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Updated: May 6, 2025
And laughing a little, in a slightly bantering tone, his hands in his pockets, Rouletabille fixed his cunning eyes on the great Fred. Frederic Larsan silently contemplated the young reporter who pretended to be as wise as himself. Shrugging his shoulders, he bowed to us and moved quickly away, hitting the stones on his path with his stout cane.
He waited till I was asleep, and my friend Sainclair was busy trying to rouse me. Ten minutes after that Mademoiselle was calling out, "Murder!" "How did you come to suspect Larsan?" asked the President. "My pure reason pointed to him. That was why I watched him. But I did not foresee the drugging. He is very cunning.
He left at about four o'clock and has not been seen since." "That is my proof!" cried Rouletabille, triumphantly. "Explain yourself?" demanded the President. "My proof is Larsan's flight," said the young reporter. "He will not come back. You will see no more of Frederic Larsan." "Unless you are playing with the court, Monsieur, why did you not accuse him when he was present?
He would then have answered you." "He could give no other answer than the one he has now given by his flight." "We cannot believe that Larsan has fled. There was no reason for his doing so. Did he know you'd make this charge?" "He did. I told him I would." "Do you mean to say that knowing Larsan was the murderer you gave him the opportunity to escape?"
'An hour or so ago, there was a ladder close by your window. "'What ladder? I did not see any ladder. Good-night! "And he simply put us out of the room. When we were outside I looked at Larsan. His face was impenetrable. "'Well? I said. "'Well? he repeated. "'Does that open out any new view to you? "There was no mistaking Larsan's bad temper.
Of course he had to make it appear as if he also had been drugged so that no suspicion should fall on him for my condition. Had I not been thus overpowered, Larsan would never have entered Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber that night, and the attack on her would not have taken place." A groan came from Darzac, who appeared to be unable to control his suffering.
Perhaps a thought of blackmail occurred to him as a useful possibility in helping him in his designs on Mademoiselle Stangerson. He quickly made a parcel of the papers and took it to the lavatory in the vestibule. Between the time of his first examination of the pavilion and the night of the murder of the keeper, Larsan had had time to find out what those papers contained.
"'It is impossible he can have escaped! I cried, my terror mastered by my anger. "'I touched him! exclaimed Frederic Larsan. "'I felt his breath on my face! cried Daddy Jacques. "'Where is he? where is he? we all cried. "We raced like madmen along the two galleries; we visited doors and windows they were closed, hermetically closed. They had not been opened.
"The concierges will not be able to give you any information, Monsieur Rouletabille." "Why not?" "Because they were arrested half an hour ago." "Arrested!" cried Rouletabille; "then they are the murderers!" Frederic Larsan shrugged his shoulders. "When you can't arrest the real murderer," he said with an air of supreme irony, "you can always indulge in the luxury of discovering accomplices."
"On coming there, he would see on his left, Monsieur Stangerson; he would turn to the right, towards the 'off-turning' gallery the way he had pre-arranged for flight, where, at the intersection of the two galleries, he would see at once, as I have explained, on his left, Frederic Larsan at the end of the 'off-turning' gallery, and in front, Daddy Jacques, at the end of the 'right' gallery.
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