journalists will be trying to explain it."

My friend felt this a rap on his knuckles.

"Yes," he said simply, "that is to be feared. They meddle in
everything. As for my interest, monsieur, I only referred to it by
mere chance,--the mere chance of finding myself in the same train
with you, and in the same compartment of the same carriage."

"Where are you going, then?" asked Monsieur de Marquet.

"To the Chateau du Glandier," replied Rouletabille, without turning.

"You'll not get in, Monsieur Rouletabille!"

"Will you prevent me?" said my friend, already prepared to fight.

"Not I!--I like the press and journalists too well to be in any
way disagreeable to them; but Monsieur Stangerson has given orders
for his door to be closed against everybody, and it is well guarded.
Not a journalist was able to pass through the gate of the Glandier
yesterday."

Monsieur de Marquet compressed his lips and seemed ready to relapse
into obstinate silence. He only relaxed a little when Rouletabille
no longer left him in ignorance of the fact that we were going to
the Glandier for the purpose of shaking hands with an "old and
intimate friend," Monsieur Robert Darzac--a man whom Rouletabille
had perhaps seen once in his life.