Rouletabille and the Mystery of the Yellow Room by Gaston Leroux

Author:Gaston Leroux [Leroux, Gaston]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Coat Press
Published: 2013-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The Strange and Extraordinary Incident of

the Dissociation of Matter

Excerpts from Joseph Rouletabille’s notebook (con’td.):

I found myself back at the windowsill, and again about to raise my head above it. Through the opening in the curtains, the disposition of which had remained the same, I was anxiously ready to take note of the position in which I expected to find the perpetrator. Would his back still be turned toward me? Would he still be seated at the desk writing? Perhaps he might no longer be there! But how could he have fled? Hadn’t I taken away his ladder? I forced myself to be calm. I raised my head a little higher. I looked inside. He was still there! I saw his monstrous back, distorted by the shadows thrown by the candle. He was no longer writing, but bending over the candle, now on the floor. That position served my purpose.

I held my breath. I climbed up the ladder. I now stood on its uppermost rung. My left hand grabbed the windowsill. In this moment of approaching success, I felt my heart beating wildly. I put the gun between my teeth. Now my right hand grabbed the windowsill too. If I pulled myself up, after a quick jump, I would be standing on the window ledge. But what about the ladder? I was right to be concerned, because I was forced to lean on it a little too heavily, and as soon as my foot left it, I felt it sway beneath me. It scraped against the wall and fell down to the ground. But, my knees were already touching the windowsill and, with matchless speed, I managed to stand on the ledge.

However, the perpetrator had been even quicker than me. He had heard the scraping sound made by the ladder against the wall. I saw his monstrous back turn around. He stood up. Briefly, I saw his face—or thought I did. The candle on the floor only lit his legs. Above the height of the table, the room was only darkness and shadows. I thought I’d seen a man with long hair, a full beard, wild eyes, a pale face, framed in large whiskers. Their color, as much as I could see color during that dark second, was red. Or so it seemed… Or so I believed… I didn’t know that face. That was, in short, the brief impression I received from a face seen briefly in the dim half-light. I didn’t know it—or, at least, I didn’t recognize it!

Now was the time to act quickly! I had to be like the wind! The storm! The lightning! But alas, alas! It took a minimum of a few gestures to extricate oneself from the position in which I stood… As I was about to drop through the window, the man leaped to his feet and rushed toward the door of the anteroom, just as I had foreseen. He had time to open it and flee. But I was already behind him,

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