"Because of what?" asked Rouletabille eagerly.

"Because of nothing," said Larsan, shaking his head.

"Because there were no accomplices!" said Rouletabille.

"Aha!--you have an idea, then, about this matter?" said Larsan,
looking at Rouletabille intently, "yet you have seen nothing, young
man--you have not yet gained admission here!"

"I shall get admission."

"I doubt it. The orders are strict."

"I shall gain admission, if you let me see Monsieur Robert Darzac.
Do that for me. You know we are old friends. I beg of you,
Monsieur Fred. Do you remember the article I wrote about you on
the gold bar case?"

The face of Rouletabille at the moment was really funny to look at.
It showed such an irresistible desire to cross the threshold beyond
which some prodigious mystery had occurred; it appealed with so much
eloquence, not only of the mouth and eyes, but with all its features,
that I could not refrain from bursting into laughter. Frederic
Larsan, no more than myself, could retain his gravity. Meanwhile,
standing on the other side of the gate, he calmly put the key in
his pocket. I closely scrutinised him.

He might be about fifty years of age. He had a fine head, his hair
turning grey; a colourless complexion, and a firm profile. His