ra. Rely on me; you shall have word tomorrow
morning."

That evening, on reaching Paris, I saw Monsieur Cassette, dealer in
walking-sticks and umbrellas, and wrote to my friend:

"A man unmistakably answering to the description of Monsieur Robert
Darzac--same height, slightly stooping, putty-coloured overcoat, bowler
hat--purchased a cane similar to the one in which we are interested, on
the evening of the crime, about eight o'clock. Monsieur Cassette had not
sold another such cane during the last two years. Fred's cane is new.
It is quite clear that it's the same cane. Fred did not buy it, since
he was in London. Like you, I think that he found it somewhere near
Monsieur Robert Darzac. But if, as you suppose, the murderer was in The
Yellow Room for five, or even six hours, and the crime was not
committed until towards midnight, the purchase of this cane proves an
incontestable alibi for Darzac."

CHAPTER XIII. "The Presbytery Has Lost Nothing of Its Charm, Nor the
Garden Its Brightness"

A week after the occurrence of the events I have just recounted--on
the 2nd of November, to be exact--I received at my home in Paris the
following telegraphic message: "Come to the Glandier by the earliest
train. Bring revolvers. Friendly greetings. Rouletabille."

I have already said, I think, that at that period, being a young
barrister with but few briefs, I frequented the Palais de Justice rather
for the purpose of familiarising myself with my professional duties than
for the defence of the widow and orphan. I could, therefore, feel no
surprise at Rouletabille disposing of my time. Moreover, he knew how
keenly interested I was in his journalistic adventures in general and,
above all, in the murder at the Glandier. I had not heard from him for a
week, nor of the progress made with that mysterious case, except by the
innumerable paragraphs in the newspapers and by the very brief notes
of Rouletabille in the "Epoque." Those notes had divulged the fact that
traces of human blood had been found on the mutton-bone, as well as
fresh traces of the blood of Mademoiselle Stangerson--the old stains
belonged to other crimes, probably dating years back.

It may be easily imagined that the crime engaged the attention of the
press throughout the world. No crime known had more absorbed the minds
of people. It appeared to me, however, that the judicial inquiry was
making but very little progress; and I should have been very glad, if,