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186 The following species are recognized for the genus:

Diagnosis.—Stylonuracea with band-like ventral shield of the prosoma, without epistoma; metastoma broadly pyriform, very wide posteriorly and notched anteriorly and with a broad emargination at the posterior end.

Type genus.—Kokomopterus new genus.

The differences between this family and others are significant. It resembles the Rhenopteridae in the band-like ventral shield and lack of epistoma. However, the totally different metastomas are sufficient for separation, and further comparison with that family as well as the other Stylonuracea is considered superfluous. At present the family is monotypic and is known only from the Silurian of Indiana.

In comparison with the Drepanopteridae, the difference lies in the ovate, anteriorly cordate metastoma as against the altogether different-shaped structure described above for the Kokomopteridae. Previously, the type species of Kokomopterus (K. longicaudatus [Clarke and Ruedemann]) had been mistaken for a Drepanopterus.

Diagnosis.—Kokomopteridae of small size; carapace subquadrate, slightly wider than long, lateral margins parallel; eyes arcuate, with axes parallel, and located in the anterior half of the carapace, considerably apart from one another; ventral shield probably consisting of an undivided plate, with narrow marginal rim; prosomal legs stylonuroid, but increasing posteriorly in a gradual manner; podomere-count: ?–?–?–8–9–9; the second to fifth legs armed with single, unequal, opposable spines; last leg without spines and reaching to the eleventh opisthosomal tergite; all legs terminate in single spine; metastoma broadly pyriform, with narrow notch at anterior end and broadly but slightly emarginate at the posterior; opisthosoma differentiated into a preabdomen of seven tergites and a much narrower postabdomen of five, of which the twelfth tergite is long, rectangular


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CAU came over to Ireland in 1598 in command of a troop of horse. In 1615 he was appointed one of the Council for Munster; and afterwards one of the Commissioners for parcelling out the escheated lands in Ulster. He secured considerable estates for himself. Sir B. Burke writes: "In these employments King James I. found him so faithful, diligent, and prudent, that his Majesty deemed him highly deserving the Peerage of Ireland, and accordingly … created him, 22nd December 1620, Lord Caulfeild, Baron Charlemont." He died 17th August 1627, aged 61, and was buried in Christ Church, Dublin. He was succeeded by his nephew, Sir William.

Caulfeild, Toby, 3rd Baron Charlemont, son of the 2nd Baron, was governor of Charlemont Fort at the breaking out of the War of 1641-'52. On 22nd October 1641, the fort was surprised by Sir Phelim O'Neill, by whose orders, it is said. Lord Charlemont was put to death shortly afterwards. His brother William, the 5th Baron, was mainly instrumental in having Sir Phelim O'Neill taken prisoner and executed, and was in 1665 created a Viscount.

 Caulfeild, James, Earl of Charlemont, great-grandson of the 1st Viscount, was born in Dublin, 18th August 1728. Delicate health obliged his being educated at home, where he early exhibited those strong literary and artistic tastes that clung to him through life. From 1746 to 1754 he spent in continental travel—visiting places of historic interest, cultivating his taste for art, and becoming acquainted with eminent men. Passing through Holland, he went on to Turin, where he formed a life-long intimacy with David Hume. After a winter at Rome (where he conceived an almost filial respect for Benedict XIV.), in company with a party of friends he visited the Greek islands, Constantinople, the Levant, and Egypt. Returning home through Spain and France, he visited the philosopher Montesquieu. In June 1754 he returned to Ireland, in his twenty-sixth year—in the full maturity of his powers, endowed with the most refined intellectual tastes. Foreign travel had not dimmed his love for his native land. He was now created LL.D., appointed Governor of Armagh, and was given a seat at the Privy Council. Ireland was at this time in a most wretched condition. She had lost most of the ground gained by Swift and Molyneux; as Mr. Wills says, "The Irish administration had by art, influence, and the subordinate methods of intrigue, by the management of the public purse, and by the dexterous adjustment and counterpoise of factious interests, gained and preserved an uncontested ascendancy in every department." The mass of the people, ground to the earth by the Penal Laws, passed their lives in a condition of abject misery. Charlemont joined the liberal party, and the first public business in which he concerned himself was an effort to effect a reconciliation between Primate Stone, the virtual governor of Ireland, and Mr. Boyle, Speaker oi the House of Commons. The quarrel was concerning the apportionment of £200,000 Irish surplus. Charlemont apparently succeeded in his good offices, unaware that his relative, Mr. Boyle, had in truth been induced to accede to the Primate by the promise of an Earldom, and £3,000 per annum for thirty-one years. In February 1760 Thurot occupied Carrickfergus and threatened Ulster. Lord Charlemont hastened at once to the north, to command a contingent of the raw levies that poured in for the protection of Belfast. We find the following in his memoirs: "The appearance of these men, many of whom were my own tenants, was singular and formidable. They were drawn up in regular bodies, … some few with old firelocks, but the greater number armed with what is called in Scotland the Loughaber axe, a scythe fixed longitudinally to the end of a long pole, … the town was perfectly undisturbed by tumult, by riot, or even by drunkenness." Before long Thurot was obliged to evacuate Carrickfergus, leaving behind General Flobert and some other wounded officers and men. Flobert, as a prisoner, was received with distinction in Dublin, and Lord Charlemont accompanied him to London. Fellowship with the great minds in the metropolis was his highest pleasure. He was on terms of intimacy with Burke, Johnson, Hume, Goldsmith, Beauclerc, Reynolds, Hogarth, Baretti, and indeed all the members of the great Club, At the coronation of George III. we find him vindicating the right of the Irish Peeresses to walk in the procession—a question which created no little commotion. The liberal tendency of his mind was evinced by his seconding the proposal to permit six Catholic regiments to be raised for the service of Portugal. Government was, however, too suspicious of the Catholics to endorse such a proposition. In the course of 1762 the tithe exactions, landlord oppression, and heavy taxes laid on the cottiers for the making and repairing of roads, culminated in serious disturbances amongst the Protestant population in the north, and led to an emigration to the American colonies. 76

