Rouletabille reached the castle about an hour after these events. I watched for his return from the highest part of the western boulevard and as soon as I saw his form appearing in the distance I hurried to meet him. He cut short my demands for an explanation and asked me immediately if I had made a good catch, but I was not at all deceived by the expression of his countenance, and wishing to reply to him in his own style of banter, I replied:
“Oh, yes: a very good catch. I fished up Old Bob.”
He started violently. I shrugged my shoulders, for I believed that he was counterfeiting surprise, and I went on:
“Oh, go on! You knew very well what kind of fish I should find when you sent your message!”
He fixed an astonished glance on me.
“You certainly must be unaware of the purport of your words, my dear Sainclair, or else you would have spared me the trouble of protesting against such an accusation.”
“What accusation?” I cried.
“That of having left Old Bob in the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet, knowing that he might be dying there.”
“Oh, nonsense!” I cried. “Old Bob is far from dying. He has a sprained foot and a broken collar bone, and his story of his misfortune is perfectly plain and straightforward. He declares that he was trying to steal Prince Galitch’s skull.”
“What a funny idea!” exclaimed Rouletabille, bursting out laughing. He leaned toward me and looked full into my eyes.