In Which Joseph Rouletabille is Awaited with Impatience
On the 15th of January, that is to say, two months and a half after
the tragic events I have narrated, the “Epoque” printed, as the first
column of the front page, the following sensational article:—
“The Seine-et-Oise jury is summoned to-day to give its verdict on one
of the most mysterious affairs in the annals of crime. There never has
been a case with so many obscure, incomprehensible, and inexplicable
points. And yet the prosecution has not hesitated to put into the
prisoner’s dock a man who is respected, esteemed, and loved by all who
knew him—a young savant, the hope of French science, whose whole life
has been devoted to knowledge and truth. When Paris heard of Monsieur
Robert Darzac’s arrest a unanimous cry of protest arose from all sides.
The whole Sorbonne, disgraced by this act of the examining magistrate,
asserted its belief in the innocence of Mademoiselle Stangerson’s
fiancé. Monsieur Stangerson was loud in his denunciation of this
miscarriage of justice. There is no doubt in the mind of anybody that
could the victim speak she would claim from the jurors of Seine-et-Oise
the man she wishes to make her husband and whom the prosecution would
send to the scaffold. It is to be hoped that Mademoiselle Stangerson
will shortly recover her reason, which has been temporarily unhinged by
the horrible mystery at the Glandier. The question before the jury is
the one we propose to deal with this very day.
“We have decided not to permit twelve worthy men to commit a
disgraceful miscarriage of justice. We confess that the remarkable
coincidences, the many convicting evidences, and the inexplicable
silence on the part of the accused, as well as a total absence of any
evidence for an alibi, were enough to warrant the bench of judges in
assuming that in this man alone was centered the truth of the affair.
The evidences are, in appearance, so overwhelming against Monsieur
Robert Darzac that a detective so well informed, so intelligent, and
generally so successful, as Monsieur Frédéric Larsan, may be excused
for having been misled by them. Up to now everything has gone against
Monsieur Robert Darzac in the magisterial inquiry. To-day, however,
_we_ are going to defend him before the jury, and we are going to bring
to the witness stand a light that will illumine the whole mystery of
the Glandier. _For we possess the truth._
“If we have not spoken sooner, it is because the interests of certain
parties in the case demand that we should take that course. Our readers
may remember the unsigned reports we published relating to the ‘Left
foot of the Rue Oberkampf,’ at the time of the famous robbery of the
Crédit Universel, and the famous case of the ‘Gold Ingots of the
Mint.’ In both those cases we were able to discover the truth long
before even the excellent ingenuity of Frédéric Larsan had been able
to unravel it. These reports were written by our youngest reporter,
Joseph Rouletabille, a youth of eighteen, whose fame to-morrow will be
world-wide. When attention was first drawn to the Glandier case, our
youthful reporter was on the spot and installed in the château, when
every other representative of the press had been denied admission. He
worked side by side with Frédéric Larsan. He was amazed and terrified
at the grave mistake the celebrated detective was about to make, and
tried to divert him from the false scent he was following; but the
great Fred refused to receive instructions from this young journalist.
We know now to where it brought Monsieur Robert Darzac.
“But now, France must know—the whole world must know, that, on the
very evening on which Monsieur Darzac was arrested, young Rouletabille
entered our editorial office and informed us that he was about to go
away on a journey. ‘How long I shall be away,’ he said, ‘I cannot say;
perhaps a month—perhaps two—perhaps three—perhaps I may never return.
Here is a letter. If I am not back on the day on which Monsieur Darzac
is to appear before the Assize Court, have this letter opened and read
to the court, after all the witnesses have been heard. Arrange it
with Monsieur Darzac’s counsel. Monsieur Darzac is innocent. In this
letter is written the name of the murderer; and—that is all I have to
say. I am leaving to get my proofs—for the irrefutable evidence of
the murderer’s guilt.’ Our reporter departed. For a long time we were
without news from him; but, a week ago, a stranger called upon our
manager and said: ‘Act in accordance with the instructions of Joseph
Rouletabille, if it becomes necessary to do so. The letter left by him
holds the truth.’ The gentleman who brought us this message would not
give us his name.
“To-day, the 15th of January, is the day of the trial. Joseph
Rouletabille has not returned. It may be we shall never see him again.
The press also counts its heroes, its martyrs to duty. It may be he is
no longer living. We shall know how to avenge him. Our manager will,
this afternoon, be at the Court of Assize at Versailles, with the
letter—the letter containing the name of the murderer!”
At the head of the article appeared a portrait of Rouletabille—the same
given as the frontispiece to this book.
* * * * *
Those Parisians who flocked the Assize Court at Versailles, to be
present at the trial of what was known as the “Mystery of The Yellow
Room,” will certainly remember the terrible crush at the Saint-Lazare
station. The ordinary trains were so full that special trains had to be
made up. The article in the “Epoque” had so excited the populace that
discussion was rife everywhere even to the verge of blows. Partisans of
Rouletabille fought with the supporters of Frédéric Larsan. Curiously
enough the excitement was due less to the fact that an innocent man
was in danger of a wrongful conviction than to the interest taken in
their own ideas as to the Mystery of The Yellow Room. Each had his
explanation to which each held fast. Those who explained the crime
on Frédéric Larsan’s theory would not admit that there could be any
doubt as to the perspicacity of the popular detective. Others who had
arrived at a different solution, naturally insisted that this was
Rouletabille’s explanation, though they did not as yet know what that
was.
