Part 9 (1/2)

”Oh, you are very clever,” said Daddy Jacques, coughing and embarra.s.sed.

”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, trying 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 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 working in The Yellow Room?

”No,” replied Robert Darzac, who, since Rouletabille had handed him the piece of scorched paper, had not uttered a word, ”He pretends that he does not need to examine The Yellow Room. He says that the murderer made his escape from it in quite a natural way, and that he will, this evening, explain how he did it.”

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 antic.i.p.ate 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. ”Aren't you satisfied?”

”Yes,” he confessed to me, with a deep sigh. ”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.

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, evidently 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 pa.s.sed 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 questioned, had thought it his duty to inform the examining magistrate of this, who decided to proceed immediately with a brief examination. At this examination, the Registrar, Monsieur Stangerson, and the doctor were present. Later, I obtained the text of the report of the examination, and I give it here, in all its legal dryness:

”Question. Are you able, mademoiselle, without too much fatiguing yourself, to give some necessary details of the frightful attack of which you have been the victim?

”Answer. I feel much better, monsieur, and I will tell you all I know. When I entered my chamber I did not notice anything unusual there.