he had j ust 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 slight-
est remark on matters which did not concern him.
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 ex-
pressed a desire to know more, at any rate, so far
223


ON THE WATCH
"Oh! Oh!" he cried. "What is the matter
• with me? — Have I been poisoned?"
He looked at us with haggard eyes. We ques-
tioned 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 beat-
ings of the heart.
My friend's face, however, when he stood up,
was as calm as it had been a moment before
agitated.
"He is asleep," he said.
He led me to his chamber, after closing Larsan's
room.
"The drug?" I asked. "Does Mademoiselle
Stangerson wish to put everybody to sleep, to-
night?"
"Perhaps," replied Rouletabille; but I could
see he was thinking of something else.
"But what about us?" I exclaimed. "How do
we know that we have not been drugged?"
"Do you feel indisposed?" Rouletabille asked
\ me coolly.
"Not in the least."
"Do you feel any inclination to go to sleep?"
"None whatever."
"Well, then, my friend, smoke this excellent
cigar."
And he handed me a choice Havana, one Mon-
15 225


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
sieur Darzac had given him, while he lit his briar-
wood — his eternal briarwood.
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
signed to me to do the same. Standing in our
socks he said, in so low a tone that I guessed, rather
than heard, the word:
"Revolver."
I drew my revolver from my jacket pocket.
"Cock it!" he said.
I did as he directed.
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.
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. Aston-
ished 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.
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 cur- tain 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 be-
22G


ON THE WATCH
fore 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.
I retired into the dark closet. I found myself
perfectly situated. I could see along the whole
length of the gallery. Nothing, absolutely noth-
ing could pass there without my seeing it. But
what was going to pass there? Rouletabille's em-
brace 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?
My hand closed on the butt of my revolver and
I waited. I am not a hero; but neither am I a
coward.
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.
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 be-
hind the door.
At that moment I noticed a strange sound, three
times repeated, coming from the park. Ordinarily
I should not have attached any more importance
227


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
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.
Arrived 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 pack-
age and moved along the gallery towards the
landing-place.
Rouletabille had instructed me to undo the cur-
tain-cord when I saw anything. Was Rouletabille
expecting this? It was not my business to ques-
tion. All I had to do was obey instructions. I un-
228


ON THE WATCH
fastened 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.
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 ex-
ceedingly perplexed. Half an hour passed, an age
to me. What was I to do now, even if I saw some-
thing? 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 with, 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, picked
my steps and made my way to the "off-turning"
gallery.
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.
229


CHAPTER xxii The Incredible Body
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 suc-
cumbed 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.
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.
More than a quarter of an hour passed. I re-
solved, 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
2S0


THE INCREDIBLE BODY
pinched him and shook him until he was able to
stand up. We were saved!
"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."
He had no sooner uttered those words than we
were thrilled by a frightful cry that rang through
the chateau, — a veritable death cry.
"Malheur!" roared Rouletabille; "we shall be
too late!"
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 mad-
man 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.
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 com-
ing 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. Instinc-
tively 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
231


THE INCREDIBLE BODY
into the vestibule of the chateau." Then as if on
second thought, he said: "No! — no! Let us
put him in his own room."
Rouletabille knocked at the door. Nobody
answered. Naturally, this did not surprise me.
"He is evidently not there, otherwise he would
have come out," said the reporter. "Let us carry
him to the vestibule then."
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.
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.
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.
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
sW3


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
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: —
"The man you believe to have been shot was
killed by the stab of a knife in his heart!"
I thought Rouletabille had gone mad; but, bend-
ing 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.


CHAPTER XXIII
The Double Scent
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.
"What are we going to do there?"
"To think the matter over."
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.
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.
"How about Mademoiselle Stangerson?" I
asked him.
"Her condition, though very alarming, is not
desperate."
235


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"When did you leave this room?"
"Towards dawn."
"I guess you have been hard at work?"
"Rather!"
"Have you found out anything?"
"Two sets of footprints!"
"Do they explain anything?"
"Yes."
"Have they anything to do with the mystery
of the keeper's body?"
"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 walk-
ing 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.
"Still following the tracks of the prints, Lar-
san 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.
"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 ser-
236


THE DOUBLE SCENT
vant 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.
"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 fol-
lowed, he sat up in bed trembling.
"' And you were not alone!' cried Larsan.
"' Did you see it then?' gasped Daddy Jacques.
"'What?' I asked.
"' The phantom — the black phantom!'
"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 dis-
turbed by a presentiment that some new crime
would be attempted. Suddenly he saw the black
237