With the day’s “Epoque” in their hands, the “Larsans” and the
“Rouletabilles” fought and shoved each other on the steps of the
Palais de Justice, right into the court itself. Those who could not
get in remained in the neighbourhood until evening and were, with
great difficulty, kept back by the soldiery and the police. They
became hungry for news, welcoming the most absurd rumours. At one time
the rumour spread that Monsieur Stangerson himself had been arrested
in the court and had confessed to being the murderer. This goes to
show to what a pitch of madness nervous excitement may carry people.
Rouletabille was still expected. Some pretended to know him; and when
a young man with a “pass” crossed the open space which separated the
crowd from the Court House, a scuffle took place. Cries were raised of
“Rouletabille!—there’s Rouletabille!” The arrival of the manager of the
paper was the signal for a great demonstration. Some applauded, others
hissed.
* * * * *
The trial itself was presided over by Monsieur de Rocouz, a judge
filled with the prejudice of his class, but a man honest at heart. The
witnesses had been called. I was there, of course, as were all who had,
in any way, been in touch with the mysteries of the Glandier. Monsieur
Stangerson—looking many years older and almost unrecognisable—Larsan,
Arthur Rance, with his face ruddy as ever, Daddy Jacques, Daddy
Mathieu, who was brought into court handcuffed between two gendarmes,
Madame Mathieu, in tears, the two Berniers, the two nurses, the
steward, all the domestics of the château, the employé of the Paris
Post Office, the railway employé from Epinay, some friends of Monsieur
and Mademoiselle Stangerson, and all Monsieur Darzac’s witnesses. I was
lucky enough to be called early in the trial, so that I was then able
to watch and be present at almost the whole of the proceedings.
The court was so crowded that many lawyers were compelled to find seats
on the steps. Behind the bench of justices were representatives from
other benches. Monsieur Robert Darzac stood in the prisoner’s dock
between policemen, tall, handsome, and calm. A murmur of admiration
rather than of compassion greeted his appearance. He leaned forward
towards his counsel, Maître Henri Robert, who, assisted by his chief
secretary, Maître André Hesse, was busily turning over the folios of
his brief.
Many expected that Monsieur Stangerson, after giving his evidence,
would have gone over to the prisoner and shaken hands with him; but
he left the court without another word. It was remarked that the
jurors appeared to be deeply interested in a rapid conversation which
the manager of the “Epoque” was having with Maître Henri Robert. The
manager, later, sat down in the front row of the public seats. Some
were surprised that he was not asked to remain with the other witnesses
in the room reserved for them.
The reading of the indictment was got through, as it always is, without
any incident. I shall not here report the long examination to which
Monsieur Darzac was subjected. He answered all the questions quickly
and easily. His silence as to the important matters of which we know
was dead against him. It would seem as if this reticence would be fatal
for him. He resented the President’s reprimands. He was told that his
silence might mean death.
“Very well,” he said; “I will submit to it; but I am innocent.”
With that splendid ability which has made his fame, Maître Robert
took advantage of the incident, and tried to show that it brought
out in noble relief his client’s character; for only heroic natures
could remain silent for moral reasons in face of such a danger. The
eminent advocate however, only succeeded in assuring those who were
already assured of Darzac’s innocence. At the adjournment Rouletabille
had not yet arrived. Every time a door opened, all eyes there turned
towards it and back to the manager of the “Epoque,” who sat impassive
in his place. When he once was feeling in his pocket a loud murmur of
expectation followed. The letter!
It is not, however, my intention to report in detail the course of
the trial. My readers are sufficiently acquainted with the mysteries
surrounding the Glandier case to enable me to go on to the really
dramatic dénouement of this ever-memorable day.
When the trial was resumed, Maître Henri Robert questioned Daddy
Mathieu as to his complicity in the death of the keeper. His wife was
also brought in and was confronted by her husband. She burst into tears
and confessed that she had been the keeper’s mistress, and that her
husband had suspected it. She again, however, affirmed that he had
had nothing to do with the murder of her lover. Maître Henri Robert
thereupon asked the court to hear Frédéric Larsan on this point.
“In a short conversation which I have had with Frédéric Larsan, during
the adjournment,” declared the advocate, “he has made me understand
that the death of the keeper may have been brought about otherwise
than by the hand of Mathieu. It will be interesting to hear Frédéric
Larsan’s theory.”
Frédéric Larsan was brought in. His explanation was quite clear.
“I see no necessity,” he said, “for bringing Mathieu in this. I
have told Monsieur de Marquet that the man’s threats had biassed
the examining magistrate against him. To me the attempt to murder
Mademoiselle and the death of the keeper are the work of one and the
same person. Mademoiselle Stangerson’s murderer, flying through the
court, was fired on; it was thought he was struck, perhaps killed. As
a matter of fact, he only stumbled at the moment of his disappearance
behind the corner of the right wing of the château. There he
encountered the keeper who, no doubt, tried to seize him. The murderer
had in his hand the knife with which he had stabbed Mademoiselle
Stangerson and with this he killed the keeper.”
This very simple explanation appeared at once plausible and satisfying.
A murmur of approbation was heard.
“And the murderer? What became of him?” asked the President.
“He was evidently hidden in an obscure corner at the end of the court.
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!”