he either seen or heard? At any cost to herself she must keep this
from him. Thus when Monsieur Stangerson returned, he found the door
of The Yellow Room closed, and his daughter in the laboratory,
bending over her desk, at work!"
Turning towards Monsieur Darzac, Rouletabille cried: "You know the
truth! Tell us, then, if that is not how things happened."
"I don't know anything about it," replied Monsieur Darzac.
"I admire you for your silence," said Rouletabille, "but if
Mademoiselle Stangerson knew of your danger, she would release you
from your oath. She would beg of you to tell all she has confided
to you. She would be here to defend you!"
Monsieur Darzac made no movement, nor uttered a word. He looked
at Rouletabille sadly.
"However," said the young reporter, "since Mademoiselle is not here,
I must do it myself. But, believe me, Monsieur Darzac, the only
means to save Mademoiselle Stangerson and restore her to her reason,
is to secure your acquittal."
"What is this secret motive that compels Mademoiselle Stangerson to
hide her knowledge from her father?" asked the President.
"That, Monsieur, I do not know," said Rouletabille. "It is no
business of mine."
The President, turning to Monsieur Darzac, endeavoured to induce
him to tell what he knew.
"Do you still refuse, Monsieur, to tell us how you employed your
time during the attempts on the life of Mademoiselle Stangerson?"
"I cannot tell you anything, Monsieur."
The President turned to Rouletabille as if appealing for an
explanation.
"We must assume, Monsieur President, that Monsieur Robert Darzac's
absences are closely connected with Mademoiselle Stangerson's
secret, and that Monsieur Darzac feels himself in honour bound to
remain silent. It may be that Larsan, who, since his three attempts,
has had everything in training to cast suspicion on Monsieur Darzac,
had fixed on just those occasions for a meeting with Monsieur Darzac
at a spot most compromising. Larsan is cunning enough to have done
that."
The President seemed partly convinced, but still curious, he asked:
"But what is this secret of Mademoiselle Stangerson?"
"That I cannot tell you," said Rouletabille. "I think, however,
you know enough now to acquit Monsieur Robert Darzac! Unless
Larsan should return, and I don't think he will," he added, with
a laugh.
"One question more," said the President. "Admitting your
explanation, we know that Larsan wished to turn suspicion on Monsieur
Robert Darzac, but why should he throw suspicion on Daddy Jacques
also?"
"There came in the professional detective, Monsieur, who proves
himself an unraveller of mysteries, by annihilating the very proofs
he had accumulated. He's a very cunning man, and a similar trick
had often enabled him to turn suspicion from himself. He proved
the innocence of one before accusing the other. You can easily
believe, Monsieur, that so complicated a scheme as this must have
been long and carefully thought out in advance by Larsan. I can
tell you that he had long been engaged on its elaboration. If you
care to learn how he had gathered information, you will find that
he had, on one occasion, disguised himself as the commissionaire
between the 'Laboratory of the Surete' and Monsieur Stangerson, of
whom 'experiments' were demanded. In this way he had been able
before the crime, on two occasions to take stock of the pavilion.
He had 'made up' so that Daddy Jacques had not recognised him. And
yet Larsan had found the opportunity to rob the old man of a pair
of old boots and a cast-off Basque cap, which the servant had tied
up in a handkerchief, with the intention of carrying them to a
friend, a charcoal-burner on the road to Epinay. When the crime
was discovered, Daddy Jacques had immediately recognised these
objects as his. They were extremely compromising, which explains
his distress at the time when we spoke to him about them. Larsan
confessed it all to me. He is an artist at the game. He did a
similar thing in the affair of the 'Credit Universel,' and in that
of the 'Gold Ingots of the Mint.' Both these cases should be
revised. Since Ballmeyer or Larsan has been in the Surete a number
of innocent persons have been sent to prison."
CHAPTER XXVIII
In Which It Is Proved That One Does Not Always Think of Everything
Great excitement prevailed when Rouletabille had finished. The
court-room became agitated with the murmurings of suppressed
applause. Maitre Henri Robert called for an adjournment of the
trial and was supported in his motion by the public prosecutor
himself. The case was adjourned. The next day Monsieur Robert
Darzac was released on bail, while Daddy Jacques received the
immediate benefit of a "no cause for action." Search was
everywhere made for Frederic Larsan, but in vain. Monsieur Darzac
finally escaped the awful calamity which, at one time, had
threatened him. After a visit to Mademoiselle Stangerson, he was
led to hope that she might, by careful nursing, one day recover
her reason.
Rouletabille, naturally, became the "man of the hour." On leaving
the Palais de Justice, the crowd bore him aloft in triumph. The
press of the whole world published his exploits and his photograph.
He, who had interviewed so many illustrious personages, had himself
become illustrious and was interviewed in his turn. I am glad to
say that the enormous success in no way turned his head.
We left Versailles together, after having dined at "The Dog That
Smokes." In the train I put a number of questions to him which,
during our meal, had been on the tip of my tongue, but which I had
refrained from uttering, knowing he did not like to talk "shop"
while eating.
