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Leroux, Gaston, 1868-1927

"Mystery of the Yellow Room"


I retired into the dark closet. I found myself perfectly situated.
I could see along the whole length of the gallery. Nothing,
absolutely nothing could pass there without my seeing it. But what
was going to pass there? Rouletabille's embrace came back to my
mind. I argued that people don't part from each, other in that way
unless on an important or dangerous occasion. Was I then in danger?
My hand closed on the butt of my revolver and I waited. I am not
a hero; but neither am I a coward.
I waited about an hour, and during all that time I saw nothing
unusual. The rain, which had begun to come down strongly towards
nine o'clock, had now ceased.
My friend had told me that, probably, nothing would occur before
midnight or one o'clock in the morning. It was not more than
half-past eleven, however, when I heard the door of Arthur Rance's
room open very slowly. The door remained open for a minute, which
seemed to me a long time. As it opened into the gallery, that is
to say, outwards, I could not see what was passing in the room
behind the door.


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