e chateau in the company
of Monsieur Robert Darzac, and, extraordinary to relate, I saw, at a
glance, that they were the best of friends. "We are going to The Yellow
Room. Come with us," Rouletabille said to me. "You know, my dear boy, I
am going to keep you with me all day. We'll breakfast together somewhere
about here--"

"You'll breakfast with me, here, gentlemen--"

"No, thanks," replied the young man. "We shall breakfast at the Donjon
Inn."

"You'll fare very badly there; you'll not find anything--"

"Do you think so? Well, I hope to find something there," replied
Rouletabille. "After breakfast, we'll set to work again. I'll write my
article and if you'll be so good as to take it to the office for me--"

"Won't you come back with me to Paris?"

"No; I shall remain here."

I turned towards Rouletabille. He spoke quite seriously, and Monsieur
Robert Darzac did not appear to be in the least degree surprised.

We were passing by the donjon and heard wailing voices. Rouletabille
asked:

"Why have these people been arrested?"

"It is a little my fault," said Monsieur Darzac. "I happened to remark
to the examining magistrate yesterday that it was inexplicable that the
concierges had had time to hear the revolver shots, to dress themselves,
and to cover so great a distance as that which lies between their lodge
and the pavilion, in the space of two minutes; for not more than that
interval of time had elapsed after the firing of the shots when they
were met by Daddy Jacques."

"That was suspicious evidently," acquiesced Rouletabille. "And were they
dressed?"

"That is what is so incredible--they were dressed--completely--not one
part of their costume wanting. The woman wore sabots, but the man had on
laced boots. Now they assert that they went to bed at half-past nine.
On arriving this morning, the examining magistrate brought with him from
Paris a revolver of the same calibre as that found in the room (for he
couldn't use the one held for evidence), and made his Registrar fire
two shots in The Yellow Room while the doors and windows were closed. We
were with him in the lodge of the concierges, and yet we heard nothing,
not a sound. The concierges have lied, of that there can be no doubt.
They must have been already waiting, not far from the pavilion, waiting
for something! Certainly they are not to be accused of being the authors
of the crime, but their complicity is not improbable. That was why
Monsieur de