"My friend," I said, "that Larsan case is wonderful. It is worthy
of you."
He begged me to say no more, and humorously pretended an anxiety
for me should I give way to silly praise of him because of a
personal admiration for his ability.
"I'll come to the point, then," I said, not a little nettled. "I
am still in the dark as to your reason for going to America. When
you left the Glandier you had found out, if I rightly understand,
all about Frederic Larsan; you had discovered the exact way he had
attempted the murder?"
"Quite so. And you," he said, turning the conversation, "did you
suspect nothing?"
"Nothing!"
"It's incredible!"
"I don't see how I could have suspected anything. You took great
pains to conceal your thoughts from me. Had you already suspected
Larsan when you sent for me to bring the revolvers?"
"Yes! I had come to that conclusion through the incident of the
'inexplicable gallery.' Larsan's return to Mademoiselle Stangerson's
room, however, had not then been cleared up by the eye-glasses. My
suspicions were the outcome of my reasoning only; and the idea of
La
rsan being the murderer seemed so extraordinary that I resolved to
wait for actual evidence before venturing to act. Nevertheless, the
suspicion worried me, and I sometimes spoke to the detective in a
way that ought to have opened your eyes. I spoke disparagingly of
his methods. But until I found the eye-glasses I could but look
upon my suspicion of him in the light of an absurd hypothesis only.
You can imagine my elation after I had explained Larsan's movements.
I remember well rushing into my room like a mad-man and crying to
you: 'I'll get the better of the great Fred. I'll get the better
of him in a way that will make a sensation!'
"I was then thinking of Larsan, the murderer. It was that same
evening that Darzac begged me to watch over Mademoiselle Stangerson.
I made no efforts until after we had dined with Larsan, until ten
o'clock. He was right there before me, and I could afford to wait.
You ought to have suspected, because when we were talking of the
murderer's arrival, I said to you: 'I am quite sure Larsan will be
here to-night.'
"But one important point escaped us both. It was one which ought
to have opened our eyes to Larsan. Do you remember the bamboo cane?
I was surprised to find Larsan had made no use of that evidence
against Robert Darzac. Had it not been purchased by a man whose
description tallied exactly with that of Darzac? Well, just before
I saw him off at the train, after the recess during the trial, I
asked him why he hadn't used the cane evidence. He told me he had
never had any intention of doing so; that our discovery of it in
the little inn at Epinay had much embarrassed him. If you will
remember, he told us then that the cane had been given him in London.
Why did we not immediately say to ourselves: 'Fred is lying. He
could not have had this cane in London. He was not in London. He
bought it in Paris'? Then you found out, on inquiry at Cassette's,
that the cane had been bought by a person dressed very like Robert
Darzac, though, as we learned later, from Darzac himself, it was
not he who had made the purchase. Couple this with the fact we
already knew, from the letter at the poste restante, that there was
actually a man in Paris who was passing as Robert Darzac, why did
we not immediately fix on Fred himself?
"Of course, his position at the Surete was against us; but when we
saw the evident eagerness on his part to find convicting evidence
against Darzac, nay, even the passion he displayed in his pursuit
of the man, the lie about the cane should have had a new meaning
for us. If you ask why Larsan bought the cane, if he had no
intention of manufacturing evidence against Darzac by means of it,
the answer is quite simple. He had been wounded in the hand by
Mademoiselle Stangerson, so that the cane was useful to enable him
to close his hand in carrying it. You remember I noticed that he
always carried it?
"All these details came back to my mind when I had once fixed on
Larsan as the criminal. But they were too late then to be of any
use to me. On the evening when he pretended to be drugged I looked
at his hand and saw a thin silk bandage covering the signs of a
slight healing wound. Had we taken a quicker initiative at the
time Larsan told us that lie about the cane, I am certain he would
have gone off, to avoid suspicion. All the same, we worried Larsan
or Ballmeyer without our knowing it."
"But," I interrupted, "if Larsan had no intention of using the cane
as evidence against Darzac, why had he made himself up to look like
the man when he went in to buy it?"
"He had not specially 'made up' as Darzac to buy the cane; he had
come straight to Cassette's immediately after he had attacked
Mademoiselle Stangerson. His wound was troubling him and, as he
was passing along the Avenue de l'Opera, the idea of the cane came
to his mind and he acted on it. It was then eight o'clock. And
I, who had hit upon the very hour of the occurrence of the tragedy,
almost convinced that Darzac was not the criminal, and knowing of
the cane, I still never suspected Larsan. There are times ..."
"There are times," I said, "when the greatest intellects--..."
Rouletabille shut my mouth. I still continued to chide him, but,
finding he did not reply, I saw he was no longer paying any
attention to what I was saying. I found he was fast asleep.
CHAPTER XXIX
The Mystery of Mademoiselle Stangerson
During the days that followed I had several opportunities to question
him as to his reason for his voyage to America, but I obtained no
more precise answers than he had given me on the evening of the
adjournment of the trial, when we were on the train for Paris. One
day, however, on my still pressing him, he said:
"Can't you understand that I had to know Larsan's true personality?"
