Part 29 (1/2)

”This young man,” went on Monsieur de Marquet, ”affirms that he saw you get off the train at Epinay-sur-Orge-”

”That night,” said Monsieur Darzac, interrupting, ”at half-past ten-it is quite true.”

An interval of silence followed.

”Monsieur Darzac,” the magistrate went on in a tone of deep emotion, ”Monsieur Darzac, what were you doing that night, at Epinay-sur-Orge-at that time?”

Monsieur Darzac remained silent, simply closing his eyes.

”Monsieur Darzac,” insisted Monsieur de Marquet, ”can you tell me how you employed your time, that night?”

Monsieur Darzac opened his eyes. He seemed to have recovered his self-control.

”No, Monsieur.”

”Think, Monsieur! For, if you persist in your strange refusal, I shall be under the painful necessity of keeping you at my disposition.”

”I refuse.”

”Monsieur Darzac!-in the name of the law, I arrest you!”

The magistrate had no sooner p.r.o.nounced the words than I saw Rouletabille move quickly towards Monsieur Darzac. He would certainly have spoken to him, but Darzac, by a gesture, held him off. As the gendarme approached his prisoner, a despairing cry rang through the room:

”Robert!-Robert!”

We recognised the voice of Mademoiselle Stangerson. We all shuddered. Larsan himself turned pale. Monsieur Darzac, in response to the cry, had flown back into the room.

The magistrate, the gendarme, and Larsan followed closely after. Rouletabille and I remained on the threshold. It was a heart-breaking sight that met our eyes. Mademoiselle Stangerson, with a face of deathly pallor, had risen on her bed, in spite of the restraining efforts of two doctors and her father. She was holding out her trembling arms towards Robert Darzac, on whom Larsan and the gendarme had laid hands. Her distended eyes saw-she understood-her lips seemed to form a word, but n.o.body made it out; and she fell back insensible.

Monsieur Darzac was hurried out of the room and placed in the vestibule to wait for the vehicle Larsan had gone to fetch. We were all overcome by emotion and even Monsieur de Marquet had tears in his eyes. Rouletabille took advantage of the opportunity to say to Monsieur Darzac:

”Are you going to put in any defense?”

”No!” replied the prisoner.

”Very well, then I will, Monsieur.”

”You cannot do it,” said the unhappy man with a faint smile.

”I can-and I will.”

Rouletabille's voice had in it a strange strength and confidence.

”I can do it, Monsieur Robert Darzac, because I know more than you do!”

”Come! Come!” murmured Darzac, almost angrily.