The Mystery of the Yellow Room

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 me to the grotto of Sainte-Genevieve, and, all

  the time, talked of every subject but the one in which we were most

  interested. Towards evening I was surprised to find Rouletabille

  making none of the preparations I had expected him to make. I spoke

  to him about it when night had come on, and we were once more in his

  room. He replied that all his arrangements had already been made,

  and this time the murderer would not get away from him.

  I expressed some doubt on this, reminding him of his disappearance

  in the gallery, and suggested that the same phenomenon might occur

  again. He answered that he hoped it would. He desired nothing more.

  I did not insist, knowing by experience how useless that would have

  been. He told me that, with the help of the concierges, the chateau

  had since early dawn been watched in such a way that nobody could

  approach it without his knowing it, and that he had no concern for

  those who might have left it and remained without.

  It was then six o'clock by his watch. Rising, he made a sign to

  me to follow him, and, without in the least tying to conceal his

  movements or the sound of his footsteps, he led me through the

  gallery. We reached the 'right' gallery and came to the

  landing-place which we crossed. We then continued our way in the

  gallery of the left wing, passing Professor Stangerson's apartment.

  At the far end of the gallery, before coming to the donjon, is the

  room occupied by Arthur Rance. We knew that, because we had seen

  him at the window looking on to the court. The door of the room

  opens on to the end of the gallery, exactly facing the east window,

  at the extremity of the 'right' gallery, where Rouletabille had

  placed Daddy Jacques, and commands an uninterrupted view of the

  gallery from end to end of the chateau.

  "That 'off-turning' gallery," said Rouletabille, "I reserve for

  myself; when I tell you you'll come and take your place here."

  And he made me enter a little dark, triangular closet built in a

  bend of the wall, to the left of the door of Arthur Rance's room.

  From this recess I could see all that occurred in the gallery as

  well as if I had been standing in front of Arthur Rance's door,

  and I could watch that door, too. The door of the closet, which

  was to be my place of observation, was fitted with panels of

  transparent glass. In the gallery, where all the lamps had been

  lit, it was quite light. In the closet, however, it was quite

  dark. It was a splendid place from which to observe and remain

  unobserved.

  I was soon to play the part of a spy--a common policeman. I

  wonder what my leader at the bar would have said had he known! I

  was not altogether pleased with my duties, but I could not refuse

  Rouletabille the assistance he had begged me to give him. I took

  care not to make him see that I in the least objected, and for

  several reasons. I wanted to oblige him; I did not wish him to

  think me a coward; I was filled with curiosity; and it was too late

  for me to draw back, even had I determined to do so. That I had

  not had these scruples sooner was because my curiosity had quite

  got the better of me. I might also urge that I was helping to

  save the life of a woman, and even a lawyer may do that

  conscientiously.

  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.

  CHAPTER XXI

  On the Watch

  The act, which staggered me, did not appear to affect Rouletabille

  much. We returned to his room and, without even referring to what

  we had seen, he gave me his final instructions for the night. First

  we were to go to dinner; after dinner, I was to take my stand in the

  dark closet and wait there as long as it was necessary--to look out

  for what might happen.

  "If you see anything before I do," he explained, "you must let me

  know. If the man gets into the 'right' gallery by any other way

  than the 'off-turning' gallery, you will see him before I shall,

  because you have a view along the whole length of the 'right'

  gallery, while I can only command a view of the 'off-turning'

  gallery. All you need do to let me know is to undo the cord holding

  the curtain of the 'right' gallery window, nearest to the dark

  closet. The curtain will fall of itself and immediately leave a

  square of shadow where previously there had been a square of light.

  To do this, you need but stretch your hand out of the closet, I

  shall understand your signal perfectly."

  "And then?"

  "Then you will see me coming round the corner of the 'off-turning'

  gallery."

  "What am I to do then?"

  "You will immediately come towards me, behind the man; but I shall

  already be upon him, and shall have seen his face."

  I attempted a feeble smile.

  "Why do you smile? Well, you may smile while you have the chance,

  but I swear you'll have no time for that a few hours from now.

  "And if the man escapes?"

  "So much the better," said Rouletabille, coolly, "I don't want to

  capture him. He may take himself off any way he can. I will let

  him go--after I have seen his face. That's all I want. I shall

  know afterwards what to do so that as far as Mademoiselle Stangerson

  is concerned he shall be dead to her even though he continues to

  live. If I took him alive, Mademoiselle Stangerson and Robert

  Darzac would, perhaps, never forgive me! And I wish to retain their

  good-will and respect.

