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Updated: May 5, 2025
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 disentangle for us to-morrow.
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 monster, I tell you. Ah!
Slamming the door behind him, the innkeeper left the room. Mother Angenoux was still standing, 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.
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, appeared on the threshold. "Ah! there you are, Mother Angenoux! It's long since we saw you last," said our host.
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 particularly sinister cry which is uttered sometimes at night by the cat of an old woman, Mother Angenoux, as she is called in the country.
What did it mean, then that imitating of the mewing of Mother Angenoux' cat so near the chateau? I seized a good-sized stick, the only weapon I had, and, without making any noise, opened the door. "The gallery into which I went was well lit by a lamp with a reflector.
"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.
"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.
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."
She gave him morphine to ease his pain and to give herself more time for the meetings. Madame Mathieu came to the chateau that night, enveloped in a large black shawl which served also as a disguise. This was the phantom that disturbed Daddy Jacques. She knew how to imitate the mewing of Mother Angenoux' cat and she would make the cries to advise the keeper of her presence.
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