"The nails of the fingers, the deep scratches on the chest and throat
of Mademoiselle Stangerson show that the wretch who attacked her
attempted to commit a frightful crime. The medical experts who
examined these traces yesterday affirm that they were made by the
same hand as that which left its red imprint on the wall; an enormous
hand, Monsieur, much too large to go into my gloves," he added with
an indefinable smile.
"Could not that blood-stained hand," I interrupted, "have been the
hand of Mademoiselle Stangerson who, in the moment of falling, had
pressed it against the wall, and, in slipping, enlarged the
impression?"
"There was not a drop of blood on either of her hands when she was
lifted up," replied Monsieur Darzac.
"We are now sure," said I, "that it was Mademoiselle Stangerson
who was armed with Daddy Jacques's revolver, since she wounded the
hand of the murderer. She was in fear, then, of somebody or
something."
"Probably."
"Do you suspect anybody?"
"No," replied Monsieur Darzac, looking at Rouletabille. Rouletabille
then said to me:
"You must know, my friend, that the inquiry is a little more advanced
than Monsieur de Marquet has chosen to tell us.
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