“The important thing now,” he went on, “is not that, at all. It is necessary that we should close the circle. And you will help us do that, M. Darzac. Wait a moment.”
And almost joyously, he threw himself down on all fours and crawled around among the furniture and under the bed as I had seen him do in the Yellow Room. And from time to time, he raised his head to say:
“Ah, I shall find something—something that will save us.”
I answered, looking at M. Darzac: “Aren’t we saved already?”
“Which will save our brains,” Rouletabille went on.
“The boy is right!” exclaimed M. Darzac. “It is absolutely necessary for us to know how that man got into the room.”
Suddenly Rouletabille rose to his feet, holding in his hand a revolver which he had found under the panel.
“Ah! you have found his revolver!” cried M. Darzac. “Fortunately, he did not have time to use it.”
As he spoke M. Darzac took from his pocket his own revolver—the revolver which had saved his life—and held it out to the young man.
“This is a good weapon!” he said.