Rouletabille sat down in an armchair, lit his pipe, which he was
never without, smoked for a few minutes in silence--no doubt to
calm the excitement which, visibly, dominated him--and then
replied:

"Young man," he said, in a tone the sad irony of which I will not
attempt to render, "young man, you are a lawyer and I doubt not your
ability to save the guilty from conviction; but if you were a
magistrate on the bench, how easy it would be for you to condemn
innocent persons!--You are really gifted, young man!"

He continued to smoke energetically, and then went on:

"No trap will be found, and the mystery of The Yellow Room will
become more and more mysterious. That's why it interests me.
The examining magistrate is right; nothing stranger than this crime
has ever been known."

"Have you any idea of the way by which the murderer escaped?" I
asked.

"None," replied Rouletabille--"none, for the present. But I have
an idea as to the revolver; the murderer did not use it."

"Good Heavens! By whom, then, was it used?"

"Why--by Mademoiselle Stangerson."

"I don't understand,--or rather, I have never understood," I said.