GOTHIC CRIME MYSTERIES: The Phantom of the Opera, The Secret of the Night, The Mystery of the Yellow Room,The Man with the Black Feather & Balaoo. Gaston LerouxЧитать онлайн книгу.
President turning to Madame Mathieu asked:
“Is that in accordance with what you know occurred?”
“Yes, Monsieur President,” she replied, “it is as if Monsieur Rouletabille had been behind us.”
“Did you see the murderer running towards the end of the right wing?”
“Yes, as clearly as I saw them afterwards carrying the keeper’s body.”
“What became of the murderer?—You were in the courtyard and could easily have seen.
“I saw nothing of him, Monsieur President. It became quite dark just then.”
“Then Monsieur Rouletabille,” said the President, “must explain how the murderer made his escape.”
Rouletabille continued:
“It was impossible for the murderer to escape by the way he had entered the court without our seeing him; or if we couldn’t see him we must certainly have felt him, since the court is a very narrow one enclosed in high iron railings.”
“Then if the man was hemmed in that narrow square, how is it you did not find him?—I have been asking you that for the last half hour.”
“Monsieur President,” replied Rouletabille, “I cannot answer that question before half-past six!”
By this time the people in the court-room were beginning to believe in this new witness. They were amused by his melodramatic action in thus fixing the hour; but they seemed to have confidence in the outcome. As for the President, it looked as if he also had made up his mind to take the young man in the same way. He had certainly been impressed by Rouletabille’s explanation of Madame Mathieu’s part.
“Well, Monsieur Rouletabille,” he said, “as you say; but don’t let us see any more of you before half-past six.”
Rouletabille bowed to the President, and made his way to the door of the witnesses’ room.
I quietly made my way through the crowd and left the court almost at the same time as Rouletabille. He greeted me heartily, and looked happy.
“I’ll not ask you, my dear fellow,” I said, smiling, “what you’ve been doing in America; because I’ve no doubt you’ll say you can’t tell me until after half-past six.”
“No, my dear Sainclair, I’ll tell you right now why I went to America. I went in search of the name of the other half of the murderer!”
“The name of the other half?”
“Exactly. When we last left the Glandier I knew there were two halves to the murderer and the name of only one of them. I went to America for the name of the other half.”
I was too puzzled to answer. Just then we entered the witnesses’ room, and Rouletabille was immediately surrounded. He showed himself very friendly to all except Arthur Rance to whom he exhibited a marked coldness of manner. Frederic Larsan came in also. Rouletabille went up and shook him heartily by the hand. His manner toward the detective showed that he had got the better of the policeman. Larsan smiled and asked him what he had been doing in America, Rouletabille began by telling him some anecdotes of his voyage. They then turned aside together apparently with the object of speaking confidentially. I, therefore, discreetly left them and, being curious to hear the evidence, returned to my seat in the court-room where the public plainly showed its lack of interest in what was going on in their impatience for Rouletabille’s return at the appointed time.
On the stroke of half-past six Joseph Rouletabille was again brought in. It is impossible for me to picture the tense excitement which appeared on every face, as he made his way to the bar. Darzac rose to his feet, frightfully pale.
The President, addressing Rouletabille, said gravely:
“I will not ask you to take the oath, because you have not been regularly summoned; but I trust there is no need to urge upon you the gravity of the statement you are about to make.”
Rouletabille looked the President quite calmly and steadily in the face, and replied:
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“At your last appearance here,” said the President, “we had arrived at the point where you were to tell us how the murderer escaped, and also his name. Now, Monsieur Rouletabille, we await your explanation.”
“Very well, Monsieur,” began my friend amidst a profound silence. “I had explained how it was impossible for the murderer to get away without being seen. And yet he was there with us in the courtyard.”
“And you did not see him? At least that is what the prosecution declares.”
“No! We all of us saw him, Monsieur le President!” cried Rouletabille.
“Then why was he not arrested?”
“Because no one, besides myself, knew that he was the murderer. It would have spoiled my plans to have had him arrested, and I had then no proof other than my own reasoning. I was convinced we had the murderer before us and that we were actually looking at him. I have now brought what I consider the indisputable proof.”
“Speak out, Monsieur! Tell us the murderer’s name.”
“You will find it on the list of names present in the court on the night of the tragedy,” replied Rouletabille.
The people present in the court-room began showing impatience. Some of them even called for the name, and were silenced by the usher.
“The list includes Daddy Jacques, Bernier the concierge, and Mr. Arthur Rance,” said the President. “Do you accuse any of these?”
“No, Monsieur!”
“Then I do not understand what you are driving at. There was no other person at the end of the court.”
“Yes, Monsieur, there was, not at the end, but above the court, who was leaning out of the window.”
“Do you mean Frederic Larsan!” exclaimed the President.
“Yes! Frederic Larsan!” replied Rouletabille in a ringing tone. “Frederic Larsan is the murderer!”
The court-room became immediately filled with loud and indignant protests. So astonished was he that the President did not attempt to quiet it. The quick silence which followed was broken by the distinctly whispered words from the lips of Robert Darzac:
“It’s impossible! He’s mad!”
“You dare to accuse Frederic Larsan, Monsieur?” asked the President. “If you are not mad, what are your proofs?”
“Proofs, Monsieur?—Do you want proofs? Well, here is one,” cried Rouletabille shrilly. “Let Frederic Larsan be called!”
“Usher, call Frederic Larsan.”
The usher hurried to the side door, opened it, and disappeared. The door remained open, while all eyes turned expectantly towards it. The clerk re-appeared and, stepping forward, said:
“Monsieur President, Frederic Larsan is not here. He left at about four o’clock and has not been seen since.”
“That is my proof!” cried Rouletabille, triumphantly.
“Explain yourself?” demanded the President.
“My proof is Larsan’s flight,” said the young reporter. “He will not come back. You will see no more of Frederic Larsan.”
“Unless you are playing with the court, Monsieur, why did you not accuse him when he was present? He would then have answered you.”
“He could give no other answer than the one he has now given by his flight.”
“We cannot believe that Larsan has fled. There was no reason for his doing so. Did he know you’d make this charge?”
“He did. I told him I would.”