The Mystery of the Yellow Room
After the people had left the court carrying with them the body of the
keeper, the murderer quietly made his escape.”
The words had scarcely left Larsan’s mouth when from the back of the
court came a youthful voice:—
“I agree with Frédéric Larsan as to the death of the keeper; but I do
not agree with him as to the way the murderer escaped!”
Everybody turned round, astonished. The clerks of the court sprang
towards the speaker, calling out silence, and the President angrily
ordered the intruder to be immediately expelled. The same clear voice,
however, was again heard:—
“It is I, Monsieur President—Joseph Rouletabille!”
Chapter XXVII
In Which Joseph Rouletabille Appears in All His Glory
The excitement was extreme. Cries from fainting women were to be heard
amid the extraordinary bustle and stir. The “majesty of the law” was
utterly forgotten. The President tried in vain to make himself heard.
Rouletabille made his way forward with difficulty, but by dint of much
elbowing reached his manager and greeted him cordially. The letter was
passed to him and pocketing it he turned to the witness-box. He was
dressed exactly as on the day he left me even to the ulster over his
arm. Turning to the President, he said:—
“I beg your pardon, Monsieur President, but I have only just arrived
from America. The steamer was late. My name is Joseph Rouletabille!”
The silence which followed his stepping into the witness-box was broken
by laughter when his words were heard. Everybody seemed relieved and
glad to find him there, as if in the expectation of hearing the truth
at last.
But the President was extremely incensed:
“So, you are Joseph Rouletabille,” he replied; “well, young man, I’ll
teach you what comes of making a farce of justice. By virtue of my
discretionary power, I hold you at the court’s disposition.”
“I ask nothing better, Monsieur President. I have come here for that
purpose. I humbly beg the court’s pardon for the disturbance of which
I have been the innocent cause. I beg you to believe that nobody has a
greater respect for the court than I have. I came in as I could.” He
smiled.
“Take him away!” ordered the President.
Maître Henri Robert intervened. He began by apologising for the young
man, who, he said, was moved only by the best intentions. He made the
President understand that the evidence of a witness who had slept
at the Glandier during the whole of that eventful week could not be
omitted, and the present witness, moreover, had come to name the real
murderer.
“Are you going to tell us who the murderer was?” asked the President,
somewhat convinced though still sceptical.
“I have come for that purpose, Monsieur President!” replied
Rouletabille.
An attempt at applause was silenced by the usher.
“Joseph Rouletabille,” said Maître Henri Robert, “has not been
regularly subpoenaed as a witness, but I hope, Monsieur President, you
will examine him in virtue of your discretionary powers.”
“Very well!” said the President, “we will question him. But we must
proceed in order.”
The Advocate-General rose:
“It would, perhaps, be better,” he said, “if the young man were to tell
us now whom he suspects.”
The President nodded ironically:—
“If the Advocate-General attaches importance to the deposition of
Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, I see no reason why this witness should
not give us the name of the murderer.”
A pin drop could have been heard. Rouletabille stood silent looking
sympathetically at Darzac, who, for the first time since the opening of
the trial, showed himself agitated.
“Well,” cried the President, “we wait for the name of the murderer.”
Rouletabille, feeling in his waistcoat pocket, drew his watch and,
looking at it, said:—
“Monsieur President, I cannot name the murderer before half-past six
o’clock!”
Loud murmurs of disappointment filled the room. Some of the lawyers
were heard to say: “He’s making fun of us!”
The President in a stern voice, said:—
“This joke has gone far enough. You may retire, Monsieur, into the
witnesses’ room. I hold you at our disposition.”
Rouletabille protested.
“I assure you, Monsieur President,” he cried in his sharp, clear voice,
“that when I do name the murderer you will understand why I could not
speak before half-past six. I assert this on my honour. I can, however,
give you now some explanation of the murder of the keeper. Monsieur
Frédéric Larsan, who has seen me at work at the Glandier, can tell you
with what care I studied this case. I found myself compelled to differ
with him in arresting Monsieur Robert Darzac, who is innocent. Monsieur
Larsan knows of my good faith and knows that some importance may be
attached to my discoveries, which have often corroborated his own.”
Frédéric Larsan said:—
“Monsieur President, it will be interesting to hear Monsieur Joseph
Rouletabille, especially as he differs from me.”
A murmur of approbation greeted the detective’s speech. He was a good
sportsman and accepted the challenge. The struggle between the two
promised to be exciting.
As the President remained silent, Frédéric Larsan continued:
“We agree that the murderer of the keeper was the assailant of
Mademoiselle Stangerson; but as we are not agreed as to how the
murderer escaped, I am curious to hear Monsieur Rouletabille’s
explanation.”
“I have no doubt you are,” said my friend.
General laughter followed this remark. The President angrily declared
that if it was repeated, he would have the court cleared.
“Now, young man,” said the President, “you have heard Monsieur Frédéric
Larsan; how did the murderer get away from the court?”
* * * * *
Rouletabille looked at Madame Mathieu, who smiled back at him sadly.
“Since Madame Mathieu,” he said, “has freely admitted her intimacy with
the keeper—”
“Why, it’s the boy!” exclaimed Daddy Mathieu.
