Robert Darzac arrived at the chateau towards half-past nine. I saw
him hurrying through the park, his hair and clothes in disorder and
his face a deadly white. Rouletabille and I were looking out of a
window in the gallery. He saw us, and gave a despairing cry: "I'm
too late!"
Rouletabille answered: "She lives!"
A minute later Darzac had gone into Mademoiselle Stangerson's room
and, through the door, we could hear his heart-rending sobs.
"There's a fate about this place!" groaned Rouletabille. "Some
infernal gods must be watching over the misfortunes of this family!
--If I had not been drugged, I should have saved Mademoiselle
Stangerson. I should have silenced him forever. And the keeper
would not have been killed!"
Monsieur Darzac came in to speak with us. His distress was terrible.
Rouletabille told him everything: his preparations for Mademoiselle
Stangerson's safety; his plans for either capturing or for disposing
of the assailant for ever; and how he would have succeeded had it
not been for the drugging.
"If only you had trusted me!" said the young man, in a low tone.
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