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Updated: September 28, 2025
How could it be thought that this man, who was to have married Mademoiselle Stangerson in the course of a few days, had introduced himself into The Yellow Room to assassinate his fiancee?
Now that the Mystery of The Yellow Room has been cleared up, this is not the time to tell of Rouletabille's adventures in America. Knowing the young reporter as we do, we can understand with what acumen he had traced, step by step, the story of Mathilde Stangerson and Jean Roussel. At Philadelphia he had quickly informed himself as to Arthur William Rance.
And, indeed, he must have been at his wits' end, to have come to me at such a time, and to abandon Mademoiselle Stangerson in spite of his fixed idea as to the consequence. "When he was gone, I began to think that I should have to use even a greater cunning than his so that if the man should come that night, he might not for a moment suspect that his coming had been expected. Certainly!
"Nothing, I have found the whole of the story it tells equally strange." "Well, but the locked door with the key on the inside?" "That's the only perfectly natural thing in the whole article." "Really! And the bolt?" "The bolt?" "Yes, the bolt also inside the room a still further protection against entry? Mademoiselle Stangerson took quite extraordinary precautions!
Monsieur Stangerson looking many years older and almost unrecognisable Larsan, Arthur Rance, with his face ruddy as ever, Daddy Jacques, Daddy Mathieu, who was brought into court handcuffed between two gendarmes, Madame Mathieu, in tears, the two Berniers, the two nurses, the steward, all the domestics of the chateau, the employe of the Paris Post Office, the railway employe from Epinay, some friends of Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson, and all Monsieur Darzac's witnesses.
His head was bent down, he had his hands in his pockets, and he was whistling. After a while I heard him murmur: "Poor woman!" "Is it Mademoiselle Stangerson you are pitying?" "Yes; she's a noble woman and worthy of being pitied! a woman of a great, a very great character I imagine I imagine." "You know her then?" "Not at all. I have never seen her."
I had already arrived at the conclusion, by steps of which I will tell you later that the assassin had had no accomplice, and that the tragedy held a mystery between Mademoiselle Stangerson and the murderer, a mystery with which the concierges had nothing to do. "With that theory in my mind, I searched for proof in their lodge, which, as you know, I entered.
What was the instinct that urged me towards Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber? Why did a voice within me cry: 'Go on, to the chamber of Mademoiselle Stangerson! I cast my eyes down upon the carpet on which I was treading and saw that my steps were being directed towards Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber by the marks of steps that had already been made there.
Monsieur Darzac, whose pallor at that moment seemed to me to be altogether abnormal, made a sign of assent. I gathered he was unable to speak. "I want you to know then," continued Monsieur Stangerson, "that my daughter has sworn never to leave me, and adheres firmly to her oath, in spite of all my prayers and all that I have argued to induce her to marry.
The reporter answered in an equally sharp tone: "To shake you by the hand." Darzac shrank back. "What does that mean?" Evidently he understood, what I also understood, that my friend suspected him of the abominable attempt on the life of Mademoiselle Stangerson. The impression of the blood-stained hand on the walls of The Yellow Room was in his mind. I looked at the man closely.
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