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 sud-
denly disappeared.
"' Did you see his face?' demanded Larsan.
"' No! — I saw nothing but black veils.'
"' Did you go out after what passed on the
gallery?'
"' I could not! — I was terrified.'
"' Daddy Jacques,' I said, in a threatening
voice,' you did not follow it; you and the phantom
walked to Epinay together — arm in arm!'
"' 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.'
"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:
"' An accomplice?'
"' 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."
"Well, what do you make of it?" I asked Rou-
letabille, after he had ended his recital. "Per-
sonally I am utterly in the dark. I can't make
anything out of it. What do you gather?"
"Everything! Everything!" he exclaimed.
"But," he said abruptly, "let's find out further
about Mademoiselle Stangerson."
238





TWO HALVES OF THE MURDERER
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 bou-
doir, 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.
On his way to rejoin 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 im-
ponderable 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?
*****
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 infor-
mation 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
16 241


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
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, accord-
ing to his habit, to walk to the station.
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. Mon-
sieur Rance had had tea served him in his room,
because he had complained of a slight indisposition.
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 Rou-
letabille had uncovered the body, that the man had
242


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"I can do it, Monsieur Robert Darzac, because
I know more than you do!"
"Come! Come!" murmured Darzac, almost
angrily.
"Have no fear! I shall know only what will
benefit you."
"You must know nothing, young man, if you
want me to be grateful."
Rouletabille shook his head, going close up' to
Darzac.
"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. Mademoi-
selle Stangerson knows it; but only half of it;
but I know his two halves; I know the whole
man!"
Robert Darzac opened his eyes, with a look that
showed he had not understood a word of what Rou-
letabille had said to him. At that moment the con-
veyance arrived, driven by Frederic Larsan. Dar-
zac and the gendarme entered it, Larsan remaining
on the driver's seat. The prisoner was taken to
Corbeil.
248


CHAPTER XXVI
In Which Joseph Rouletabille is Awaited
with Impatience
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 Sor-
bonne, 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
851


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 un-
hinged by the horrible mystery at the Glandier.
The question before the jury is the one we pro-
pose to deal with this very day.
"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 assum-
ing 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 in-
quiry. 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.
"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 re-
lating to the ' Left foot of the Rue Oberkampf,' at
the time of the famous robbery of the Credit Uni-
252


AWAITED WITH IMPATIENCE
versel, 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 un-
ravel 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 repre-
sentative 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 to where it brought Monsieur Robert
Darzac.
"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; per-
haps 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
253


AWAITED WITH IMPATIENCE
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 wrong-
ful 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.
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 mur^
derer. This goes to show to what a pitch of mad-
ness nervous excitement may carry people. Rou->
letabille 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 Rouleta-
bille!" The arrival of the manager of the paper
255


AWAITED WITH IMPATIENCE
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.
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 Mon-
sieur 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 Presi-
dent's reprimands. He was told that his silence
might mean death.
"Very well," he said; "I will submit to it; but
I am innocent."
With that splendid ability which has made his
fame, Maitre Robert took advantage of the inci-
\ dent, 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 adjourn-
ment Rouletabille had not yet arrived. Every
17 257


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 expecta-
tion followed. The letter!
It is not, however, my intention to report in
detail the course of the trial. My readers are sum-'
ciently acquainted with the mysteries surround-
ing the Glandier case to enable me to go on to the
really dramatic denouement of this ever-memorable
day.
When the trial was resumed, Maitre Henri Rob-
ert 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.
"In a short conversation which I have had with
Frederic Larsan, during the adjournment," de-
clared 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."
Frederic Larsan was brought in. His explana-
tion was quite clear.
"I see no necessity," he said, "for bringing
Mathieu in this. I have told Monsieur de Marquct
258


AWAITED WITH IMPATIENCE
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. Made-
moiselle 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 Made-
moiselle Stangerson and with this he killed the
keeper."
This very simple explanation appeared at once
plausible and satisfying. A murmur of approba-
tion was heard.
"And the murderer? What became of him?"
asked the President.
"He was evidently hidden in an obscure cor-
ner 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."
The words had scarcely left Larsan's mouth
when from the back of the court came a youthful
voice: —
"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!"
Everybody turned round, astonished. The
clerks of the court sprang towards the speaker,
calling out silence, and the President angrily or-
«59


