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The Western news. (Stevensville, Mont.) 1890-1977, January 13, 1909, Image 7

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84036207/1909-01-13/ed-1/seq-7/

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to wake M. Stangerson and Instruct ,
old men, and I am not yet fully de- ;
▼eloped. I might not be strong
•nough. Larsan Is used to wrestling
Bud putting on the handcuffs. He
kin to await my coming in Mile.
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 Uked to work alone and
to have carried off all the honors of
this affair myself right under the very
Bose of the sleeping detective. But
Daddy Jacques and M. Stangersou are
Opened his eyes, swollen with sleep.
Veady to send me flying without In the
iMst believing In my reporter's fan
cies. I had to assure him that the
man was there.
" "That's strange,' he said. 'I thought 1
left him this afternoon in Paris.'
"He dressed himself in haste and
Brmed himself with a revolver. We
•tole quietly into the gallery.
" 'Where is he?' Larsau asked.
" 'In Mile. Stangerson's room.'
"'And Mile. Stangerson?'
" 'She is not in there.'
" 'Let's go In.'
" 'Don't go there. On the least
fU&rm the man will escape. He has
four ways by which to do It—the door,
the window, the boudoir or the room
tu which the women are sleeping.'
* 'I'll draw him from below.'
"'And if you fall? If you only suc
ceed in wounding him he'll escape
ftgain without reckoning that he is
Certninly armed. No; let me direct the
expedition, and I'll answer for every
" 'As you like,' he replied, with fairly
good grace.
"Then after satisfying myself that
mil the windows of the two galleries
mere thoroughly secure I placed Fred
eric Larsan at the end of the 'off turn
ing' 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 re.
turn 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.
" T shall spring Into the room and
knock him over for you.'
" 'Take my revolver,' said Fred, 'and
m take your stick.'
" 'Thanks,' I said. 'You are a brave
"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.
"I left Fred, having posted him at
the window, and, with the greatest
precaution, went toward M. Ktanger
Bon'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 liis master to dress as quickly
as possible. In a few words I ex
plained to M. Stangerson what was
passing. lie armed himself with a re
volver, followed me, and we were all
three speedily in the gallery. Since i
had seen the murderer seated at tin*
desk ten minutes had elapsed. M.
Stangerson wished to spring upon the
assassin at once and kill him. I made
him understand that, above all, he
must not miss him.
"When 1 had sworn to him that his
daughter was not iu the room and in
no danger he conquered his impatience
and left me to direct the operations. 1
told them that they must come to me
the inouieut I called to them or when
I tired my revolver. 1 then sent Dad
dy Jacques to place himself before
the window at the end of the 'right'
gallery. 1 chose that position for Dad
dy Jacques because I believed that the
murderer, tracked on leaving the room,
would run through the gallery toward
the window which he had left open
and, instantly seeing that it was
guarded by Larsan, would pursue his
course aloug 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 but
tress, while all the other windows in
the galleries were at such a height
from the ground that it was almost
Impossible to jump from them with
out breaking one's neck. All the doors
and windows, including those of the
lumber room at the eud of the 'right'
gallery—as I had rapidly assured my
self—were strongly secured.
"Having indicated to Daddy Jacques
the post he was to occupy and having
seen him take up his position, I placed
M. Stangersou on the lauding at the
head of the stairs uot far from the
door of his daughter's anteroom. Ev
erything led me to suppose that when
I surprised the murderer 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 Mile.
Stangerson herself if, as I thought,
she had taken refuge iu the boudoir
for the purpose of avoiding the mur
derer who was coming to see her. In
any ease he must return to the gal
lery where my people were awaiting
him at every possible issue.
"On coming there he would see on
his left M. Stangerson. He would turn
to the right, toward the 'off turning'
gallery, the way he had prearranged
for flight, where at the intersection of
the two galleries he would see at
once, as I have explained, on his left
Frederic Larsan at the end of the 'off
turning' gallery and in front Daddy
Jacques at the end of the 'right' gal
Iery M. Stangerson and myself would
arrive by way of the back of the cha
teau. He is oursl He can no longer
•scape ns! I was sure of that.
