“‘That’s easily said. You are always thinking of Robert Darzac. You can’t get rid of that idea? _I_ am certain that he is innocent.’ “‘So much the better. I hope so; but everything condemns him. Did you notice the marks on the carpet?—Come and look at them.’ “‘I have seen them; they are the marks of the neat boots, the same as those we saw on the border of the lake.’ “‘Can you deny that they belong to Robert Darzac?’ “‘Of course, one may be mistaken.’ “‘Have you noticed that those footprints only go in one direction?—that there are no return marks? When the man came from the chamber, pursued by all of us, his footsteps left no traces behind them.’ “‘He had, perhaps, been in the chamber for hours. The mud from his boots had dried, and he moved with such rapidity on the points of his toes—We saw him running, but we did not hear his steps.’ “I suddenly put an end to this idle chatter—void of any logic, and made a sign to Larsan to listen. “‘There—below; some one is shutting a door.’ “I rise; Larsan follows me; we descend to the ground-floor of the château. I lead him to the little semi-circular room under the terrace beneath _the_ window of the ‘off-turning’ gallery. I point to the door, now closed, open a short time before, under which a shaft of light is visible. “‘The forest-keeper!’ says Fred. “‘Come on!’ I whisper. “Prepared—I know not why—to believe that the keeper is the guilty man—I go to the door and rap smartly on it. “Some might think that we were rather late in thinking of the keeper, since our first business, after having found that the murderer had escaped us in the gallery, ought to have been to search everywhere else,—around the château,—in the park— “Had this criticism been made at the time, we could only have answered that the assassin had disappeared from the gallery in such a way that we thought he was no longer _anywhere_! He had eluded us when we all had our hands stretched out ready to seize him—when we were almost touching him. We had no longer any ground for hoping that we could clear up the mystery of that night. “As soon as I rapped at the door it was opened, and the keeper asked us quietly what we wanted. He was undressed and preparing to go to bed. The bed had not yet been disturbed. “We entered and I affected surprise. “‘Not gone to bed yet?’ “‘No,’ he replied roughly. ‘I have been making a round of the park and in the woods. I am only just back—and sleepy. Good-night!’ “‘Listen,’ I said. ‘An hour or so ago, there was a ladder close by your window.’ “‘What ladder?—I did not see any ladder. Good-night!’ “And he simply put us out of the room. When we were outside I looked at Larsan. His face was impenetrable. “‘Well?’ I said. “‘Well?’ he repeated. “‘Does that open out any new view to you?’ “There was no mistaking Larsan’s bad temper. On re-entering the château, I heard him mutter: “‘It would be strange—very strange—if I had deceived myself on that point!’