The Mystery of the Yellow Room by Gaston Leroux (thriller books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Gaston Leroux
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Because of the mystery which shrouded it, the case of âThe Yellow Roomâ was certain to fascinate so theatrical a mind. It interested him enormously, and he threw himself into it, less as a magistrate eager to know the truth, than as an amateur of dramatic embroglios, tending wholly to mystery and intrigue, who dreads nothing so much as the explanatory final act.
So that, at the moment of meeting him, I heard Monsieur de Marquet say to the Registrar with a sigh:
âI hope, my dear Monsieur Maleine, this builder with his pickaxe will not destroy so fine a mystery.â
âHave no fear,â replied Monsieur Maleine, âhis pickaxe may demolish the pavilion, perhaps, but it will leave our case intact. I have sounded the walls and examined the ceiling and floor and I know all about it. I am not to be deceived.â
Having thus reassured his chief, Monsieur Maleine, with a discreet movement of the head, drew Monsieur de Marquetâs attention to us. The face of that gentleman clouded, and, as he saw Rouletabille approaching, hat in hand, he sprang into one of the empty carriages saying, half aloud to his Registrar, as he did so, âAbove all, no journalists!â
Monsieur Maleine replied in the same tone, âI understand!â and then tried to prevent Rouletabille from entering the same compartment with the examining magistrate.
âExcuse me, gentlemen,âthis compartment is reserved.â
âI am a journalist, Monsieur, engaged on the âEpoque,ââ said my young friend with a great show of gesture and politeness, âand I have a word or two to say to Monsieur de Marquet.â
âMonsieur is very much engaged with the inquiry he has in hand.â
âAh! his inquiry, pray believe me, is absolutely a matter of indifference to me. I am no scavenger of odds and ends,â he went on, with infinite contempt in his lower lip, âI am a theatrical reporter; and this evening I shall have to give a little account of the play at the Scala.â
âGet in, sir, please,â said the Registrar.
Rouletabille was already in the compartment. I went in after him and seated myself by his side. The Registrar followed and closed the carriage door.
Monsieur de Marquet looked at him.
âAh, sir,â Rouletabille began, âYou must not be angry with Monsieur de Maleine. It is not with Monsieur de Marquet that I desire to have the honour of speaking, but with Monsieur âCastigat Ridendo.â Permit me to congratulate youâpersonally, as well as the writer for the âEpoque.ââ And Rouletabille, having first introduced me, introduced himself.
Monsieur de Marquet, with a nervous gesture, caressed his beard into a point, and explained to Rouletabille, in a few words, that he was too modest an author to desire that the veil of his pseudonym should be publicly raised, and that he hoped the enthusiasm of the journalist for the dramatistâs work would not lead him to tell the public that Monsieur âCastigat Ridendoâ and the examining magistrate of Corbeil were one and the same person.
âThe work of the dramatic author may interfere,â he said, after a slight hesitation, âwith that of the magistrate, especially in a province where oneâs labours are little more than routine.â
âOh, you may rely on my discretion!â cried Rouletabille.
The train was in motion.
âWe have started!â said the examining magistrate, surprised at seeing us still in the carriage.
âYes, Monsieur,âtruth has started,â said Rouletabile, smiling amiably,ââon its way to the Chateau du Glandier. A fine case, Monsieur de Marquet,âa fine case!â
âAn obscureâincredible, unfathomable, inexplicable affairâand there is only one thing I fear, Monsieur Rouletabille,âthat the journalists will be trying to explain it.â
My friend felt this a rap on his knuckles.
âYes,â he said simply, âthat is to be feared. They meddle in everything. As for my interest, monsieur, I only referred to it by mere chance,âthe mere chance of finding myself in the same train with you, and in the same compartment of the same carriage.â
âWhere are you going, then?â asked Monsieur de Marquet.
âTo the Chateau du Glandier,â replied Rouletabille, without turning.
âYouâll not get in, Monsieur Rouletabille!â
âWill you prevent me?â said my friend, already prepared to fight.
âNot I!âI like the press and journalists too well to be in any way disagreeable to them; but Monsieur Stangerson has given orders for his door to be closed against everybody, and it is well guarded. Not a journalist was able to pass through the gate of the Glandier yesterday.â
Monsieur de Marquet compressed his lips and seemed ready to relapse into obstinate silence. He only relaxed a little when Rouletabille no longer left him in ignorance of the fact that we were going to the Glandier for the purpose of shaking hands with an âold and intimate friend,â Monsieur Robert Darzacâa man whom Rouletabille had perhaps seen once in his life.
âPoor Robert!â continued the young reporter, âthis dreadful affair may be his death,âhe is so deeply in love with Mademoiselle Stangerson.â
âHis sufferings are truly painful to witness,â escaped like a regret from the lips of Monsieur de Marquet.
âBut it is to be hoped that Mademoiselle Stangersonâs life will be saved.â
âLet us hope so. Her father told me yesterday that, if she does not recover, it will not be long before he joins her in the grave. What an incalculable loss to science his death would be!â
âThe wound on her temple is serious, is it not?â
âEvidently; but, by a wonderful chance, it has not proved mortal. The blow was given with great force.â
âThen it was not with the revolver she was wounded,â said Rouletabille, glancing at me in triumph.
Monsieur de Marquet appeared greatly embarrassed.
âI didnât say anythingâI donât want to say anythingâI will not say anything,â he said. And he turned towards his Registrar as if he no longer knew us.
But Rouletabille was not to be so easily shaken off. He moved nearer to the examining magistrate and, drawing a copy of the âMatinâ from his pocket, he showed it to him and said:
âThere is one thing, Monsieur, which I may enquire of you without committing an indiscretion. You have, of course, seen the account given in the âMatinâ? It is absurd, is it not?â
âNot in the slightest, Monsieur.â
âWhat! âThe Yellow Roomâ has but one barred windowâthe bars of which have not been movedâand only one door, which had to be broken openâand
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