The Mystery of the Yellow Room

Joseph Rouletabille. Down to the present time he had so firmly opposed my doing it that I had c

dramas, with which my friend was so closely mixed up, if, propos of a recent nomination of the illustrious Stangerson to the grade of grandcross of the Legion of Honour, an evening journal-

e Yellow Room trial, which, preceded that of the Nayves by some years, made far more noise. The entire world hung for months over this obscure problem-the most obscure, it seems to me, that has ever challenged the perspicacity of our police or taxed the conscience of our judges. The solution of the problem baffled everybody who tried to find it. It was like a dramatic rebus with which old Europe and new America alike became f

ruth. He only allowed so much of it to appear as sufficed to ensure the acquittal of an innocent man. The reasons which he had for his reticence no longer exist. Better still, the time has come for my friend to speak out fully. You are going

he following note appeared in t

ouse of Professor Stangerson. On that night, while the master was working in his laboratory, an attempt was made to assassinate Mademoi

pen the way for Monsieur and Madame Curie to the discovery of radium. It was expected the Professor would shortly read to the Academy of Sciences a sensational paper on his new theory,-the Dissociation of Matter,-a theory destined to overthrow from its bas

our investigations and those of justice so difficult that, at present, we cannot form the least idea of what has passed in The Yellow Room in which Mdlle. Stangerson, in her night-dress, was found lying on the floor in the agonies of death. We have, at least, been able to interview Daddy Jacques-as he is

o me she said "bon soir, Daddy Jacques" as she passed into The Yellow Room. We heard her lock the door and shoot the bolt, so that I could not help laughing, and said to Monsieur: "There's Mademoiselle double-locking herself in,-she must be afraid of the 'Bete du bon Dieu!'" Monsieur did not even hear me, he was so deeply absorbed in what he was doing. Just then we heard the distant miawing of a cat. "Is that going to keep us awake all night?" I said to myself; for I must tell you, Monsieur, that, to

portance to the fact that we made no noise; for, because of that, the assassin certainly thought that we had left the place. And, suddenly, while the cuckoo was sounding the half after midnight, a desperate clamour broke out in "The Yellow Room". It was the voice of Mademo

Mademoiselle, as I have told you, with key and bolt. We tried to force it open, but it remained firm. Monsieur Stangerson was like a madman, and truly, it was enough to make hi

e entered by the window!" I cried;-"I will go to the window!" a

to go out of the park. I ran towards the gate and, on my way, met Bernier and his wife, the gate-keepers, who had been attracted by the pistol reports and by our cries. In a few words I told them what had

drawn them early in the evening, as I did every day, though Mademoiselle, knowing that I was tired from the heavy work I had been doing, had begged me not to trouble myself, but leave her t

n the only window also fastened on the inside; and Mademoiselle still calling for help!-No! she had ceased t

ier to burst it open, was still holding firm; but at length, it gave way before our united efforts,-and then what a sight met o

. Tables and chairs had been overthrown, showing that there had been a violent struggle. Mademoiselle had certainly been dragged from her bed. She was covered with blood and had terrible marks of finger-nails on her throat,-the flesh of her neck having been almost torn by the nails. From a wound on the right temple a stream of blood had run down and made

a man on the floor,-footmarks of a man with large feet whose boot-soles had left a sort of sooty impression. How had this man got away? How had he vanished? Don't forget, monsieur, that there is no chimney in "The Yellow Room". He could not have escaped by the door, which is narrow, and on the threshold of which the concierge stood with the lamp, while

taken my revolver from the drawer where I kept it. We then ascertained, by counting the cartridges, that the assassin had fired two shots. Ah! it was fortunate for me that Monsieur Stangerson was in the laboratory when the affair took plac

n" added to this interv

e discovery of your revolver. It is your right, and we see no harm in it. We should have liked to put some further questions to Daddy Jacques-Jacques-Louis Moustier-but the inquiry of the examining magistrate, which is being carried on at the chateau, makes it impossible for us to gain admission at the Glandier; and, as to the oak wood, it is guarded by a wide circle of policemen, who are jealously watching all traces that can lead to

y information as to this affair, without i

an only say that it is the strangest affair I have ever known. The mor

explain his last words; and this is what he said,-t

I shall to-morrow intrust to the builder who constructed the pavilion four years ago-will afford us the proof that may not discourage us. For the problem is this: we know by what way the assassin gained admission,-he entered by the door and hid himself under the bed, awaiting Mademoiselle Stangerson. But how did he leave? How did he escape? If no trap, no sec

of all those that were published on the subject of this affair-that the examining magistrate appeared to p

n explained to us that it is the particularly sinister cry which is uttered sometimes at night by the cat of an old woman,-Mother Angenoux, as she is

in the wall may disentangle for us to-morrow. Let us at least hope that, for the sake of our human reason, as the examining magistrate says. Meanwhile, it is expe

he Surete had telegraphed to the famous detective, Frederic Larsan, who had been