invaluable services in a just cause, monsieur, I see no reason for
refusing you my hand--"

Rouletabille did not take the extended hand. Lying with the utmost
audacity, he said:

"Monsieur, I have lived several years in Russia, where I have
acquired the habit of never taking any but an ungloved hand."

I thought that the Sorbonne professor would express his anger openly,
but, on the contrary, by a visibly violent effort, he calmed himself,
took off his gloves, and showed his hands; they were unmarked by any
cicatrix.

"Are you satisfied?"

"No!" replied Rouletabille. "My dear friend," he said, turning
to me, "I am obliged to ask you to leave us alone for a moment."

I bowed and retired; stupefied by what I had seen and heard. I
could not understand why Monsieur Robert Darzac had not already
shown the door to my impertinent, insulting, and stupid friend.
I was angry myself with Rouletabille at that moment, for his
suspicions, which had led to this scene of the gloves.


For some twenty minutes I walked about in front of the chateau,
trying vainly to link together the different events of the day.
What was in Rouletabille's mind? Was it possible that he thought
Monsieur Robert Darzac to be the murderer? How could it be