formerly served as a prison, Monsieur and Madame Bernier, the
concierges, were confined. Monsieur Robert Darzac led us into the
modern part of the chateau by a large door, protected by a
projecting awning--a "marquise" as it is called. Rouletabille,
who had resigned the horse and the cab to the care of a servant,
never took his eyes off Monsieur Darzac. I followed his look and
perceived that it was directed solely towards the gloved hands of
the Sorbonne professor. When we were in a tiny sitting-room
fitted with old furniture, Monsieur Darzac turned to Rouletabille
and said sharply:

"What do you want?"

The reporter answered in an equally sharp tone:

"To shake you by the hand."

Darzac shrank back.

"What does that mean?"

Evidently he understood, what I also understood, that my friend
suspected him of the abominable attempt on the life of
Mademoiselle Stangerson. The impression of the blood-stained hand
on the walls of The Yellow Room was in his mind. I looked at the
man closely. His haughty face with its expression ordinarily so
straightforward was at this moment strangely troubled. He held out
his right hand and, referring to me, said:

"As you are a friend of Monsieur Sainclair who has rendered me