"Have you spoken to him?" I asked.
"Yes, but I could get nothing out of him. His only answers are
grunts and shrugs of the shoulders. He generally lives on the
first floor of the donjon, a big room that once served for an
oratory. He lives like a bear, never goes out without his gun,
and is only pleasant with the girls. The women, for twelve miles
round, are all setting their caps for him. For the present, he is
paying attention to Madame Mathieu, whose husband is keeping a
lynx eye upon her in consequence."
After passing the donjon, which is situated at the extreme end of
the left wing, we went to the back of the chateau. Rouletabille,
pointing to a window which I recognised as the only one belonging
to Mademoiselle Stangerson's apartment, said to me:
"If you had been here, two nights ago, you would have seen your
humble servant at the top of a ladder, about to enter the chateau
by that window."
As I expressed some surprise at this piece of nocturnal gymnastics,
he begged me to notice carefully the exterior disposition of the
chateau.
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