“That policeman who is always going round and round the lake. Another of those fellows who think they can see better than anybody else!”
“You don’t know Frédéric Larsan, Daddy Jacques, or you would n’t speak of him in that way,” said Rouletabille in a melancholy tone. “If there is anyone who will find the murderer, it will be he.” And Rouletabille heaved a deep sigh.
“Before they find him, they will have to learn how they lost him,” said Daddy Jacques, stolidly.
At length we reached the door of The Yellow Room itself.
“There is the door behind which some terrible scene took place,” said Rouletabille, with a solemnity which, under any other circumstances, would have been comical.
Chapter VII.
In Which Rouletabille Sets out on an Expedition under the Bed
Rouletabille having pushed open the door of The Yellow Room paused on the threshold saying, with an emotion which I only later understood, “Ah, the perfume of the lady in black!”
The chamber was dark. Daddy Jacques was about to open the blinds when Rouletabille stopped him.
“Did not the tragedy take place in complete darkness?” he asked.
“No, young man, I don’t think so. Mademoiselle always had a night-light on her table, and I lit it every evening before she went to bed. I was a sort of chambermaid, you must understand, when the evening came. The real chambermaid did not come here much before the morning. Mademoiselle worked late—far into the night.”