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WEEK after the occurrence of the events I have just recounted—on the 2nd of November, to be exact—I received at my home in Paris the following telegraphic message: "Come to the Glandier by the earliest train. Bring revolvers.  Friendly greetings.  Rouletabille."

I have already said, I think, that at that period, being a young barrister with but few briefs, I frequented the Palais de Justice rather for the purpose of familiarising myself with my professional duties than for the defence of the widow and orphan. I could, therefore, feel no surprise at Rouletabille disposing of my time. Moreover, he knew how keenly interested I was in his journalistic adventures in general and, above all, in the murder at the Glandier. I had not heard from him for a week, nor of the progress made with that mysterious case, except by the innumerable paragraphs in the newspapers and by the very brief notes of Rouletabille in the "Epoque." Those notes had divulged the fact that traces of human blood had been found on the mutton-bone, as well as fresh traces of the blood of


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Rh Mademoiselle Stangerson—the old stains belonged to other crimes, probably dating years back.

It may be easily imagined that the crime engaged the attention of the press throughout the world. No crime known had more absorbed the minds of people. It appeared to me, however, that the judicial inquiry was making but very little progress; and I should have been very glad, if, on the receipt of my friend's invitation to rejoin him at the Glandier, the despatch had not contained the words, "Bring revolvers."

That puzzled me greatly. Rouletabille telegraphing for revolvers meant that there might be occasion to use them. Now, I confess it without shame, I am not a hero. But here was a friend, evidently in danger, calling on me to go to his aid. I did not hesitate long; and after assuring myself that the only revolver I possessed was properly loaded, I hurried towards the Orleans station. On the way I remembered that Rouletabille had asked for two revolvers; I therefore entered a gunsmith's shop and bought an excellent weapon for my friend.

I had hoped to find him at the station at Epinay; but he was not there. However, a cab was waiting for me and I was soon at the Glandier. Nobody was at the gate, and it was only on the threshold of the chateau that I met the young man. He saluted me with a friendly gesture and threw his arms about me, inquiring warmly as to the state of my health.

When we were in the little sitting-room of Rh


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 "Yes; he hardly ever leaves it!—He sleeps there, as I do, at the request of Monsieur Stangerson, who has done for him what Monsieur Robert Darzac has done for me. In spite of the accusation made by Larsan that Monsieur Stangerson knows who the murderer is he yet affords him every facility for arriving at the truth,—just as Darzac is doing for me."

"But you are convinced of Darzac's innocence?"

"At one time I did believe in the possibility of his guilt. That was when we arrived here for the first time.  The time has come for me to tell you what has passed between Monsieur Darzac and myself."

Here Rouletabille interrupted himself and asked me if I had brought the revolvers. I showed him them. Having examined both, he pronounced them excellent, and handed them back to me.

"Shall we have any use for them?" I asked.

"No doubt; this evening. We shall pass the night here—if that won't tire you?"

"On the contrary," I said with an expression that made Rouletabille laugh.

"No, no," he said, "this is no time for laughing. You remember the phrase which was the 'open sesame' of this château full of mystery?"

"Yes," I said, "perfectly,—'The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness.' It was the phrase which you found on the half-burned piece of paper amongst the ashes in the laboratory."


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 at the bottom of the paper, where the flame had not reached, was this date: 23rd of October. Remember this date, it is highly important. I am now going to tell you about that curious phrase. On the evening before the crime, that is to say, on the 23rd, Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson were at a reception at the Elysée. I know that, because I was there on duty, having to interview one of the savants of the Academy of Philadelphia, who was being fêted there. I had never before seen either Monsieur or Mademoiselle Stangerson. I was seated in the room which precedes the Salon des Ambassadeurs, and, tired of being jostled by so many noble personages, I had fallen into a vague reverie, when I scented near me the perfume of the lady in black.

