That was, in brief, the chief sensation I received from that face in the dim half-light in which I saw it. I saw a man with long hair, a full beard, wild-looking eyes, a pale face, framed in large whiskers,-as well as I could distinguish, and, as I think-red in colour. Above the height of the table the chamber was in darkness. Did I really see it? -The candle on the parquet lit up his legs only. He had heard the grating of the ladder on the wall, and I saw the monstrous back of the man raise itself. "But the murderer had been even quicker than I had been. But, already, my knees were touching the window-sill, and, by a movement quick as lightning, I got on to it.
But-the ladder! I had been obliged to press on it heavily, and my foot had scarcely left it, when I felt it swaying beneath me. A quick spring, and I shall be on the window-ledge. In this moment of approaching success, I feel my heart beating wildly. I am on the uppermost rung of it, and with my left hand seize hold of the window-sill. He is no longer writing now, and the candle is on the parquet, over which he is bending-a position which serves my purpose. I see his monstrous back, deformed by the shadow thrown by the candle. Through an opening in the curtains, the arrangement of which has not been changed, I am ready to look, anxious to note the position in which I am going to find the murderer, -whether his back will still be turned towards me!-whether he is still seated at the desk writing! But perhaps-perhaps-he is no longer there!-Yet how could he have fled?-Was I not in possession of his ladder? I force myself to be cool. "I am again at the window-sill," continues Rouletabille, "and once more I raise my head above it. (EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF JOSEPH ROULETABILLE, continued)
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