Le mystère de la chambre jaune. English Page 5

  CHAPTER V. In Which Joseph Rouletabille Makes a Remark to MonsieurRobert Darzac Which Produces Its Little Effect

  Rouletabille and I had been walking for several minutes, by the side ofa long wall bounding the vast property of Monsieur Stangerson and hadalready come within sight of the entrance gate, when our attention wasdrawn to an individual who, half bent to the ground, seemed to be socompletely absorbed in what he was doing as not to have seen us comingtowards him. At one time he stooped so low as almost to touch theground; at another he drew himself up and attentively examined the wall;then he looked into the palm of one of his hands, and walked away withrapid strides. Finally he set off running, still looking into the palmof his hand. Rouletabille had brought me to a standstill by a gesture.

  "Hush! Frederic Larsan is at work! Don't let us disturb him!"

  Rouletabille had a great admiration for the celebrated detective. I hadnever before seen him, but I knew him well by reputation. At that time,before Rouletabille had given proof of his unique talent, Larsan wasreputed as the most skilful unraveller of the most mysterious andcomplicated crimes. His reputation was world-wide, and the police ofLondon, and even of America, often called him in to their aid when theirown national inspectors and detectives found themselves at the end oftheir wits and resources.

  No one was astonished, then, that the head of the Surete had, at theoutset of the mystery of The Yellow Room, telegraphed his precioussubordinate to London, where he had been sent on a big case of stolensecurities, to return with all haste. Frederic who, at the Surete, wascalled the "great Frederic," had made all speed, doubtless knowing byexperience that, if he was interrupted in what he was doing, it wasbecause his services were urgently needed in another direction; so, asRouletabille said, he was that morning already "at work." We soon foundout in what it consisted.

  What he was continually looking at in the palm of his right hand wasnothing but his watch, the minute hand of which he appeared to be notingintently. Then he turned back still running, stopping only when hereached the park gate, where he again consulted his watch and thenput it away in his pocket, shrugging his shoulders with a gesture ofdiscouragement. He pushed open the park gate, reclosed and locked it,raised his head and, through the bars, perceived us. Rouletabille rushedafter him, and I followed. Frederic Larsan waited for us.

  "Monsieur Fred," said Rouletabille, raising his hat and showing theprofound respect, based on admiration, which the young reporter feltfor the celebrated detective, "can you tell me whether Monsieur RobertDarzac is at the chateau at this moment? Here is one of his friends, ofthe Paris Bar, who desires to speak with him."

  "I really don't know, Monsieur Rouletabille," replied Fred, shakinghands with my friend, whom he had several times met in the course of hisdifficult investigations. "I have not seen him."

  "The concierges will be able to inform us no doubt?" said Rouletabille,pointing to the lodge the door and windows of which were close shut.

  "The concierges will not be able to give you any information, MonsieurRouletabille."

  "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 ofsupreme irony, "you can always indulge in the luxury of discoveringaccomplices."

  "Did you have them arrested, Monsieur Fred?"

  "Not I!--I haven't had them arrested. In the first place, I am prettysure that they have not had anything to do with the affair, and thenbecause--"

  "Because of what?" asked Rouletabille eagerly.

  "Because of nothing," said Larsan, shaking his head.

  "Because there were no accomplices!" said Rouletabille.

  "Aha!--you have an idea, then, about this matter?" said Larsan, lookingat Rouletabille intently, "yet you have seen nothing, young man--youhave not yet gained admission here!"

  "I shall get admission."

  "I doubt it. The orders are strict."

  "I shall gain admission, if you let me see Monsieur Robert Darzac. Dothat for me. You know we are old friends. I beg of you, Monsieur Fred.Do you remember the article I wrote about you on the gold bar case?"

  The face of Rouletabille at the moment was really funny to look at. Itshowed such an irresistible desire to cross the threshold beyondwhich some prodigious mystery had occurred; it appealed with so mucheloquence, not only of the mouth and eyes, but with all its features,that I could not refrain from bursting into laughter. Frederic Larsan,no more than myself, could retain his gravity. Meanwhile, standingon the other side of the gate, he calmly put the key in his pocket. Iclosely scrutinised him.

  He might be about fifty years of age. He had a fine head, his hairturning grey; a colourless complexion, and a firm profile. His foreheadwas prominent, his chin and cheeks clean shaven. His upper lip, withoutmoustache, was finely chiselled. His eyes were rather small and round,with a look in them that was at once searching and disquieting. He wasof middle height and well built, with a general bearing elegant andgentlemanly. There was nothing about him of the vulgar policeman. Inhis way, he was an artist, and one felt that he had a high opinion ofhimself. The sceptical tone of his conversation was that of a man whohad been taught by experience. His strange profession had brought himinto contact with so many crimes and villanies that it would have beenremarkable if his nature had not been a little hardened.

  Larsan turned his head at the sound of a vehicle which had come from thechateau and reached the gate behind him. We recognised the cab which hadconveyed the examining magistrate and his Registrar from the station atEpinay.

  "Ah!" said Frederic Larsan, "if you want to speak with Monsieur RobertDarzac, he is here."

  The cab was already at the park gate and Robert Darzac was beggingFrederic Larsan to open it for him, explaining that he was pressedfor time to catch the next train leaving Epinay for Paris. Then herecognised me. While Larsan was unlocking the gate, Monsieur Darzacinquired what had brought me to the Glandier at such a tragic moment. Inoticed that he was frightfully pale, and that his face was lined as iffrom the effects of some terrible suffering.

  "Is Mademoiselle getting better?" I immediately asked.

  "Yes," he said. "She will be saved perhaps. She must be saved!"

  He did not add "or it will be my death"; but I felt that the phrasetrembled on his pale lips.

  Rouletabille intervened:

  "You are in a hurry, Monsieur; but I must speak with you. I havesomething of the greatest importance to tell you."

  Frederic Larsan interrupted:

  "May I leave you?" he asked of Robert Darzac. "Have you a key, or do youwish me to give you this one."

  "Thank you. I have a key and will lock the gate."

  Larsan hurried off in the direction of the chateau, the imposing pile ofwhich could be perceived a few hundred yards away.

  Robert Darzac, with knit brow, was beginning to show impatience. Ipresented Rouletabille as a good friend of mine, but, as soon ashe learnt that the young man was a journalist, he looked at me veryreproachfully, excused himself, under the necessity of having toreach Epinay in twenty minutes, bowed, and whipped up his horse. ButRouletabille had seized the bridle and, to my utter astonishment,stopped the carriage with a vigorous hand. Then he gave utterance to asentence which was utterly meaningless to me.

  "The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden itsbrightness."

  The words had no sooner left the lips of Rouletabille than I saw RobertDarzac quail. Pale as he was, he became paler. His eyes were fixed onthe young man in terror, and he immediately descended from the vehiclein an inexpressible state of agitation.

  "Come!--come in!" he stammered.

  Then, suddenly, and with a sort of fury, he repeated:

  "Let us go, monsieur."

  He turned up by the road he had come from the chateau, Rouletabillestill retaining his hold on the horse's bridle. I addr
essed a fewwords to Monsieur Darzac, but he made no answer. My looks questionedRouletabille, but his gaze was elsewhere.