From the height of those branches one might certainly see what was
passing in Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber. Evidently that was
what Rouletabille thought, for, enjoining me to remain hidden, he
clasped the trunk with his vigorous arms and climbed up. I soon
lost sight of him amid the branches, and then followed a deep
silence. In front of me, the open window remained lighted, and I
saw no shadow move across it. I listened, and presently from above
me these words reached my ears:
"After you!"
"After you, pray!"
Somebody was overhead, speaking,--exchanging courtesies. What was
my astonishment to see on the slippery column of the tree two human
forms appear and quietly slip down to the ground. Rouletabille had
mounted alone, and had returned with another.
"Good evening, Monsieur Sainclair!"
It was Frederic Larsan. The detective had already occupied the post
of observation when my young friend had thought to reach it alone.
Neither noticed my astonishment. I explained that to myself by the
fact that they must have been witnesses of some tender and despairing
scene between Mademoiselle Stangerson, lying in her bed, and Monsieur
Darzac on his knees by her pillow.
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