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
dered the intruder to be immediately expelled.
The same clear voice, however, was again
heard:—
"It is I, Monsieur President — Joseph Rouleta-
bille!"
£00


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
discretionary power, I hold you at the court's
disposition."
"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.
"Take him away!" ordered the President.
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 wit-
ness 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.
"Are you going to tell us who the murderer
was?" asked the President, somewhat convinced
though still sceptical.
"I have come for that purpose, Monsieur
President!" replied Rouletabille.
An attempt at applause was silenced by the
usher.
"Joseph Rouletabille," said Maitre Henri Rob-
ert, " has not been regularly subpoenaed as a wit-
ness, but I hope, Monsieur President, you will
examine him in virtue of your discretionary
powers."
"Very well!" said the President, " we will ques-
tion him. But we must proceed in order."
The Advocate-General rose:
"It would, perhaps, be better," he said, "if


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
the young man were to tell us now whom he
suspects."
The President nodded ironically: —
"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."
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.
"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: —
"Monsieur President, I cannot name the mur-
derer before half-past six o'clock!"
Loud murmurs of disappointment filled the
room. Some of the lawyers were heard to say:
"He 's making fun of us!"
The President in a stern voice, said: —;
"This j oke has gone far enough. You may
retire, Monsieur, into the witnesses' room. I hold
you at our disposition."
Rouletabille protested.
"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 expla-
nation of the murder of the keeper. Monsieur
Frederic Larsan, who has seen me at work at the
dandier, can tell you with what care I studied this


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
case. I found myself compelled to differ with him
in arresting Monsieur Robert Darzac, who is inno-
cent. Monsieur Larsan knows of my good faith
and knows that some importance may be attached
to my discoveries, which have often corroborated
his own."
Frederic Larsan said: —
"Monsieur President, it will be interesting to
hear Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, especially as
he differs from me."
A murmur of approbation greeted the detec-
tive's speech. He was a good sportsman and ac-
cepted the challenge. The struggle between the
two promised to be exciting.
As the President remained silent, Frederic Lar-
san continued:
"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."
"I have no doubt you are," said my friend.
General laughter followed this remark. The
President angrily declared that if it was repeated,
he would have the court cleared.
"Now, young man," said the President, "you
have heard Monsieur Frederic Larsan; how did
the murderer get away from the court?"
*****
Rouletabille looked at Madame Mathieu, who
smiled back at him sadly.
"Since Madame Mathieu," he said, "has freely
admitted her intimacy with the keeper —"
264


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
Here Rouletabille turning towards Madame
Mathieu, with a bow, said: —
"The footprints of Madame bear a strange re-
semblance to the neat footprints of the murderer."
Madame Mathieu trembled and looked at him
with wide eyes as if in wonder at what he would
say next.
"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."
A movement in the court was repressed by Rou-
letabille. He held their attention at once.
"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 foot-
prints are also like the murderer's, and yet he is
not the murderer!"
The President turning to Madame Mathieu
asked:—
"Is that in accordance with what you know
occurred?"
"Yes, Monsieur President," she replied, " it is as
if Monsieur Rouletabille had been behind us."
"Did you see the murderer running towards
the end of the right wing?"
"Yes, as clearly as I saw them afterwards
carrying the keeper's■ body."
"What became of the murderer? — You were
in the court and could easily have seen?"
"I saw nothing of him, Monsieur President. It
became quite dark just then."
"Then Monsieur Rouletabille," said the Presi-
267


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
On the stroke of half-past six Joseph Rouleta-
bille 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. Dar-
zac rose to his feet, frightfully pale.
The President, addressing Rouletabille, said
gravely: —
"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."
Rouletabille looked the President quite calmly
and steadily in the face, and replied:
"Yes, Monsieur."
"At your last appearance here," said the Presi-
dent, " 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."
"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
court."
"And you did not see him? At least that is
what the prosecution declares."
W' "No! we all of us saw him, Monsieur le Presi-
'dent!" cried Rouletabille.
"Then why was he not arrested?"
"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
276


