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Updated: June 11, 2025
But who can ever say what passes through the brain of an examining magistrate?" Rouletabille added with contemptuous irony. "Has a mutton-bone been found in The Yellow Room?" I asked him. "Yes, Monsieur," said Robert Darzac, "at the foot of the bed; but I beg of you not to say anything about it." It was an old bone, which may, according to appearances, have served in other crimes.
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!"
"What do you mean by that?" asked Monsieur Darzac, who had followed us and listened with almost breathless attention to all that Rouletabille had said. "I'll explain all to you later on, Monsieur, when I think the moment to be ripe for doing so; but I don't think I have anything of more importance to say on this affair, if my hypothesis is justified." "And what is your hypothesis?"
Her strong physique, however, saved her; but though she recovered physically it was found that her mind had been affected. The slightest allusion to the terrible incident sent her into delirium, and the arrest of Robert Darzac which followed on the day following the tragic death of the keeper seemed to sink her fine intelligence into complete melancholia.
The court-room became immediately filled with loud and indignant protests. So astonished was he that the President did not attempt to quiet it. The quick silence which followed was broken by the distinctly whispered words from the lips of Robert Darzac: "It's impossible! He's mad!" "You dare to accuse Frederic Larsan, Monsieur?" asked the President. "If you are not mad, what are your proofs?"
But I must make haste about it, for he has an enormous start on me given him by Monsieur Robert Darzac, who is this evening going to increase it still more. Think of it! every time the murderer comes to the chateau, Monsieur Darzac, by a strange fatality, absents himself and refuses to give any account of how he employs his time." "Every time the assassin comes to the chateau!" I cried.
"But in what way can I be of any use to you?" "Monsieur Robert Darzac is at the Chateau du Glandier." "That's true. His despair must be boundless." "I must have a talk with him." Rouletabille said it in a tone that surprised me. "Is it because you think there is something to be got out of him?" I asked. "Yes." That was all he would say. He retired to my sitting-room, begging me to dress quickly.
She had told Darzac that if her father should know of her dishonour, she would kill herself. Monsieur Darzac had sworn to silence her persecutor, even if he had to kill him. He was outwitted and would have succumbed had it not been for the genius of Rouletabille. Mademoiselle Stangerson was herself helpless in the hands of such a villain.
I followed him. It was, I confess, in a state of great excitement. Robert Darzac lost none of my friend's movements. As for me, my eyes were drawn at once to the door of The Yellow Room. It was closed and, as I immediately saw, partially shattered and out of commission. My friend, who went about his work methodically, silently studied the room in which we were. It was large and well-lighted.
This man who, four years ago, introduced himself to the Surete, and became celebrated as Frederic Larsan, is notorious under another name a name well known to crime. Frederic Larsan, Monsieur President, is Ballmeyer!" "Ballmeyer!" cried the President. "Ballmeyer!" exclaimed Robert Darzac, springing to his feet. "Ballmeyer! It was true, then!" "Ah!
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