on a level with the first floor of the chateau. From the height of
those branches one might certainly see what was passing in Mademoiselle
Stangerson's chamber. Evidently that was what Rouletabille thought, for,
enjoining me to remain hidden, he clasped the trunk with his vigorous
arms and climbed up. I soon lost sight of him amid the branches, and
then followed a deep silence. In front of me, the open window remained
lighted, and I saw no shadow move across it. I listened, and presently
from above me these words reached my ears:

"After you!"

"After you, pray!"

Somebody was overhead, speaking,--exchanging courtesies. What was my
astonishment to see on the slippery column of the tree two human forms
appear and quietly slip down to the ground. Rouletabille had mounted
alone, and had returned with another.

"Good evening, Monsieur Sainclair!"

It was Frederic Larsan. The detective had already occupied the post of
observation when my young friend had thought to reach it alone. Neither
noticed my astonishment. I explained that to myself by the fact that
they must have been witnesses of some tender and despairing scene
between Mademoiselle Stangerson, lying in her bed, and Monsieur Darzac
on his knees by her pillow. I guessed that each had drawn different
conclusions from what they had seen. It was easy to see that the scene
had strongly impressed Rouletabille in favour of Monsieur Robert Darzac;
while, to Larsan, it showed nothing but consummate hypocrisy, acted with
finished art by Mademoiselle Stangerson's fiance.

As we reached the park gate, Larsan stopped us.

"My cane!" he cried. "I left it near the tree."

He left us, saying he would rejoin us presently.

"Have you noticed Frederic Larsan's cane?" asked the young reporter, as
soon as we were alone. "It is quite a new one, which I have never seen
him use before. He seems to take great care of it--it never leaves him.
One would think he was afraid it might fall into the hands of strangers.
I never saw it before to-day. Where did he find it? It isn't natural
that a man who had never before used a walking-stick should, the day
after the Glandier crime, never move a step without one. On the day of
our arrival at the chateau, as soon as he saw us, he put his watch in
his pocket and picked up his cane from the ground--a proceeding to which
I was perhaps wrong not to attach some importance."

We were now out of the park. Rouletabille had dropped into silence. H