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
we had the murderer before us and that we were
actually looking at him. I have now brought
what I consider the indisputable proof."
"Speak out, Monsieur! Tell us the murderer's
name."
"You will find it on the list of names present in
the court on the night of the tragedy," replied
Rouletabille.
The people present in the court-room began
showing impatience. Some of them even called for
the name, and were silenced by the usher.
"The list includes Daddy Jacques, Bernier the
concierge, and Mr. Arthur Rance," said the Presi-
dent. "Do you accuse any of these?"
"No, Monsieur!"
"Then I do not understand what you are driv-
ing at. There was no other person at the end
of the court."
"Yes, Monsieur, there was, not at the end, but
above the court, who was leaning out of the
window."
"Do you mean Frederic Larsan!" exclaimed the
President.
"Yes! Frederic Larsan!" replied Rouleta-
bille in a ringing tone. "Frederic Larsan is the
murderer!"
*****
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:
271


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"It's impossible! He 's mad!"
"You dare to accuse Frederic Larsan, Mon-
sieur? " asked the President. "If you are not mad,
what are your proofs?"
"Proofs, Monsieur? — Do you want proofs?
Well, here is one," cried Rouletabille shrilly. "Let
Frederic Larsan be called!"
"Usher, call Frederic Larsan."
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:
"Monsieur President, Frederic Larsan is not
here. He left at about four o'clock and has not
been seen since."
"That is my proof!" cried Rouletabille, tri-
umphantly.
"Explain yourself?" demanded the President.
"My proof is Larsan's flight," said the young
reporter. "He will not come back. You will see
no more of Frederic Larsan."
"Unless you are playing with the court, Mon-
sieur, why did you not accuse him when he was
present? He would then have answered you."
"He could give no other answer than the one
he has now given by his flight."
"We cannot believe that Larsan has fled. There
was no reason for his doing so. Did he know
you 'd make this charge?"
"He did. I told him I would."
"Do you mean to say that knowing Larsan was
the murderer you gave him the opportunity to
escape?"
272


JOSEPH ROUTLETABILLE APPEARS
"Yes, Monsieur President, I did," replied Rou-
letabille, 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 Rouleta-
bille, 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 be-
came celebrated as Frederic Larsan, is notorious
under another name — a name well known to
crime. Frederic Larsan, Monsieur President, is
Ballmeyer!"
"Ballmeyer!" cried the President.
"Ballmeyer!" exclaimed Robert Darzac, spring-
ing to his feet. "Ballmeyer! — It was true, then!"
"Ah! Monsieur Darzac; you don't think I am
mad, now!" cried Rouletabille.
Ballmeyer! Ballmeyer! No other word could
be heard in the court-room. The President ad-
journed the hearing.
*****
Those of my readers who may not have heard
of Ballmej'er will wonder at the excitement the
name caused. And yet the doings of this remark-
18 273


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
able criminal form the subject-matter of the most
dramatic narratives of the newspapers and crim-
inal 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 through-
out the whole of his career.
Ballmeyer was the best specimen of the high-
class " gentleman swindler." He was an adept at
sleight of hand tricks, and no bolder or more ruth-
less 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 ex-
peditions 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.
He left France, later, to "work" America.
The police there succeeded in once capturing him,
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 crim-
inal an opportunity for another laugh at the so-
ciety 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 made- 274


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
jnoiselle Stangerson and rid Darzac of an enemy
at the same time.
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?
Rouletabille was immediately called to the bar
and his examination continued.
"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?"
"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."
Rouletabille drew from his pocket a small packet,
from which he produced a strong iron peg.
"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
275


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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 con-
dition. Had I not been thus overpowered, Larsan
would never have entered Mademoiselle Stanger-
son's chamber that night, and the attack on her
would not have taken place."
A groan came from Darzac, who appeared to be
unable to control his suffering.
"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 be-
lieve 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!"
"How did you come to suspect Larsan?" asked
the President.
"My pure reason pointed to him. That was
why I watched him. But I did not foresee the drug-
ging. 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."
"What do you mean by your pure reason?"
"That power of one's mind which admits of no
276


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
disturbing elements to a conclusion. The day fol-
lowing 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 were 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.
"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 Mon-
277


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
sicur 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 per-
sonality of the unknown of whom I was in pursuit
— the murderer, in other words.
"That revelation staggered me. I tried to re-
gain my balance by going over the evidences pre-
viously traced, but which had diverted my mind
and led me away from Frederic Larsan. What
were these evidences?
"1st. I had seen the unknown in Mademoiselle
Stangerson's chamber. On going to Frederic Lar-
san's room, I had found Larsan sound asleep.
"2nd. The ladder.
"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.
"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.
"Nor did the second evidence trouble me. If
278


