"'With the concierge I hurried back to the pavilion. The door,
in spite of the furious attempts of Monsieur Stangerson and Bernier
to burst it open, was still holding firm; but at length, it gave
way before our united efforts,--and then what a sight met our eyes!
I should tell you that, behind us, the concierge held the laboratory
lamp--a powerful lamp, that lit the whole chamber.

"'I must also tell you, monsieur, that The Yellow Room is a very
small room. Mademoiselle had furnished it with a fairly large iron
bedstead, a small table, a night-commode; a dressing-table, and two
chairs. By the light of the big lamp we saw all at a glance.
Mademoiselle, in her night-dress, was lying on the floor in the
midst of the greatest disorder. Tables and chairs had been
overthrown, showing that there had been a violent struggle.
Mademoiselle had certainly been dragged from her bed. She was
covered with blood and had terrible marks of finger-nails on her
throat,--the flesh of her neck having been almost torn by the
nails. From a wound on the right temple a stream of blood had run
down and made a little pool on the floor. When Monsieur Stangerson
saw his daughter in that state, he threw himself on his knees beside
her, uttering a cry of despair. He ascertained that she still
breathed. As to us, we searched for the wretch who had tried to
kill our mistress, and I swear to you, monsieur, that, if we had
found him, it would have gone hard with him!

"'But how to explain that he was not there, that he had already
escaped? It passes all imagination!--Nobody under the bed, nobody
behind the furniture!--All that we discovered were traces,
blood-stained marks of a man's large hand on the walls and on the