Le mystère de la chambre jaune. English
Page 21
CHAPTER XX. An Act of Mademoiselle Stangerson
"You remember me, Monsieur?" asked Rouletabille.
"Perfectly!" replied Arthur Rance. "I recognise you as the lad at thebar. [The face of Rouletabille crimsoned at being called a "lad."] Iwant to shake hands with you. You are a bright little fellow."
The American extended his hand and Rouletabille, relaxing his frown,shook it and introduced Mr. Arthur Rance to me. He invited him to shareour meal.
"No thanks. I breakfasted with Monsieur Stangerson."
Arthur Rance spoke French perfectly,--almost without an accent.
"I did not expect to have the pleasure of seeing you again, Monsieur. Ithought you were to have left France the day after the reception at theElysee."
Rouletabille and I, outwardly indifferent, listened most intently forevery word the American would say.
The man's purplish red face, his heavy eyelids, the nervous twitchings,all spoke of his addiction to drink. How came it that so sorry aspecimen of a man should be so intimate with Monsieur Stangerson?
Some days later, I learned from Frederic Larsan--who, like ourselves,was surprised and mystified by his appearance and reception at thechateau--that Mr. Rance had been an inebriate for only about fifteenyears; that is to say, since the professor and his daughter leftPhiladelphia. During the time the Stangersons lived in America they werevery intimate with Arthur Rance, who was one of the most distinguishedphrenologists of the new world. Owing to new experiments, he hadmade enormous strides beyond the science of Gall and Lavater. Thefriendliness with which he was received at the Glandier may be explainedby the fact that he had once rendered Mademoiselle Stangerson a greatservice by stopping, at the peril of his own life, the runaway horses ofher carriage. The immediate result of that could, however, have been nomore than a mere friendly association with the Stangersons; certainly,not a love affair.
Frederic Larsan did not tell me where he had picked up this information;but he appeared to be quite sure of what he said.
Had we known these facts at the time Arthur Rance met us at the DonjonInn, his presence at the chateau might not have puzzled us, but theycould not have failed to increase our interest in the man himself. TheAmerican must have been at least forty-five years old. He spoke in aperfectly natural tone in reply to Rouletabille's question.
"I put off my return to America when I heard of the attack onMademoiselle Stangerson. I wanted to be certain the lady had not beenkilled, and I shall not go away until she is perfectly recovered."
Arthur Rance then took the lead in talk, paying no heed to some ofRouletabille's questions. He gave us, without our inviting him, hispersonal views on the subject of the tragedy,--views which, as well asI could make out, were not far from those held by Frederic Larzan. TheAmerican also thought that Robert Darzac had something to do with thematter. He did not mention him by name, but there was no room to doubtwhom he meant. He told us he was aware of the efforts young Rouletabillewas making to unravel the tangled skein of The Yellow Room mystery. Heexplained that Monsieur Stangerson had related to him all that had takenplace in the inexplicable gallery. He several times expressed his regretat Monsieur Darzac's absence from the chateau on all these occasions,and thought that Monsieur Darzac had done cleverly in allying himselfwith Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, who could not fail, sooner or later,to discover the murderer. He spoke the last sentence with unconcealedirony. Then he rose, bowed to us, and left the inn.
Rouletabille watched him through the window.
"An odd fish, that!" he said.
"Do you think he'll pass the night at the Glandier?" I asked.
To my amazement the young reporter answered that it was a matter ofentire indifference to him whether he did or not.
As to how we spent our time during the afternoon, all I need say isthat Rouletabille led me to the grotto of Sainte-Genevieve, and, allthe time, talked of every subject but the one in which we were mostinterested. Towards evening I was surprised to find Rouletabille makingnone of the preparations I had expected him to make. I spoke to himabout it when night had come on, and we were once more in his room. Hereplied that all his arrangements had already been made, and this timethe murderer would not get away from him.
I expressed some doubt on this, reminding him of his disappearance inthe gallery, and suggested that the same phenomenon might occur again.He answered that he hoped it would. He desired nothing more. I did notinsist, knowing by experience how useless that would have been. He toldme that, with the help of the concierges, the chateau had since earlydawn been watched in such a way that nobody could approach it withouthis knowing it, and that he had no concern for those who might have leftit and remained without.
It was then six o'clock by his watch. Rising, he made a sign to me tofollow him, and, without in the least trying to conceal his movements orthe sound of his footsteps, he led me through the gallery. We reachedthe 'right' gallery and came to the landing-place which we crossed.We then continued our way in the gallery of the left wing, passingProfessor Stangerson's apartment.
At the far end of the gallery, before coming to the donjon, is the roomoccupied by Arthur Rance. We knew that, because we had seen him at thewindow looking on to the court. The door of the room opens on to the endof the gallery, exactly facing the east window, at the extremity ofthe 'right' gallery, where Rouletabille had placed Daddy Jacques, andcommands an uninterrupted view of the gallery from end to end of thechateau.
"That 'off-turning' gallery," said Rouletabille, "I reserve for myself;when I tell you you'll come and take your place here."
And he made me enter a little dark, triangular closet built in a bendof the wall, to the left of the door of Arthur Rance's room. From thisrecess I could see all that occurred in the gallery as well as if I hadbeen standing in front of Arthur Rance's door, and I could watchthat door, too. The door of the closet, which was to be my placeof observation, was fitted with panels of transparent glass. In thegallery, where all the lamps had been lit, it was quite light. In thecloset, however, it was quite dark. It was a splendid place from whichto observe and remain unobserved.
I was soon to play the part of a spy--a common policeman. I wonder whatmy leader at the bar would have said had he known! I was not altogetherpleased with my duties, but I could not refuse Rouletabille theassistance he had begged me to give him. I took care not to make himsee that I in the least objected, and for several reasons. I wanted tooblige him; I did not wish him to think me a coward; I was filledwith curiosity; and it was too late for me to draw back, even hadI determined to do so. That I had not had these scruples sooner wasbecause my curiosity had quite got the better of me. I might also urgethat I was helping to save the life of a woman, and even a lawyer may dothat conscientiously.
We returned along the gallery. On reaching the door of MademoiselleStangerson's apartment, it opened from a push given by the steward whowas waiting at the dinner-table. (Monsieur Stangerson had, for the lastthree days, dined with his daughter in the drawing-room on the firstfloor.) As the door remained open, we distinctly saw MademoiselleStangerson, taking advantage of the steward's absence, and while herfather was stooping to pick up something he had let fall, pour thecontents of a phial into Monsieur Stangerson's glass.