BREAKFAST AT THE DONJON INN
Bernier—that was the name of the concierge—"we couldn't know while they were keeping us in prison. Besides, as the gentleman comes to the château without passing through our gate he goes away by the way he comes."
"Do you know when he came the first time?"
"Oh yes, Monsieur!—nine years ago."
"He was in France nine years ago, then," said Rouletabille, "and, since that time, as far as you know, how many times has he been at the Glandier?"
"Three times."
"When did he come the last time, as far as you know?"
"A week before the attempt in The Yellow Room."
Rouletabille put another question—this time addressing himself particularly to the woman:—
"In the grove of the parquet?"
"In the grove of the parquet," she replied.
"Thanks!" said Rouletabille. "Be ready for me this evening."
He spoke the last words with a finger on his lips as if to command silence and discretion.
We left the park and took the way to the Donjon Inn.
"Do you often eat here?"
"Sometimes."
"But you also take your meals at the château?"
"Yes, Larsan and I are sometimes served in one of our rooms."
"Hasn't Monsieur Stangerson ever invited you to his own table?"
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