Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you donât realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Mystery of the Yellow Room by Gaston Leroux (thriller books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Gaston Leroux
Book online «The Mystery of the Yellow Room by Gaston Leroux (thriller books to read TXT) đ». Author Gaston Leroux
âThat âoff-turningâ gallery,â said Rouletabille, âI reserve for myself; when I tell you youâll come and take your place here.â
And he made me enter a little dark, triangular closet built in a bend of the wall, to the left of the door of Arthur Ranceâs room. From this recess I could see all that occurred in the gallery as well as if I had been standing in front of Arthur Ranceâs door, and I could watch that door, too. The door of the closet, which was to be my place of observation, was fitted with panels of transparent glass. In the gallery, where all the lamps had been lit, it was quite light. In the closet, however, it was quite dark. It was a splendid place from which to observe and remain unobserved.
I was soon to play the part of a spyâa common policeman. I wonder what my leader at the bar would have said had he known! I was not altogether pleased with my duties, but I could not refuse Rouletabille the assistance he had begged me to give him. I took care not to make him see that I in the least objected, and for several reasons. I wanted to oblige him; I did not wish him to think me a coward; I was filled with curiosity; and it was too late for me to draw back, even had I determined to do so. That I had not had these scruples sooner was because my curiosity had quite got the better of me. I might also urge that I was helping to save the life of a woman, and even a lawyer may do that conscientiously.
We returned along the gallery. On reaching the door of Mademoiselle Stangersonâs apartment, it opened from a push given by the steward who was waiting at the dinner-table. (Monsieur Stangerson had, for the last three days, dined with his daughter in the drawing-room on the first floor.) As the door remained open, we distinctly saw Mademoiselle Stangerson, taking advantage of the stewardâs absence, and while her father was stooping to pick up something he had let fall, pour the contents of a phial into Monsieur Stangersonâs glass.
CHAPTER XXI. On the Watch
The act, which staggered me, did not appear to affect Rouletabille much. We returned to his room and, without even referring to what we had seen, he gave me his final instructions for the night. First we were to go to dinner; after dinner, I was to take my stand in the dark closet and wait there as long as it was necessaryâto look out for what might happen.
âIf you see anything before I do,â he explained, âyou must let me know. If the man gets into the ârightâ gallery by any other way than the âoff-turningâ gallery, you will see him before I shall, because you have a view along the whole length of the ârightâ gallery, while I can only command a view of the âoff-turningâ gallery. All you need do to let me know is to undo the cord holding the curtain of the ârightâ gallery window, nearest to the dark closet. The curtain will fall of itself and immediately leave a square of shadow where previously there had been a square of light. To do this, you need but stretch your hand out of the closet, I shall understand your signal perfectly.â
âAnd then?â
âThen you will see me coming round the corner of the âoff-turningâ gallery.â
âWhat am I to do then?â
âYou will immediately come towards me, behind the man; but I shall already be upon him, and shall have seen his face.â
I attempted a feeble smile.
âWhy do you smile? Well, you may smile while you have the chance, but I swear youâll have no time for that a few hours from now.
âAnd if the man escapes?â
âSo much the better,â said Rouletabille, coolly, âI donât want to capture him. He may take himself off any way he can. I will let him goâafter I have seen his face. Thatâs all I want. I shall know afterwards what to do so that as far as Mademoiselle Stangerson is concerned he shall be dead to her even though he continues to live. If I took him alive, Mademoiselle Stangerson and Robert Darzac would, perhaps, never forgive me! And I wish to retain their good-will and respect.
âSeeing, as I have just now seen, Mademoiselle Stangerson pour a narcotic into her fatherâs glass, so that he might not be awake to interrupt the conversation she is going to have with her murderer, you can imagine she would not be grateful to me if I brought the man of âThe Yellow Roomâ and the inexplicable gallery, bound and gagged, to her father. I realise now that if I am to save the unhappy lady, I must silence the man and not capture him. To kill a human being is no small thing. Besides, thatâs not my business, unless the man himself makes it my business. On the other hand, to render him forever silent without the ladyâs assent and confidence is to act on oneâs own initiative and assumes a knowledge of everything with nothing for a basis. Fortunately, my friend, I have guessed, no, I have reasoned it all out. All that I ask of the man who is coming to-night is to bring me his face, so that it may enterââ
âInto the circle?â
âExactly! And his face wonât surprise me!â
âBut I thought you saw his face on the night when you sprang into the chamber?â
âOnly imperfectly. The candle was on the floor; and, his beardââ
âWill he wear his beard this evening?â
âI think I can say for certain that he will. But the gallery is light and, now, I knowâorâat least, my brain knowsâand my eyes will see.â
âIf we are here only to see him and let him escape, why are we armed?â
âBecause, if the man of âThe Yellow Roomâ and the inexplicable gallery knows that I know, he is capable of doing anything! We should then have to defend ourselves.â
âAnd you are sure he will come to-night?â
âAs sure as that you are standing there! This morning, at half-past ten oâclock, Mademoiselle Stangerson, in the cleverest way in the world, arranged to have no nurses to-night. She gave them leave of absence for twenty-four hours, under some plausible pretexts, and did not desire anybody to be with her but her father, while they are away. Her father, who is to sleep in the boudoir, has gladly consented to the arrangement. Darzacâs departure and what he told me, as well as the extraordinary precautions Mademoiselle Stangerson is taking to be alone to-night leaves me no room for doubt. She has prepared the way for the coming of the man whom Darzac dreads.â
âThatâs awful!â
âIt is!â
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