I did as I was ordered and quickly, too, but Rouletabille did not even deign to thank me. Mme. Edith turned like a lioness upon Robert Darzac, who recoiled from her almost in fear as she shrieked:
“You have killed my uncle!”
Her husband and myself, with difficulty, prevented her from flying at him. We entreated her to be calm and to remember that because her uncle had absented himself from the peninsula did not necessarily mean that he had disappeared in the potato sack and we reproached Rouletabille with his brutality in blurting out an idea which could only be, at the present time, at all events, an hypothesis of his uneasy mind. And we added, imploring Mme. Edith to listen to us, that this hypothesis could under no circumstances be looked upon by her either as an injury or an insult, even admitting that it might be the true one, as it would only show the superhuman cunning of Larsan, who must, in that case, have taken the place of her respected uncle. But the young woman ordered her husband to be quiet, and said, turning scornfully to me:
“M. Sainclair, I sincerely hope that my uncle’s absence from here will only be of short duration; for if it should turn out otherwise, I should accuse you of being an accomplice in the most cowardly of murders. As to you, monsieur,” and she turned to Rouletabille, “the mere idea that you have ever dared to compare a man like Larsan with my uncle, the gentlest, kindliest soul and the greatest scholar of his time, forbids me to ever again consider you in the light of a friend, and I hope that you will have the courtesy to relieve me of your presence as soon as possible.”
“Madame,” replied Rouletabille, bowing very low, “I was just about to ask your permission to take leave of you. I have a short journey of twenty-four hours to take. At the expiration of that time, I shall return, ready to be of any possible assistance to you in whatever difficulties may arise in accounting for the disappearance of your uncle.”
“If my uncle has not returned within twenty-four hours, I shall lodge a complaint in the hands of the police, monsieur.”
“It is a good plan, Madame; but before having recourse to it, I advise you to question all the servants in whom you have confidence—particularly Mattoni. You trust Mattoni, do you not?”
“Yes, monsieur, I trust Mattoni.”
“Well, then, Madame, question him—question him. Ah—before I take my departure, allow me to leave with you this excellent and historical book.” And Rouletabille drew a small volume from his pocket.
“What foolery is this?” demanded Mme. Edith, superbly disdainful.