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Updated: June 18, 2025
The fact that Monsieur Darzac was with her in the Grands Magasins de la Louvre when the reticule disappeared could not pass unnoticed, and, it must be said, strongly awakened our interest. This conversation between magistrates, accused, victim, witnesses and journalist, was coming to a close when quite a theatrical sensation an incident of a kind displeasing to Monsieur de Marquet was produced.
At what hour exactly he entered, whether in the afternoon or in the evening, I cannot say. One familiar with the proceedings and persons of this pavilion could choose his own time for entering The Yellow Room." "He could not have entered it if anybody had been in the laboratory," said Monsieur de Marquet. "How do we know that?" replied Larsan.
"Very well," said Monsieur de Marquet; "then we'll go to him." Monsieur de Marquet and the gendarme mounted the stairs. He made a sign to Larsan and the railroad employe to follow. Rouletabille and I went along too. On reaching the door of Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber, Monsieur de Marquet knocked. A chambermaid appeared.
Rouletabille then said to me: "You must know, my friend, that the inquiry is a little more advanced than Monsieur de Marquet has chosen to tell us. He not only knows that Mademoiselle Stangerson defended herself with the revolver, but he knows what the weapon was that was used to attack her. Monsieur Darzac tells me it was a mutton-bone.
Why is Monsieur de Marquet surrounding this mutton-bone with so much mystery? No doubt for the purpose of facilitating the inquiries of the agents of the Surete? He imagines, perhaps, that the owner of this instrument of crime, the most terrible invented, is going to be found amongst those who are well-known in the slums of Paris who use it.
Je connais l'atelier de Marquet, Madame, en marge de l'Atelier où l'on esthétise, où l'on fabrique les manifestes et les novateurs de génie. Marquet garde son rôle de peintre. Il n'est guère pour lui de souci plus sérieux que le souci de sa liberté.
Such are the inevitable consequences of conventionality: and French conventionality is, in its turn, the inevitable consequence of a civilization so gracious and attractive that even the most lawless of its children cannot bear to appear disloyal. The best picture by Marquet I ever saw was in the Grafton Gallery exhibition of 1912. It represented a naked woman sitting in a rocking-chair.
"Poor Robert!" continued the young reporter, "this dreadful affair may be his death, he is so deeply in love with Mademoiselle Stangerson." "His sufferings are truly painful to witness," escaped like a regret from the lips of Monsieur de Marquet. "But it is to be hoped that Mademoiselle Stangerson's life will be saved." "Let us hope so.
But, instead of cakes, he gave him with his whip such a rude lash overthwart the legs, that the marks of the whipcord knots were apparent in them, then would have fled away; but Forgier cried out as loud as he could, O, murder, murder, help, help, help! and in the meantime threw a great cudgel after him, which he carried under his arm, wherewith he hit him in the coronal joint of his head, upon the crotaphic artery of the right side thereof, so forcibly, that Marquet fell down from his mare more like a dead than living man.
"But what robbery? Where do you see any signs of robbery? What proves to you that a robbery has been committed?" we all cried at once. "What put me on the trace of it," continued the journalist... "Was this?" interrupted Monsieur de Marquet, still on his knees. "Evidently," said Rouletabille.
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