Chapter XXVIII

In Which it is Proved That One Does not Always Think of Everything

Great excitement prevailed when Rouletabille had finished. The

court-room became agitated with the murmurings of suppressed applause.

Maître Henri Robert called for an adjournment of the trial and was

supported in his motion by the public prosecutor himself. The case was

adjourned. The next day Monsieur Robert Darzac was released on bail,

while Daddy Jacques received the immediate benefit of a “no cause for

action.” Search was everywhere made for Frédéric Larsan, but in vain.

Monsieur Darzac finally escaped the awful calamity which, at one time,

had threatened him. After a visit to Mademoiselle Stangerson, he was

led to hope that she might, by careful nursing, one day recover her

reason.

Rouletabille, naturally, became the “man of the hour.” On leaving the

Palais de Justice, the crowd bore him aloft in triumph. The press of

the whole world published his exploits and his photograph. He, who

had interviewed so many illustrious personages, had himself become

illustrious and was interviewed in his turn. I am glad to say that the

enormous success in no way turned his head.

We left Versailles together, after having dined at “The Dog That

Smokes.” In the train I put a number of questions to him which, during

our meal, had been on the tip of my tongue, but which I had refrained

from uttering, knowing he did not like to talk “shop” while eating.

“My friend,” I said, “that Larsan case is wonderful. It is worthy of

you.”

He begged me to say no more, and humorously pretended an anxiety for

me should I give way to silly praise of him because of a personal

admiration for his ability.

“I’ll come to the point, then,” I said, not a little nettled. “I am

still in the dark as to your reason for going to America. When you left

the Glandier you had found out, if I rightly understand, all about

Frédéric Larsan; you had discovered the exact way he had attempted the

murder?”

“Quite so. And you,” he said, turning the conversation, “did you

suspect nothing?”

“Nothing!”

“It’s incredible!”

“I don’t see how I could have suspected anything. You took great pains

to conceal your thoughts from me. Had you already suspected Larsan when

you sent for me to bring the revolvers?”

“Yes! I had come to that conclusion through the incident of the

‘inexplicable gallery.’ Larsan’s return to Mademoiselle Stangerson’s

room, however, had not then been cleared up by the eye-glasses. My

suspicions were the outcome of my reasoning only; and the idea of

Larsan being the murderer seemed so extraordinary that I resolved to

wait for actual evidence before venturing to act. Nevertheless, the

suspicion worried me, and I sometimes spoke to the detective in a way

that ought to have opened your eyes. I spoke disparagingly of his

methods. But until I found the eye-glasses I could but look upon my

suspicion of him in the light of an absurd hypothesis only. You can

imagine my elation after I had explained Larsan’s movements. I remember

well rushing into my room like a madman and crying to you: ‘I’ll get

the better of the great Fred. I’ll get the better of him in a way that

will make a sensation!’

“I was then thinking of Larsan, the murderer. It was that same evening

that Darzac begged me to watch over Mademoiselle Stangerson. I made no

efforts until after we had dined with Larsan, until ten o’clock. He was

right there before me, and I could afford to wait. You ought to have

suspected, because when we were talking of the murderer’s arrival, I

said to you: ‘I am quite sure Larsan will be here to-night.’

“But one important point escaped us both. It was one which ought to

have opened our eyes to Larsan. Do you remember the bamboo cane? I

was surprised to find Larsan had made no use of that evidence against

Robert Darzac. Had it not been purchased by a man whose description

tallied exactly with that of Darzac? Well, just before I saw him off at

the train, after the recess during the trial, I asked him why he hadn’t

used the cane evidence. He told me he had never had any intention of

doing so; that our discovery of it in the little inn at Epinay had

much embarrassed him. If you will remember, he told us then that the

cane had been given him in London. Why did we not immediately say to

ourselves: ‘Fred is lying. He could not have had this cane in London.

He was _not_ in London. He bought it in Paris’? Then you found out,

on inquiry at Cassette’s, that the cane had been bought by a person

dressed very like Robert Darzac, though, as we learned later, from

Darzac himself, it was not he who had made the purchase. Couple this

with the fact we already knew, from the letter at the poste restante,

that there was actually a man in Paris who was passing as Robert

Darzac, why did we not immediately fix on Fred himself?

“Of course, his position at the Sûreté was against us; but when we saw

the evident eagerness on his part to find convicting evidence against

Darzac, nay, even the passion he displayed in his pursuit of the man,

the lie about the cane should have had a new meaning for us. If you ask

why Larsan bought the cane, if he had no intention of manufacturing

evidence against Darzac by means of it, the answer is quite simple. He

had been wounded in the hand by Mademoiselle Stangerson, so that the

cane was useful to enable him to close his hand in carrying it. You

remember I noticed that he always carried it?

“All these details came back to my mind when I had once fixed on Larsan

as the criminal. But they were too late then to be of any use to me.

On the evening when he pretended to be drugged I looked at his hand

and saw a thin silk bandage covering the signs of a slight healing

wound. Had we taken a quicker initiative at the time Larsan told us

that lie about the cane, I am certain he would have gone off, to avoid

suspicion. All the same, we worried Larsan or Ballmeyer without our

knowing it.”

“But,” I interrupted, “if Larsan had no intention of using the cane as

evidence against Darzac, why had he made himself up to look like the

man when he went in to buy it?”

“He had not specially ‘made up’ as Darzac to buy the cane; he had come

straight to Cassette’s immediately after he had attacked Mademoiselle

Stangerson. His wound was troubling him and, as he was passing along

the Avenue de l’Opera, the idea of the cane came to his mind and he

acted on it. It was then eight o’clock. And I, who had hit upon the

very hour of the occurrence of the tragedy, almost convinced that

Darzac was not the criminal, and knowing of the cane, I still never

suspected Larsan. There are times . . .”

“There are times,” I said, “when the greatest intellects . . .”

Rouletabille shut my mouth. I still continued to joke him, but, finding

he did not reply, I saw he was no longer paying any attention to what I

was saying. I found he was fast asleep.