most mysterious and complicated crimes. His reputation was
world-wide, and the police of London, and even of America, often
called him in to their aid when their own national inspectors and
detectives found themselves at the end of their wits and resources.

No one was astonished, then, that the head of the Surete had, at the
outset of the mystery of The Yellow Room, telegraphed his precious
subordinate to London, where he had been sent on a big case of
stolen securities, to return with all haste. Frederic who, at the
Surete, was called the "great Frederic," had made all speed,
doubtless knowing by experience that, if he was interrupted in what
he was doing, it was because his services were urgently needed in
another direction; so, as Rouletabille said, he was that morning
already "at work." We soon found out in what it consisted.

What he was continually looking at in the palm of his right hand
was nothing but his watch, the minute hand of which he appeared
to be noting intently. Then he turned back still running, stopping
only when he reached the park gate, where he again consulted his
watch and then put it away in his pocket, shrugging his shoulders
with a gesture of discouragement. He pushed open the park gate,
reclosed and locked it, raised his head and, through the bars,
perceived us. Rouletabille rushed after him, and I followed.
Frederic Larsan waited for us.

"Monsieur Fred," said Rouletabille, raising his hat and showing the
profound respect, based on admiration, which the young reporter felt
for the celebrated detective, "can you tell me whether Monsieur
Robert Darzac is at the chateau at this moment? Here is one of his
friends, of the Paris Bar, who desires to speak with him."