The Mystery of the Yellow Room

by Gaston Leroux

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