At one time he stooped so low as
almost to touch the ground; at another he drew himself up and
attentively examined the wall; then he looked into the palm of one
of his hands, and walked away with rapid strides. Finally he set
off running, still looking into the palm of his hand. Rouletabille
had brought me to a standstill by a gesture.
"Hush! Frederic Larsan is at work! Don't let us disturb him!"
Rouletabille had a great admiration for the celebrated detective.
I had never before seen him, but I knew him well by reputation.
At that time, before Rouletabille had given proof of his unique
talent, Larsan was reputed as the most skilful unraveller of the
most mysterious and complicated crimes. His reputation was
world-wide, and the police of London, and even of America, often
called him in to their aid when their own national inspectors and
detectives found themselves at the end of their wits and resources.
No one was astonished, then, that the head of the Surete had, at the
outset of the mystery of The Yellow Room, telegraphed his precious
subordinate to London, where he had been sent on a big case of
stolen securities, to return with all haste.
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