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
ing for the lost eye-glasses. Mademoiselle Stang-
erson knew Larsan under another name."
"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."
"Mademoiselle Stangerson told me nothing," re-
plied Monsieur Darzac.
"Does what this young man say appear prob able to you?" the President asked.
"Mademoiselle Stangerson has told me noth-
ing," he replied stolidly.
"How do you explain that, on the night of the
murder of the keeper," the President asked, turn-
ing to Rouletabille, "the murderer brought back
the papers stolen from Monsieur Stangerson ? —
How do you explain how the murderer gained en-
trance into Mademoiselle Stangerson's locked
room?"
"The last question is easily answered. A man
like Larsan, or Ballmeyer, could have had made du-
plicate keys. As to the documents, I think Larsan
had not intended to steal them, at first. Closely
watching Mademoiselle with the purpose of pre-
venting her marriage with Monsieur Robert Dar-
zac, 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 at-
tached to the key till the advertisement in the
281


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
of "Hush!" showed the curiosity that had been
aroused.
"It seems to me," said the President, " that the
Mystery of The Yellow Room, Monsieur Rouleta-
bille, is wholly explained by your hypothesis.
Frederic Larsan is the explanation. We have
merely to substitute him for Monsieur Robert Dar-
zac. 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."
"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."
"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."
"That does not follow."
"What do you mean?"
"There was no need for him to escape — if he
was not there!"
"Not there!"
"Evidently, not. He could not have been there,
if he were not found there."
284


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
"But, what about the evidences of his pres-
ence? " asked the President.
"That, Monsieur President, is where we have
taken hold of the wrong end. From the time Made-
moiselle Stangerson shut herself in her room to the
time her door wag burst open, it was impossible
for the murderer to escape. He was not found
because he was not there during that time."
"But the evidences?"
"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 mat-
ter of these traces and see if they do not point to
my conclusion.
"After the publication of the article in the
'Matin' and my conversation with the examin-
ing magistrate on the journey from Paris to
Epinay-sur-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.
"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 recon-
285


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
kerchief, 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.
"My reasoning had thus brought me to the
second phase of the tragedy, when Mademoiselle
Str.ngerson 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 ex-
planation 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 posi-
tion 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.
"My theory, based on the evidence of the shots
288


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
"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!"
Turning towards Monsieur Darzac, Rouletabille
cried: —
"You know the truth! Tell us, then, if that is
not how things happened."
"I don't know anything about it," replied Mon-
sieur Darzac.
"I admire you for your silence," said Rouleta-
bille, "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!"
Monsieur Darzac made no movement, nor uttered
a word. He looked at Rouletabille sadly.
"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."
"What is this secret motive that compels Made-
moiselle Stangerson to hide her knowledge from
her father? " asked the President.
"That, Monsieur, I do not know," said Rouleta-
bille. "It is no business of mine."
The President turning to Monsieur Darzac en-
deavoured to induce him to tell what he knew.


JOSEPH ROULETABILLE APPEARS
"Do you still refuse, Monsieur, to tell us how
you employed your time during the attempts on
the life of Mademoiselle Stangerson?"
"I cannot tell you anything, Monsieur."
The President turned to Roulctabille as if ap-
pealing for an explanation.
"We must assume, Monsieur President, that
Monsieur Robert Darzac's absensions 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."
The President seemed partly convinced, but still
curious, he asked:
"But what is this secret of Mademoiselle
Stangerson?"
"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.
"One question more," said the President. "Ad-
mitting your explanation, we know that Larsan
wished to turn suspicion on Monsieur Robert Dar-
zac, but why should he throw suspicion on Daddy
Jacques also?"
"There came in the professional detective, Mon-
sieur, who proves himself an unravcllcr of mys-
teries,' by annihilating the very proofs he had ac-
293


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
cumulated. 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, Mon-
sieur, that so complicated a scheme as this must
have been long and carefully thought out in ad-
vance 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 him-
self as the commissionaire between the ' Laboratory
of the SArete' 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 handker-
chief, 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 Sflrete a number of innocent persons have been
sent to prison."
294


CHAPTER XXVIII
In Which it is Proved That One Does not
Always Think of Everything
GREAT excitement prevailed when Rouletabille
had finished. The court-room became agi-
tated 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 ad-
journed. 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.
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 photo-
graph. He, who had interviewed so many illus-
trious 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.
29*


