Old Bob spoke:
“Prince, I do not believe that your last spinal bone goes any further back than the middle of the quarternary period.”
And all the black spectacles turned in his direction.
Rouletabille arose and made a sign to me. I hastened to the council room where he was waiting for me. As soon as I appeared, he closed the door and whispered:
“Well, did you feel it, too?”
I felt smothered. I could scarcely articulate.
“He was there—at that table—unless we are going mad.”
There was a pause and then I resumed, more calmly:
“You know, Rouletabille, that it is quite possible that we are going mad. This phantasm of Larsan will land us all in a madhouse yet! We have been shut up here only two days and see the state we are in!”
Rouletabille interrupted me.