Chapter XXIII

The Double Scent

I had hardly recovered from the surprise into which this new discovery

had plunged me, when Rouletabille touched me on the shoulder and asked

me to follow him into his room.

“What are we going to do there?”

“To think the matter over.”

I confess I was in no condition for doing much thinking, nor could

I understand how Rouletabille could so control himself as to be

able calmly to sit down for reflection when he must have known that

Mademoiselle Stangerson was at that moment almost on the point of

death. But his self-control was more than I could explain. Closing the

door of his room, he motioned me to a chair and, seating himself before

me, took out his pipe. We sat there for some time in silence and then I

fell asleep.

When I awoke it was daylight. It was eight o’clock by my watch.

Rouletabille was no longer in the room. I rose to go out when the door

opened and my friend re-entered. He had evidently lost no time.

“How about Mademoiselle Stangerson?” I asked him.

“Her condition, though very alarming, is not desperate.”

“When did you leave this room?”

“Towards dawn.”

“I guess you have been hard at work?”

“Rather!”

“Have you found out anything?”

“Two sets of footprints!”

“Do they explain anything?”

“Yes.”

“Have they anything to do with the mystery of the keeper’s body?”

“Yes; the mystery is no longer a mystery. This morning, walking round

the château, I found two distinct sets of footprints, made at the same

time, last night. They were made by two persons walking side by side. I

followed them from the court towards the oak grove. Larsan joined me.

They were the same kind of footprints as were made at the time of the

assault in The Yellow Room—one set was from clumsy boots and the other

was made by neat ones, except that the big toe of one of the sets was

of a different size from the one measured in The Yellow Room incident.

I compared the marks with the paper patterns I had previously made.

“Still following the tracks of the prints, Larsan and I passed out of

the oak grove and reached the border of the lake. There they turned off

to a little path leading to the high road to Epinay where we lost the

traces in the newly macadamised highway.

“We went back to the château and parted at the courtyard. We met again,

however, in Daddy Jacques’s room to which our separate trains of

thinking had led us both. We found the old servant in bed. His clothes

on the chair were wet through and his boots very muddy. He certainly

did not get into that state in helping us to carry the body of the

keeper. It was not raining then. Then his face showed extreme fatigue

and he looked at us out of terror-stricken eyes.

“On our first questioning him he told us that he had gone to bed

immediately after the doctor had arrived. On pressing him, however, for

it was evident to us he was not speaking the truth, he confessed that

he had been away from the château. He explained his absence by saying

that he had a headache and went out into the fresh air, but had gone

no further than the oak grove. When we then described to him the whole

route he had followed, he sat up in bed trembling.

“‘And you were not alone!’ cried Larsan.

“‘Did you see it then?’ gasped Daddy Jacques.

“‘What?’ I asked.

“‘The phantom—the black phantom!’

“Then he told us that for several nights he had seen what he kept

calling the black phantom. It came into the park at the stroke of

midnight and glided stealthily through the trees; it appeared to him

to pass through the trunks of the trees. Twice he had seen it from

his window, by the light of the moon, and had risen and followed the

strange apparition. The night before last he had almost overtaken it;

but it had vanished at the corner of the donjon. Last night, however,

he had not left the château, his mind being disturbed by a presentiment

that some new crime would be attempted. Suddenly he saw the black

phantom rush out from somewhere in the middle of the court. He followed

it to the lake and to the high road to Epinay, where the phantom

suddenly disappeared.

“‘Did you see his face?’ demanded Larsan.

“‘No!—I saw nothing but black veils.’

“‘Did you go out after what passed on the gallery?’

“‘I could not!—I was terrified.’

“‘Daddy Jacques,’ I said, in a threatening voice, ‘you did not _follow_

it; you and the phantom walked to Epinay together—arm in arm!’

“‘No!’ he cried, turning his eyes away, ‘I did not. It came on to pour,

and—I turned back. I don’t know what became of the black phantom.’

“We left him, and when we were outside I turned to Larsan, looking him

full in the face, and put my question suddenly to take him off his

guard:

“‘An accomplice?’

“‘How can I tell?’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders. ‘You can’t be

sure of anything in a case like this. Twenty-four hours ago I would

have sworn that there was no accomplice!’ He left me saying he was off

to Epinay.”

“Well, what do you make of it?” I asked Rouletabille, after he had

ended his recital. “Personally I am utterly in the dark. I can’t make

anything out of it. What do you gather?”

“Everything! Everything!” he exclaimed. “But,” he said abruptly, “let’s

find out further about Mademoiselle Stangerson.”