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
"My friend," I said, " that Larsan case is won-
derful. It is worthy of you."
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 admira-
tion for his ability.
"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 under-
stand, all about Frederic Larsan; you had discov-
ered the exact way he had attempted the murder?"
"Quite so. And you," he said, turning the con-
versation, "did you suspect nothing?"
"Nothing!"
"It's incredible!"
"I don't see how I could have suspected any-
thing. You took great pains to conceal your
thoughts from me. Had you already suspected
Larsan when you sent for me to bring the
revolvers?"
"Yes! I had come to that conclusion through
the incident of the 'inexplicable gallery.' Lar-
san'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
896


ONE DOES NOT ALWAYS THINK
murderer seemed so extraordinary that I resolved
to wait for actual evidence before venturing to act.
Nevertheless, the suspicion worried me, and I some-
times 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 im-
agine my elation after I had explained Larsan's
movements. I remember well rushing into my room
like a madman 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!'
"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.'
"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 had n't used the cane
evidence. He told me he had never had any inten-
tion of doing so; that our discovery of it in the
297


*
CHAPTER XXIX
The Mystery of Mademoiselle Stangerson
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:
"Can't you understand that I had to know Lar-
san's true personality?"
"No doubt," I said, "but why did you go to
America to find that out?"
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.
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 Stangei"-
son knows all and has forgiven all; all may be told.
300


MYSTERY OF MLLE. STANGERSON
In every phase of this remarkable story Mademoi-
selle Stangerson had always been the sufferer.
The beginning dates from the time when, as a
young girl, she was living with her father in Phila-
delphia. A visitor at the house, a Frenchman, had
succeeded by his wit, grace and persistent atten-
tion, 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 an-
other 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.
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!
301


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
The young woman in her despair tried to com-
mit suicide. She failed in this, and was forced to
rejoin her aunt at Cincinnati. The old lady was
ovci'j oycd to see her again. She had been anxiously
searching for her and had not dared to tell Mon-
sieur Stangerson of her disappearance. Mathilde
swore her to secrecy, so that her father should not
know she had been away. A month later, Made-
moiselle Stangerson returned to her father, re-
pentant, her heart dead within her, hoping only
one thing: that she would never again see her hus-
band, 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.
All this she had confessed to Robert Darzac, and,
believing Ballmeyer dead, had given herself to the
j oy 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.
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 scoun-
drel pretended to be rich and claimed the right of
taking her back to Louisville. She had told Dar-
zac that if her father should know of her dis-
302


MYSTERY OF MLLE. STANGERSON
honour, 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.
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, unfortunate^,
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 ia
her sick chamber, she had avoided him by sleeping
with her women. 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 "in-
explicable gallery" occurred.
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 in-
cident 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.
303


MYSTERY OF MLLE. STANGERSON
Now that the Mystery of The Yellow Room has
been cleared up, this is not the time to tell of Rou-
letabille'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 mar-
riage 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 under-
stood 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.
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 pur-
suit of traces of Mademoiselle Stangerson, he took
up those of Ballmeyer. He followed them from
prison to prison, from crime to crime. Finally,
20 306


THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
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.
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.
What became of that son ? — That is another
story which, so far, I am not permitted to
relate.
About two months after these events, I came
upon Rouletabille sitting on a bench in the Palais
de Justice, looking very depressed.
"What's the matter, old man? " I asked. "You
are looking very downcast. How are your friends
getting on?"
"Apart from you," he said, "I have no
friends."
"I hope that Monsieur Darzac —"
"No doubt,"
"And Mademoiselle Stangerson — How is
she?"
"Better — much better."
"Then you ought not to be sad."
"I am sad," he said, " because I am thinking of
the perfume of the lady in black —"
"The perfume of the lady in black! — I have
306


MYSTERY OF 2.1LLE. STANGERSON
heard you often refer to it. Tell me why it
troubles you."
"Perhaps — some day; some day," said Rou-
letabille.
And he heaved a profound sigh.


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Way be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Cresset & Dunlap's list
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The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, " Buffalo Bill," as told by Ms sister and
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NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY
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HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED.
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MAVERICKS.
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A TEXAS RANGER.
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In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured
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RIDGWAY OF MONTANA.
The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where poli-
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Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, re-
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A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid
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Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York






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