"The plan I had formed seemed
me the liest, the surest and the most
simple. It would, no doubt, have been
simpler still if we had been able
place some one directly behind the door
of mademoiselle's bondolr. which open
ed out of her bedchamber. and_lq_tha'c
hr, d t*en In a position to besiege ,
the two doors of the room In which the
man was. But we could not penetrate
the boudoir except by way of the draw
ing room, the door of which had been
locked on the Inside by Milo. Stauger
son But even if I had had the free
disposition of the boudoir I should
have held to the plan I had formed,
because any other plan of attack would
have separated us at the moment of
the struggle with the man. while my
pl an united us all for the attack at a
B P°^ which I had selected with almost i
mathematical precision, the Intersec
tion of the two galleries.
"Having so placed my people. I
■gain left the chateau, hurried to r.iv
ladder and, rop/acing It. climbed up,
revolver iu hand.
"If there he auy inclined to smile at
my taking so many precautionary
measures I refer them to I lie mystery
of the yellow room and to all the
proofs we have of the weird cunning
of the murderer. Further, if there he
some who think my observations need
lessly minute at a moment when they
ought to he completely held by rapidi
ty of movement and decision of action
I reply that I have wished to report
here at length and completely all the
details of a plan of attack conceived
bo rapidly that it is only the slowness
of my pen that gives an appearance
of slowuess to the execution. I have
wished by this slowness and precision
to be certain that nothing should be
omitted from the conditions under
which the strange phenomenon was
produced, which, until some natural
explanation of it is forthcoming, seems
to me to prove, even better than the
theories of Professor Stangerson, the
dissociation of matter—I will even say
the instantaneous dissociation of mat
Strange Phenomenon of the Dis
sociation of Matter.
AM again at the window
sill," continues Rouletabille,
"and once more 1 raise my
head above it. Through an
opening iu the curtains, the arrange
ment of which has uot been changed,
lam ready to look, anxious to note the
position iu which I am going to find
the murderer, whether his hack will
Still be turned toward me, whether he
is still seated at the desk writing.
But perhaps—perhaps—he is no longer
there. Yet how could he have tied?
Was I uot iu possession of his ladder?
1 force myself to he cool. I raise my
head yet higher. I look—he is still
there. 1 see his monstrous back, de
formed 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.
j "1 hold my breath. I mount the lad
der. I urn on the uppermost rung of it
and with my left hand seize hold of
the window sill. In tins moment of
approaching success I feel my heart
j beating wildly. 1 put my revolver be
tween my teeth. A quick spring and
! I shall he on the window ledge. But
; the ladder! 1 had been obliged to press
on it heavily, and my foot had scarcely
j left it when 1 felt it swaying beneath
j me. It grated oil the wall and fell,
j But already my knees were touching
J the window sill, and by a movement
quick as lightning I got on to it.
"But the murderer had been even
quicker than 1 had been. He bad
| beard the grating of the ladder ou the
wall, and l 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 cham
ber was in darkness. 1 saw a man
with long hair, a full beard, wild look
ing eyes, a pale face framed in large
whiskers as well as I could distin
guish and as I think red in color. I
qjq uo t know the face. That was, in
brief, the chief sensation I received
frmn that face in the dim half light in
which I saw it. I did not know it, or
j a t least I did not recognize it.
| "Now for quick action. It was
deed time for that, for as I was about
to place my legs through the window
the man had seen me, had bounded tc
his feet, had sprung, as I foresaw lie
would, to the door of the antechamber,
had time to open it and fled. But 1
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 anteroom, for he had lost
time in opening the door to the gal
lery. I flew on wings and in the gal
lery was hut a few feet behind him.
