THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
fied bearing at such times is better than tears and groans, which, most often, are feigned.
"Now then, enough of that sniveling," cried Monsieur de Marquet; "and, in your interest, tell us what you were doing under the windows of the pavilion at the time your mistress was being attacked; for you were close to the pavilion when Daddy Jacques met you."
"We were coming to help!" they whined.
"If we could only lay hands on the murderer, he'd never taste bread again!" the woman gurgled between her sobs.
As before we were unable to get two connecting thoughts out of them. They persisted in their denials and swore, by heaven and all the saints, that they were in bed when they heard the sound of the revolver shot.
"It was not one, but two shots that were fired!—You see, you are lying. If you had heard one, you would have heard the other."
"Mon Dieu! Monsieur—it was the second shot we heard. We were asleep when the first shot was fired."
"Two shots were fired," said Daddy Jacques. "I am certain that all the cartridges were in my revolver. We found afterward that two had been exploded, and we heard two shots behind the door. Was not that so, Monsieur Stangerson?"
"Yes," replied the Professor, "there were two shots, one dull, and the other sharp and ringing."
"Why do you persist in lying?" cried Monsieur de Marquet, turning to the concierges. "Do you think the police are the fools you are? Everything
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