  "Seeing, as I have just now seen, Mademoiselle Stangerson pour a

  narcotic into her father's glass, so that he might not be awake to

  interrupt the conversation she is going to have with her murderer,

  you can imagine she would not be grateful to me if I brought the

  man of The Yellow Room and the inexplicab
le gallery, bound and gagged,

  to her father. I realise now that if I am to save the unhappy lady,

  I must silence the man and not capture him. To kill a human being

  is no small thing. Besides, that's not my business, unless the

  man himself makes it my business. On the other hand, to render him

  forever silent without the lady's assent and confidence is to act

  on one's own initiative and assumes a knowledge of everything with

  nothing for a basis. Fortunately, my friend, I have guessed, no,

  I have reasoned it all out. All that I ask of the man who is coming

  to-night is to bring me his face, so that it may enter--"

  "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, arranged to have no nurses to-night. She gave them leave of

  absence for twenty-four hours, under some plausible pretexts, and

  did not desire anybody to be with her but her father, while they

  are away. Her father, who is to sleep in the boudoir, has gladly

  consented to the arrangement. Darzac's departure and what he told

  me, as well as the extraordinary precautions Mademoiselle Stangerson

  is taking to be alone to-night leaves me no room for doubt. She has

  prepared the way for the coming of the man whom Darzac dreads."

  "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 haven'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 Stangerson's secrets?--Come, let us go to dinner;

  it is time. This evening we dine in Frederic Larsan's room,--at

  least, if he is not on the heels of Darzac. He sticks to him like

  a leech. But, anyhow, if he is not there now, I am quite sure he

  will be, to-night! He's the one I am going to knock over!"

  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 just

  come in and invited us to be seated at table. We ate our dinner in

  the best of humours, and I had no difficulty in appreciating the

  feelings of certainty which both Rouletabille and Larsan felt.

  Rouletabille told the great Fred that I had come on a chance visit,

  and that he had asked me to stay and help him in the heavy batch of

  writing he had to get through for the "Epoque." I was going back

  to Paris, he said, by the eleven o'clock train, taking his "copy,"

  which took a story form, recounting the principal episodes in the

  mysteries of the Glandier. Larsan smiled at the explanation like

  a man who was not fooled and politely refrains from making the

  slightest remark on matters which did not concern him.

  With infinite precautions as to the words they used, and even as to

  the tones of their voices, Larsan and Rouletabille discussed, for a

  long time, Mr. Arthur Rance's appearance at the chateau, and his

  past in America, about which they expressed a desire to know more,

  at any rate, so far as his relations with the Stangersons. At one

  time, Larsan, who appeared to me to be unwell, said, with an effort:

  "I think, Monsieur Rouletabille, that we've not much more to do at

  the Glandier, and that we sha'n't sleep here many more nights."

  "I think so, too, Monsieur Fred."

  "Then you think the conclusion of the matter has been reached?"

  "I think, indeed, that we have nothing more to find out," replied

  Rouletabille.

  "Have you found your criminal?" asked Larsan.

  "Have you?"

  "Yes."

  "So have I," said Rouletabille.

  "Can it be the same man?"

  "I don't know if you have swerved from your original idea," said

  the young reporter. Then he added, with emphasis: "Monsieur Darzac

  is an honest man!"

  "Are you sure of that?" asked Larsan. "Well, I am sure he is not.

  So it's a fight then?"

  "Yes, it is a fight. But I shall beat you, Monsieur Frederic Larsan."

  "Youth never doubts anything," said the great Fred laughingly, and

  held out his hand to me by way of conclusion.

  Rouletabille's answer came like an echo:

  "Not anything!"

  Suddenly Larsan, who had risen to wish us goodnight, pressed both

  his hands to his chest and staggered. He was obliged to lean on

  Rouletabille for support, and to save himself from falling.

  "Oh! Oh!" he cried. "What is the matter with me?--Have I been

  poisoned?"

  He looked at us with haggard eyes. We questioned him vainly; he

  did not answer us. He had sunk into an armchair and we could get

  not a word from him. We were extremely distressed, both on his

  account and on our own, for we had partaken of all the dishes he had

  eaten. He seemed to be out of pain; but his heavy head had fallen

  on his shoulder and his eyelids were tightly closed. Rouletabille

  bent over him, listening for the beatings of the heart.

  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 dru
gged?"

  "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 Monsieur Darzac had given him,

  while he lit his briarwood--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 signalled to

  me to do the same. As we stood in our socks he said, in so low a

  tone that I guessed, rather than heard, the word:

  "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.

  Astonished by his embrace, and somewhat disquieted by it, I arrived

  at the right gallery without difficulty, crossing the landing-place,

  and reaching the dark closet.

  Before entering it I examined the curtain-cord of the window and

  found that I had only to release it from its fastening with my

  fingers for the curtain to fall by its own weight and hide the

  square of light from Rouletabille--the signal agreed upon. The

  sound of a footstep made me halt before Arthur Rance's door. He

  was not yet in bed, then! How was it that, being in the chateau,

  he had not dined with Monsieur Stangerson and his daughter? I had

  not seen him at table with them, at the moment when we looked in.

  I retired into the dark closet. I found myself perfectly situated.

  I could see along the whole length of the gallery. Nothing,

  absolutely nothing could pass there without my seeing it. But what

  was going to pass there? Rouletabille's embrace came back to my

  mind. I argued that people don't part from each, other in that way

  unless on an important or dangerous occasion. Was I then in danger?

  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

  behind 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 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,