He had taken, as .1 supposed he would,
the gallery on his right—that is to say,
the road he had prepared for his flight.
'Help, Jacques; help, Lursau'.' 1 cried.
He could not escape us. I raised a
shout of joy, of savage victory. The
man reached the intersection of the
two galleries hardly two seconds be
fore me for the meeting which I had
j prepared, the fatal shock which must
inevitably take place at that spot. We
all rushed to the crossing place— M.
Stangerson aud I coming from one end
of the right gallery, Daddy Jacques
coming from the other end of the gal
) er y and Frederic Larsan coming from
* 0 gf turning' gallery.
"The man was not there!
*<^- e looked at each other stupidly
and with eyes terrified. The man had
vanished like a ghost. 'Where is he,
where is he?' we all asked.
" qt is impossible he can have es
ca!>e d!' I cried, my terror mastered by
^ an?er
" T touched hirnf exclaimed Frederic
" T felt his breath on my facer cried
Daddy Jacques.
M here is he, where Is be. we all
"We juced like madmen aloe»
,- xVO ' pallerless. We'visited doors" and
CO uld not have passed through our
windows. They were closed— hermetic
ally closed. They had not been opened.
Besides, the opening of a door or win
dow by this man whom we wore hunt
ing without our having perceived it
would have been more inexplicable
than his disappearance.
"Where is he. where Is he? FTe
could not have got away by a door or
a window nor by any other way. He
"I confess that for the moment I felt
'done for,' for the gallery was perfect
ly lighted, and there was neither trap
nor secret door In the walls nor a«y
sort of hiding place. We moved the
chairs and lifted the pictures. Noth
ing. nothing! We would have looked
inti; a flowerpot if there had been one
to look into!"
When this mystery, thanks to Roule
tabille, was naturally explained by the
help alone of his masterful mind we
were able to realize that the murderer
had got away neither by a door, a win
dow nor the stairs, a fact which the
judges would uot admit.
The Inexplicable Gallery.
ed at the door of her ante
room," continues Rouleta
hille's notebook. "\Ve were
near tier door iu the gallery where this
incredible phenomenon hud taken
place. There are moments when one
feeLs as If one's brain were about to
burst. A bullet lu the head, a fracture
of the skull, the scat of reason shat
tered—with only these can 1 compare
the sensation which exhausted and left
me void of sense.
"Happily Mile. Stangerson appeared
on the threshold of her anteroom. I
saw her, and that helped to relieve my
chaotic state of mind. 1 breathed her;
I inhaled the perfume of the lady in
black who had been kind to me in
my childhood whom I should never
see again. 1 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 hut from time to
time, and yet, and yet, how the mem
ory of that perfume, felt by me alone,
carries me back to the days of my
childhood! It was this sharp reminder
from my beloved perfume of the lady
iu 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 hack of her neck, left visible the
red sear 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 1 had
imagined that on the night of the trag
edy iu the yellow room Mile. Stanger
son had worn her hair in hands. But,
then, how could I have imagined other
wise when I had not been in the yel
low room?
"But now, since the occurrence of
tlie inexplicable gallery, I did not rea
son at all. 1 stood there, stupid, before
the apparition—so pale and so beauti
ful—of Mile. Stangersou. 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 uot 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 toward us.
Mile. Stangersou inquired the meaning
oi all the disturbance. That she was
not iu her owu room was quite easily
explained—quite easily. She had a
taucy not to sleep that night iu her
chamber, hut iu the boudoir with her
nurses, locking the door on them. Since
the night of the crime she had experi
euced feelings of terror, and fears came
over her that are easily to he compre
"But who could imagine that on that
particular night when he was to come
she would by a mere chance determine
to shut herself in with her women?