"No doubt," I said, "but why did you go to America to find that out?"
He sat smoking his pipe, and made no further reply. I began to see
that I was touching on the secret that concerned Mademoiselle
Stangerson. Rouletabille evidently had found it necessary to go to
America to find out what the mysterious tie was that bound her to
Larsan by so strange and terrible a bond. 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? After so
many years and the publicity given the case by a curious and
shameless press; now that Monsieur Stangerson knows all and has
forgiven all, all may be told. In every phase of this remarkable
story Mademoiselle Stangerson had always been the sufferer.
The beginning dates from the time when, as a young girl, she was
living with her father in Philadelphia. A visitor at the house,
a Frenchman, had succeeded by his wit, grace and persistent
attention, in gaining her affections. He was said to be rich and
had asked her of her father. Monsieur Stangerson, on making
inquiries as to Monsieur Jean Roussel, found that the man was a
swindler and an adventurer. Jean Roussel was but another of the
many names under which the notorious Ballmeyer, a fugitive from
France, tried to hide himself. Monsieur Stangerson did not know
of his identity with Ballmeyer; he learned that the man was simply
undesirable for his daughter. He not only refused to give his
consent to the marriage but denied him admission into the house.
Mathilde Stangerson, however, had fallen in love. To her Jean
Roussel was everything that her love painted him. She was indignant
at her father's attitude, and did not conceal her feelings. Her
father sent her to stay with an aunt in Cincinnati. There she was
joined by Jean Roussel and, in spite of the reverence she felt for
her father, ran away with him to get married.
They went to Louisville and lived there for some time. One morning,
however, a knock came a
t the door of the house in which they were
and the police entered to arrest Jean Roussel. It was then that
Mathilde Stangerson, or Roussel, learned that her husband was no
other than the notorious Ballmeyer!
The young woman in her despair tried to commit suicide. She failed
in this, and was forced to rejoin her aunt in Cincinnati, The old
lady was overjoyed to see her again. She had been anxiously
searching for her and had not dared to tell Monsieur Stangerson of
her disappearance. Mathilde swore her to secrecy, so that her father
should not know she had been away. A month later, Mademoiselle
Stangerson returned to her father, repentant, her heart dead within
her, hoping only one thing: that she would never again see her
husband, the horrible Ballmeyer. A report was spread, a few weeks
later, that he was dead, and she now determined to atone for her
disobedience by a life of labour and devotion for her father. And
she kept her word.
All this she had confessed to Robert Darzac, and, believing Ballmeyer
dead, had given herself to the joy of a union with him. But fate had
resuscitated Jean Roussel--the Ballmeyer of her youth. He had taken
steps to let her know that he would never allow her to marry Darzac
--that he still loved her.
Mademoiselle Stangerson never for one moment hesitated to confide
in Monsieur Darzac. She showed him the letter in which Jean Roussel
asked her to recall the first hours of their union in their beautiful
and charming Louisville home. "The presbytery has lost nothing of
its charm, nor the garden its brightness," he had written. The
scoundrel pretended to be rich and claimed the right of taking her
back to Louisville. She had told Darzac that if her father should
know of her dishonour, she would kill herself. Monsieur Darzac had
sworn to silence her persecutor, even if he had to kill him. He
was outwitted and would have succumbed had it not been for the
genius of Rouletabille.
Mademoiselle Stangerson was herself helpless in the hands of such a
villain. She had tried to kill him when he had first threatened and
then attacked her in The Yellow Room. She had, unfortunately,
failed, and felt herself condemned to be for ever at the mercy of
this unscrupulous wretch who was continually demanding her presence
at clandestine interviews. When he sent her the letter through the
Post Office, asking her to meet him, she had refused. The result
of her refusal was the tragedy of The Yellow Room. The second time
he wrote asking for a meeting, the letter reaching her in her sick
chamber, she had avoided him by sleeping with her servants. In that
letter the scoundrel had warned her that, since she was too ill to
come to him, he would come to her, and that he would be in her
chamber at a particular hour on a particular night. Knowing that
she had everything to fear from Ballmeyer, she had left her chamber
on that night. It was then that the incident of the "inexplicable
gallery" occurred.
The third time she had determined to keep the appointment. He
asked for it in the letter he had written in her own room, on the
night of the incident in the gallery, which he left on her desk.
In that letter he threatened to burn her father's papers if she
did not meet him. It was to rescue these papers that she made up
her mind to see him. She did not for one moment doubt that the
wretch would carry out his threat if she persisted in avoiding him,
and in that case the labours of her father's lifetime would be for
ever lost. Since the meeting was thus inevitable, she resolved to
see her husband and appeal to his better nature. It was for this
interview that she had prepared herself on the night the keeper was
killed. They did meet, and what passed between them may be imagined.
He insisted that she renounce Darzac. She, on her part, affirmed
The Mystery of the Yellow Room Page 24
