The Mystery of the Yellow Room HTML version
In Which Joseph Roultabille Appears for the First Time
I remember as well as if it had occurred yesterday, the entry of young Rouletabille into
my bedroom that morning. It was about eight o'clock and I was still in bed reading the
article in the "Matin" relative to the Glandier crime.
But, before going further, it is time that I present my friend to the reader.
I first knew Joseph Rouletabille when he was a young reporter. At that time I was a
beginner at the Bar and often met him in the corridors of examining magistrates, when I
had gone to get a "permit to communicate" for the prison of Mazas, or for Saint-Lazare.
He had, as they say, "a good nut." He seemed to have taken his head --round as a bullet--
out of a box of marbles, and it is from that, I think, that his comrades of the press--all
determined billiard-players--had given him that nickname, which was to stick to him and
be made illustrious by him. He was always as red as a tomato, now gay as a lark, now
grave as a judge. How, while still so young--he was only sixteen and a half years old
when I saw him for the first time--had he already won his way on the press? That was
what everybody who came into contact with him might have asked, if they had not
known his history. At the time of the affair of the woman cut in pieces in the Rue
Oberskampf--another forgotten story--he had taken to one of the editors of the "Epoque,"-
-a paper then rivalling the "Matin" for information,--the left foot, which was missing
from the basket in which the gruesome remains were discovered. For this left foot the
police had been vainly searching for a week, and young Rouletabille had found it in a
drain where nobody had thought of looking for it. To do that he had dressed himself as an
extra sewer-man, one of a number engaged by the administration of the city of Paris,
owing to an overflow of the Seine.
When the editor-in-chief was in possession of the precious foot and informed as to the
train of intelligent deductions the boy had been led to make, he was divided between the
admiration he felt for such detective cunning in a brain of a lad of sixteen years, and
delight at being able to exhibit, in the "morgue window" of his paper, the left foot of the
"This foot," he cried, "will make a great headline."
Then, when he had confided the gruesome packet to the medical lawyer attached to the
journal, he asked the lad, who was shortly to become famous as Rouletabille, what he
would expect to earn as a general reporter on the "Epoque"?
"Two hundred francs a month," the youngster replied modestly, hardly able to breathe
from surprise at the proposal.