Who would think that she would act
contrary to her father's wish to sleep
iu the drawing room? Who could be
lieve that the letter which had so re
cently been on the table in her room
would uo longer be there? He who
could understand all this would have
to assume that Mile. Stangerson knew
that the murderer was coming—she
could uot prevent his coming «gain
unknown to her father, unknown to all
but to M. Robert Darzac. For he must
know it now. Perhaps he had known
it before! Did he remember that
phrase iu the Ely see garden, 'Must I
commit a crime, then, to win you?'
Against whom the crime if uot against
the obstacle, against the murderer?
'Ah, I would kill him with my own
hand!' Aud I replied, 'You have uot
answered my question.' That was the
very truth. In truth, in truth, M. Dar
zac knew the murderer so well that,
while wishing to kill him himself, he
was afraid I should find him. There
could he but two reasons why he had
assisted me in my investigation. First,
because I have forced him to do it,
and, second, because she would he the
better protected.
'I am In the chamber—her room. I
look at her. also at the place where the
letter had just now been. She has poa
sessed herself of it; it was evidently
Intended for her—evidently. How she
trembles! Trembles at the strange
story her father is telling her, of the
presence of the murderer in her cham
ber and of *be pursuit. But it is plaln
ly to be seen that she is not wholly
satisfied by the assurance given her
I until she had been told that the
, murderer Bome incomprehensible
means had been able to elude us.
"Then followed a silence. What
silence! We are ail {Sere— looking at
her—her lather. Larsan. Daddy Jacques
and I. What wer» we all thinking of,
in the silence? After the events of
that night of the mystery of the inex
piicaMp. gallery, of the predigten« fact
of the presence of the murderer in her
room. It seemed to me that all our
thonghts might have been translated
Info the words which were addressed
to her. Won who know of this my a
tery. explain It to us and we shall |>er
haps be able to save you.' How I
longed b< save her—from herself and
from the other! It brought the tears
to m» eyes.
•Write can tell that, should we learn
th* secret of her mystery. |t would not
precipitate a tragedy more terrible
than that which had already been en
acted here? Who can tell if it might
not mean her death? Vet It had
brought her close to death, a ltd
still knew nothing, or. rather, there
are some of us who know nothing.
But l—if I knew who, 1 should know
all Who? Who? Not knowing who.
I must remain silent out of pity for
her. For there Is uo doubt that she
knows how he escaped from the yellow
room. When I know who 1 will speak
to him—to him!
"She looked at us now. with a far
away look In her eyes, as if we were
uot In the chamber. M. Stangerson
broke the silence. He declared that,
henceforth, he would no more absent
himself from his daughter's apart
ments. j>he ..tried to oppose him in
•s w.
* kwmh

■m ;
ill I'M
V !
[;• f vim' I
v »
vain. He adhered firmly 1° ids pur
pose. He would install himself there
tills very night, he said. Solely con
cerned for the health of his daughter,
he reproached her for having left her
bed. Then lie 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. Mile. Stangerson in a tone of
tender distress said, 'Father, father!'
Daddy Jacques blows his nose, and
Fredw . lc Larsan himself is obliged to
turn away to hide his emotion. I'or
myself, l am able neither to think or
feel. I felt a contempt for myself.
"It was the first time that Frederic
Larsan, like myself, found himself
fîiçe t0 f(K . 0 w jti, Mile. Stangerson
R ( tice t j, e „ttack in the yellow room
Fike , ne> j ie p a( j insisted on being al
j owed question the unhappy lady,
p ut he kad no t f an y more than had 1,
been permitted. To him, as to me, the
same answer had always been given:
Mile. Stangerson was too weak to re
ceive us. The questionings of the ex
amining magistrate had overfatigued
her. it was evidently intended not to
give us any assistance in our re
searches. I was not surprised, but
Frederic Larson had always resented
this conduct. It is true that he and I
had a totally different theory of the
crime. I still catch myself repeating
from the depths of my heart: 'Save
her! Save her without his speaking!'
