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Updated: May 6, 2025
Larsan neglected nothing in any case on which he was engaged. I turned my eyes again on Rouletabille. "Ah, Monsieur Fred!" he said, "when did you begin to use a walking-stick? I have always seen you walking with your hands in your pockets!" "It is a present," replied the detective. "Recent?" insisted Rouletabille. "No, it was given to me in London."
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.
We all of us felt grieved for the illustrious professor, driven into a corner by the pitiless logic of Frederic Larsan, forced to confess the whole truth of his martyrdom or to keep silent, and thus make a yet more terrible admission. The man himself, a veritable statue of sorrow, raised his hand with a gesture so solemn that we bowed our heads to it as before something sacred.
In America he had learned who Larsan was and had obtained information which closed his mouth. He had been to Philadelphia. And now, what was this mystery which held Mademoiselle Stangerson and Monsieur Robert Darzac in so inexplicable a silence?
Frederic Larsan, no more than myself, could retain his gravity. Meanwhile, standing on the other side of the gate, he calmly put the key in his pocket. I closely scrutinised him. He might be about fifty years of age. He had a fine head, his hair turning grey; a colourless complexion, and a firm profile. His forehead was prominent, his chin and cheeks clean shaven.
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."
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.
I was not satisfied with the evidence I had obtained. I wished to see the man's face. Had I refrained from this, the second terrible attack would not have occurred." "But," asked the President, "why should Larsan go to Mademoiselle Stangerson's room, at all? Why should he twice attempt to murder her?" "Because he loves her, Monsieur President." "That is certainly a reason, but-"
See, just in front of the little path leading to the lake, that was his nearest way to get out." "How do you know he went to the lake?" "Because Frederic Larsan has not quitted the borders of it since this morning. There must be some important marks there." A few minutes later we reached the lake.
He smiled at her and seemed not to know either what he said or what he did. The illustrious professor had lost his head. Mademoiselle Stangerson in a tone of tender distress said: 'Father! father! Daddy Jacques blows his nose, and Frederic Larsan himself is obliged to turn away to hide his emotion. For myself, I am able neither to think or feel. I felt an infinite contempt for myself.
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