At last, he gave a grunt of satisfaction and declared "Now I am at ease!" "Well,--do you believe that the poor dear young lady was shut up when she was being murdered--when she cried out for help ?" wailed Daddy Jacques.
"Yes," said the young reporter, drying his forehead, "The Yellow Room was as tightly shut as an iron safe." "That," I said, "is why this mystery is the most surprising I know.
Edgar Allan Poe, in 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue,' invented nothing like it.

The place of that crime was sufficiently closed to prevent the escape of a man; but there was that window through which the monkey, the perpetrator of the murder, could slip away! But here, there can be no question of an opening of any sort.

The door was fastened, and through the window blinds, secure as they were, not even a fly could enter or get out." "True, true," assented Rouletabille as he kept on drying his forehead, which seemed to be perspiring less from his recent bodily exertion than from his mental agitation.

"Indeed, it's a great, a beautiful, and a very curious mystery." "The Bete du bon Dieu," muttered Daddy Jacques, "the Bete du bon Dieu herself, if she had committed the crime, could not have escaped.

Listen! Do you hear it?
Hush!" Daddy Jacques made us a sign to keep quiet and, stretching his arm towards the wall nearest the forest, listened to something which we could not hear.
"It's answering," he said at length.