Who is he—the murderer? Take him
and shut his mouth. But M. Darzac
made it clear that in order to shut his
mouth he must be killed. Have 1 the
right to kill Mile. Stangerson's mur
derer? No, I had not. But let him
[ only give me the chance! Let me find
j out whether he is really a creature of
| flesh and Mood! Let me see his dead
body, since it cannot be taken alive.
"If I could but make this woman,
who does not even look at us, under
stand! She is absorbed by her fears
and by her father's distress of mind.
And I can do nothing to save her. Yes,
I will go to work once more and ac
j compllsh wonders.
"I move toward her. I would speak
to her. I would entreat her to have
confidence in me. 1 would, in a word,
make her understand—she alone—that
I know how tbe murderer escaped
from the yellow room, that I have
guessed the motives for her secrecy,
and that I pity her with all my heart.
j But by her gestures she begged us to
leave her alone, expressing weariness
and the need for immediate rest. M.
»♦»„«.rann asked us to go t&zk tö_our
rooms and" tTTankcd us. "Pretfe'ric Lar
san and I bowed to him, and, followed
by Daddy Jacques, we regained the
gallery 1 beard Larsan murmur:
'Strange! Strange!' He made a sign
to me to go with him Into his room,
On the threshold he turned toward
Daddy Jacques.
"'Did you sea him distinctly?' ha
""The nwin.'
•• 'Saw him! Why. he had a big red
beard and red hair.'
" 'That's how he appeared to me,' 1
KJ , W
" 'And to me.' said Larsuu.
"The great Fred and 1 were alone
in his chamber now to talk over this
thing We talked for an hour, turn
lag the matter over and viewing It
j 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
Hie; 'he knows It well.'
" Tie Is a rather tall man. well
bullt,' I suggested.
" 'He Is as tall as be wants to be.'
murmured Fred.
" T understand,' 1 said. 'But how do
you account for his red hair and
"'Too rnueb beard, too much hair -
false' says Fred.
" 'That's easily said. You are al
ways thinking of Robert Darzac. You
can't get rid of that idea! I am cer
tain t Ha t he Is Innocent.'
" 'So much the better. I hope so,
but everything condemns him. Did
you notice the marks on the carpet?
Come and look at them.'
" T have seen them. They are the
marks of the neat boots the same as
those we saw on the border of the
"'Can you deny that they belong to
Robert Darzac?'
" 'Of course one may lie mistaken.'
" 'Have you noticed that those foot
prints only go in one direction, thnt
there are no return marks? When the
man came from the chamber, pursued
by all of us, ids footsteps left no traces
behind them.'
" 'II»" had perhaps been In the cham
ber for hours. The mud from ills lioots
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. Larsau 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!' 1 whisper.
"Prepared, I know not why, to be
lieve that the keeper iR the guilty man
I go to the door and rap smartly on It.
"Some might think that we were
rather late In thinking of the keeper,
since our first business, after having
found that the murderer had escaped
us in the gallery, ought to have been
to search everywhere else—around the
chateau, in the park—
I "Had tills criticism been made at the
time w© could only have answered that
the assassin had disappeared from the
gallery in such a way that we thought
he was no longer anywhere! He had
eluded us when we all had our hands
Stretched out ready to seize him—
when we were almost touching him.
We had no longer any ground for hop
ing that we could clear up the mys
tery of that night.
"As soon as I rapped at the door It
was opened, and the keeper asked ns
quietly what we wanted, H e was un
dressed arrfl preparing to an to bed.
The bed hafl net yet been disturbed.
"W* ewtsrod and T affected surprise.
" 'Net jww *• had yet?'
" 'Ne.' he »exiled roughly. T have
been maltha» a round of the pork and -
in the veg n Oa. I am er.iy just backh
and sloapy. Ceod night!' . .
" TAttfi,' i satfl 'An hour ago thqro
was a livMsr etese by your window.'...
" 'What ladder? 1 did not see any
ladder Good night!'
