Rouletabille watched his retreat, and then turned toward us, his
face joyous and triumphant.
"I shall beat him!" he cried. "I shall beat the great Fred, clever
as he is; I shall beat them all!"
And he danced a double shuffle. Suddenly he stopped. My eyes
followed his gaze; they were fixed on Monsieur Robert Darzac, who
was looking anxiously at the impression left by his feet side by
side with the elegant footmarks. There was not a particle of
difference between them!
We thought he was about to faint. His eyes, bulging with terror,
avoided us, while his right hand, with a spasmodic movement,
twitched at the beard that covered his honest, gentle, and now
despairing face. At length regaining his self-possession, he bowed
to us, and remarking, in a changed voice, that he was obliged to
return to the chateau, left us.
"The deuce!" exclaimed Rouletabille.
He, also, appeared to be deeply concerned. From his pocket-book he
took a piece of white paper as I had seen him do before, and with
his scissors, cut out the shape of the neat bootmarks that were on
the ground.
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