they are invisible. Finally, we have
waited in a roadside inn, not far from the gate of the chateau, for
the departure of Monsieur de Marquet, the magistrate of Corbeil. At
half-past five we saw him and his clerk and, before he was able to enter
his carriage, had an opportunity to ask him the following question:

"'Can you, Monsieur de Marquet, give us any information as to this
affair, without inconvenience to the course of your inquiry?'

"'It is impossible for us to do it,' replied Monsieur de Marquet. 'I can
only say that it is the strangest affair I have ever known. The more we
think we know something, the further we are from knowing anything!'

"We asked Monsieur de Marquet to be good enough to explain his last
words; and this is what he said,--the importance of which no one will
fail to recognise:

"'If nothing is added to the material facts so far established, I
fear that the mystery which surrounds the abominable crime of which
Mademoiselle Stangerson has been the victim will never be brought to
light; but it is to be hoped, for the sake of our human reason, that
the examination of the walls, and of the ceiling of The Yellow
Room--an examination which I shall to-morrow intrust to the builder who
constructed the pavilion four years ago--will afford us the proof that
may not discourage us. For the problem is this: we know by what way the
assassin gained admission,--he entered by the door and hid himself under
the bed, awaiting Mademoiselle Stangerson. But how did he leave? How did
he escape? If no trap, no secret door, no hiding place, no opening
of any sort is found; if the examination of the walls--even to the
demolition of the pavilion--does not reveal any passage practicable--not
only for a human being, but for any being whatsoever--if the ceiling
shows no crack, if the floor hides no underground passage, one must
really believe in the Devil, as Daddy Jacques says!'"

And the anonymous writer in the "Matin" added in this article--which I
have selected as the most interesting of all those that were published
on the subject of this affair--that the examining magistrate appeared
to place a peculiar significance to the last sentence: "One must really
believe in the Devil, as Jacques says."

The article concluded with these lines: "We wanted to know what Daddy
Jacques meant by the cry of the Bete Du Bon Dieu." The landlord of the
Donjon Inn explained to us that it is the particularly sinister cry
which is u