"And ba »Imply put ns out of the
room. Whan wo were outside I looked!
nt 1/firssn. His face was impenetra
fv««lahkiUt Has Dr «wn a Circle
Bet«««« the Two Uu.Dps on Bis
separated on the thresholds
of our rooms with a melan
choly shake of the hands.
Lnrsan's was an original
brain, very intelligent, but without
method. I did not go to bed. I await
ed Ui# coming of daylight and then
went down to the front of the chateau
and made a detour, examining every
trace of footsteps coming toward it or
going from it. These, however, were
so mixed and confusing that I could
make nothing of them. Here 1 may
make a remark—I am not accustomed
to nttach uu exaggerated importance
to exterior signs left in the track of a
"The method which traces the crim
inal by moans of the tracks of Ids foot
steps Is altogether primitive. So many
footprints are identical. However, in
the disturbed state of my mind ! did
go into the deserted court aud did look
at all the footprints I could find there,
seeking for some indication ns a basis
for reasoning.
"If I could but find a right starting
point! In despair I seated myself cm a
stone. For over an hour 1 busied my
self with the common, ordinary work
of a policeman. Like the least intelli
gent of detectives I went on blindly
over the traces of footprints which told
me just uo more than they could.
"I came to the conclusion that I was
a fool, lower in the scale of intelligence
than even the police of tlie modern ro
mancer. Novelists build mountains of
stupidity out of a footprint on the
sand or from an impression of a hand
on the wall. That's the way innocent
men are brought to prison. It might
convince an examining magistrate or
the head of a detective department, but
it's not proof. You writers forget that
what the senses furnish is not proof.
If I am taking cognizance of what is
offered me by my senses I do so hut
to bring the results within the circle
of my reason. That ein le may he the
most circumscribed, hut, if it is. it has
tills advantage- it holds nothing but
the truth! Yes, 1 swear that 1 have
never used the evidence of the senses
hut as servants to my reason. I have
never permitted them to become my
master. They have not mad
that monstrous thing- worse
blind man- h man who sees
And that is why I can triumph over
your error and your nu r. !v animal In
telligence. Frederic Larsan.
"Be of good courage, then. Friend
Rouletabille. It is impossible that the
incident of tlie inexplicable gallery
should he outside the circle of your
reason. You know that! Then have
failli and take thought with yourself
and forget uot that you took hold of
the right end when you drew that cir
cle in your brain within which to un
ravel this mysterious play of circum
"To it, once again! Go back to the
gallery. Take your stand on your
reason aud rest there as Frederic Lar
san rests on his cane. You will then
soon prove that the great Fred is noth
ing but a fool.— 30th October. Noon.
• of i
"I acted as I planned With head oq
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 ! had taken of my
reason drew me to something so impor
tant that 1 was obliged to cling to it to
save myself from falling.
"Now for the strength and patience
to find sensible traces to tit in with
my thinking—and these must come
within the circle I have drawn be
tween the two bumps on my forehead.
—80th October. Midnight.
I Rouletabille Invites Me to Break
fast at the Donjon Inn.
r was not until later that RouleU
tabille sent me the notebook
In which he had written at
length the story of the phe
nomenon of the inexplicable gallery.
On the day I arrived at the Glandier
and joined him iu his room he recount
ed to me, with the greatest detail, all
that I have related, telling me also
how he had spent several hours iu
Paris, where he had learned nothing
that could he of any help to him.
The event of the inexplicable gal
lery lmd occurred on the night between
the 20th and 30th of October—that 1»
to say, three days before my return to
the chateau. It was on the 2d of
November, then, that 1 went back to
the Glandier, summoned there by my
friend's telegram and taking the re
volvers with me.
I am now in Rouletabille's room, and
he has finished his recital.
While he had been telling me th»
■tory I noticed him continually rubbing
tbs glass of the eyeglasses he had
found pn the side table. From the evlr
(Continued on Page 8)

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