“Remove that man!” ordered the President.
Mathieu was removed from the court. Rouletabille went on:—
“Since she has made this confession, I am free to tell you that she
often met the keeper at night on the first floor of the donjon, in the
room which was once an oratory. These meetings became more frequent
when her husband was laid up by his rheumatism. She gave him morphine
to ease his pain and to give herself more time for the meetings.
Madame Mathieu came to the château that night, enveloped in a large
black shawl which served also as a disguise. This was the phantom that
disturbed Daddy Jacques. She knew how to imitate the mewing of Mother
Angenoux’ cat and she would make the cries to advise the keeper of her
presence. The recent repairs of the donjon did not interfere with their
meetings in the keeper’s old room, in the donjon, since the new room
assigned to him at the end of the right wing was separated from the
steward’s room by a partition only.
“Previous to the tragedy in the court Madame Mathieu and the keeper
left the donjon together. I learnt these facts from my examination of
the footmarks in the court the next morning. Bernier, the concierge,
whom I had stationed behind the donjon—as he will explain himself—could
not see what passed in the court. He did not reach the court until he
heard the revolver shots, and then he fired. When the woman parted from
the man she went towards the open gate of the court, while he returned
to his room.
“He had almost reached the door when the revolvers rang out. He had
just reached the corner when a shadow bounded by. Meanwhile, Madame
Mathieu, surprised by the revolver shots and by the entrance of people
into the court, crouched in the darkness. The court is a large one
and, being near the gate, she might easily have passed out unseen. But
she remained and saw the body being carried away. In great agony of
mind she neared the vestibule and saw the dead body of her lover on
the stairs lit up by Daddy Jacques’ lantern. She then fled; and Daddy
Jacques joined her.
“That same night, before the murder, Daddy Jacques had been awakened
by the cat’s cry, and, looking through his window, had seen the black
phantom. Hastily dressing himself he went out and recognised her. He is
an old friend of Madame Mathieu, and when she saw him she had to tell
him of her relations with the keeper and begged his assistance. Daddy
Jacques took pity on her and accompanied her through the oak grove out
of the park, past the border of the lake to the road to Epinay. From
there it was but a very short distance to her home.
“Daddy Jacques returned to the château, and, seeing how important it
was for Madame Mathieu’s presence at the château to remain unknown, he
had done all he could to hide it. I appeal to Monsieur Larsan, who saw
me, next morning, examine the two sets of footprints.”
Here Rouletabille turning towards Madame Mathieu, with a bow, said:—
“The footprints of Madame bear a strange resemblance to the neat
footprints of the murderer.”
Madame Mathieu trembled and looked at him with wide eyes as if in
wonder at what he would say next.
“Madame has a shapely foot, long and rather large for a woman. The
imprint, with its pointed toe, is very like that of the murderer’s.”
A movement in the court was repressed by Rouletabille. He held their
attention at once.
“I hasten to add,” he went on, “that I attach no importance to this.
Outward signs like these are often liable to lead us into error, if we
do not reason rightly. Monsieur Robert Darzac’s footprints are also
like the murderer’s, and yet he is not the murderer!”
The President turning to Madame Mathieu asked:—
“Is that in accordance with what you know occurred?”
“Yes, Monsieur President,” she replied, “it is as if Monsieur
Rouletabille had been behind us.”
“Did you see the murderer running towards the end of the right wing?”
“Yes, as clearly as I saw them afterwards carrying the keeper’s body.”
“What became of the murderer?—You were in the court and could easily
have seen?”
“I saw nothing of him, Monsieur President. It became quite dark just
then.”
“Then Monsieur Rouletabille,” said the President, “must explain how the
murderer made his escape.”
Rouletabille continued:
“It was impossible for the murderer to escape by the way he had entered
the court without our seeing him; or if we couldn’t see him we must
certainly have felt him, since the court is a very narrow one enclosed
in high iron railings.”
“Then if the man was hemmed in that narrow square, how is it you did
not find him?—I have been asking you that for the last half hour.”
“Monsieur President,” replied Rouletabille, “I cannot answer that
question before half-past six!”
By this time the people in the court-room were beginning to believe in
this new witness. They were amused by his melodramatic action in thus
fixing the hour; but they seemed to have confidence in the outcome.
As for the President, it looked as if he also had made up his mind to
take the young man in the same way. He had certainly been impressed by
Rouletabille’s explanation of Madame Mathieu’s part.
“Well, Monsieur Rouletabille,” he said, “as you say; but don’t let us
see any more of you before half-past six.”
Rouletabille bowed to the President, and made his way to the door of
the witnesses’ room.
* * * * *
I quietly made my way through the crowd and left the court almost at
the same time as Rouletabille. He greeted me heartily, and looked happy.
“I’ll not ask you, my dear fellow,” I said, smiling, “what you’ve been
doing in America; because I’ve no doubt you’ll say you can’t tell me
until after half-past six.”
“No, my dear Sainclair, I’ll tell you right now why I went to America.
I went in search of the name of the _other half_ of the murderer!”
“The name of the other half?”