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o make sure to impress it on that part of my brain where I have drawn my circle of reasoning." The landlady re-appeared at that moment, bringing in the traditional bacon omelette. Rouletabille chaffed her a little, and she took the chaff with the most charming good humour. "She is much jollier when Daddy Mathieu is in bed with his rheumatism," Rouletabille said to me. But I had eyes neither for Rouletabille nor for the landlady's smiles. I was entirely absorbed over the last words of my young friend and in thinking over Monsieur Robert Darzac's strange behaviour. When he had finished his omelette and we were again alone, Rouletabille continued the tale of his confidences. "When I sent you my telegram this morning," he said, "I had only the word of Monsieur Darzac, that 'perhaps' the assassin would come to-night. I can now say that he will certainly come. I expect him." "What has made you feel this certainty?" "I have been sure since half-past ten o'clock this morning that he would come. I knew that before we saw Arthur Rance at the window in the court." "Ah!" I said, "But, again--what made you so sure? And why since half-past ten this morning?" "Because, at half-past ten, I had proof that Mademoiselle Stangerson was making as many efforts to permit of the murderer's entrance as Monsieur Robert Darzac had taken precautions against it." "Is that possible!" I cried. "Haven't you told me that Mademoiselle Stangerson loves Monsieur Robert Darzac?" "I told you so because it is the truth." "Then do you see nothing strange--" "Everything in this business is strange, my friend; but take my word for it, the strangeness you now feel is nothing to the strangeness that's to come!" "It must be admitted, then," I said, "that Mademoiselle Stangerson and her murderer are in communication--at any rate in writing?" "Admit it, my friend, admit it! You don't risk anything! I told you about the letter left on her table, on the night of the inexplicable gallery affair,--the letter that disappeared into the pocket of Mademoiselle Stangerson. Why should it not have been a summons to a meeting? Might he not, as soon as he was sure of Darzac's absence, appoint the meeting for 'the coming night?" And my friend laughed silently. There are moments when I ask myself if he is not laughing at me. The door of the inn opened. Rouletabille was on his feet so suddenly that one might have thought he had received an el
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