"Do you ask me what is the 'perfume of the lady in black'? It must suffice for you to know that it is a perfume of which I am very fond, because it was that of a lady who had been very kind to me in my childhood,—a lady whom I had always seen dressed in black.  The lady who, that evening, was scented with the perfume of the lady in black, was dressed in white.  She was wonderfully beautiful.  I could not help rising and following her.  An old man gave her his arm and, as they passed, I heard voices say: 'Professor Stangerson and his daughter.'  It was in that way I learned who it was I was following.

"They met Monsieur Robert Darzac, whom I knew by sight. Professor Stangerson, accosted by Mr. Arthur William Rance, one of the


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 and with sides nearly parallel; male operculum unknown; female operculum short, composed of one undivided joint with slightly rounded margins that comprises most of the appendage, and a short triangular termination that is divided into two parts, each of which forms a narrow triangular prong (see fig. 97); telson very narrow, spike-like, forming a conspicuous attenuation in comparison to the metasoma; ornamentation consists of fine to coarse scales and mucrones.

Type species.—Stylonurus (Drepanopterus) longicaudatus Clarke and Ruedemann, 1912.

Derivation of name.—Named from the area of Kokomo, Indiana which has furnished the famous Kokomo eurypterid fauna.

Distribution.—Indiana.

Stratigraphic range.—Upper Silurian.

Remarks.—The genus Kokomopterus differs from Drepanopterus in having a subquadrate carapace with anteriorly located eyes as against a horseshoe shaped carapace with eyes located at midsection. The opisthosoma of Kokomopterus has a clearly differentiated preabdomen as contrasted with the opisthosoma of Drepanopterus, which

. 97. Female (Type B) operculum of Kokomopterus longicaudatus (Clarke and Ruedemann) from the Silurian Kokomo dolomite of Kokomo, Indiana. The mid-line represents the transverse suture. There were no deltoid plates developed. The inner part of the opercular plates and the median organ were covered with setae.


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 seated himself in the great gallery, and Monsieur Robert Darzac led Mademoiselle Stangerson into the conservatory. I followed. The weather was very mild that evening; the garden doors were open. Mademoiselle Stangerson threw a fichu shawl over her shoulders and I plainly saw that it was she who was begging Monsieur Darzac to go with her into the garden. I continued to follow, interested by the agitation plainly exhibited by the bearing of Monsieur Darzac. They slowly passed along the wall abutting on the Avenue Marigny. I took the central alley, walking parallel with them, and then crossed over for the purpose of getting nearer to them. The night was dark, and the grass deadened the sound of my steps. They had stopped under the vacillating light of a gas jet and appeared to be both bending over a paper held by Mademoiselle Stangerson, reading something which deeply interested them. I stopped in the darkness and silence.

"Neither of them saw me, and I distinctly heard Mademoiselle Stangerson repeat, as she was refolding the paper: 'The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness!'—It was said in a tone at once mocking and despairing, and was followed by a burst of such nervous laughter that I think her words will never cease to sound in my ears. But another phrase was uttered by Monsieur Robert Darzac: 'Must I commit a crime, then, to win you?' He was in an extraordinarily agitated state.  He took the hand of Mademoiselle Stangerson and held it for a long time to his lips, and I thought, from the movement


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 of his shoulders, that he was crying. Then they went away.

"When I returned to the great gallery," continued Rouletabille, "I saw no more of Monsieur Robert Darzac, and I was not to see him again until after the tragedy at the Glandier. Mademoiselle was near Mr. Rance, who was talking with much animation, his eyes, during the conversation, glowing with a singular brightness. Mademoiselle Stangerson, I thought, was not even listening to what he was saying, her face expressing perfect indifference.  His face was the red face of a drunkard.  When Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson left, he went to the bar and remained there.  I joined him, and rendered him some little service in the midst of the pressing crowd.  He thanked me and told me he was returning to America three days later, that is to say, on the 26th (the day after the crime).  I talked with him about Philadelphia; he told me he had lived there for five-and-twenty years, and that it was there he had met the illustrious Professor Stangerson and his daughter. He drank a great deal of champagne, and when I left him he was very nearly drunk.

"Such were my experiences on that evening, and I leave you to imagine what effect the news of the attempted murder of Mademoiselle Stangerson produced on me,—with what force those words pronounced by Monsieur Robert Darzac, 'Must I commit a crime, then, to win you?' recurred to me. It was not this phrase, however, that I repeated to him, when we met here at Glandier.  The


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 sentence of the presbytery and the bright garden sufficed to open the gate of the château. If you ask me if I believe now that Monsieur Darzac is the murderer, I must say I do not. I do not think I ever quite thought that. At the time I could not really think seriously of anything. I had so little evidence to go on. But I needed to have at once the proof that he had not been wounded in the hand.

"When we were alone together, I told him how I had chanced to overhear a part of his conversation with Mademoiselle Stangerson in the garden of the Elysée; and when I repeated to him the words, 'Must I commit a crime, then, to win you?' he was greatly troubled, though much less so than he had been by hearing me repeat the phrase about the presbytery. What threw him into a state of real consternation was to learn from me that the day on which he had gone to meet Mademoiselle Stangerson at the Elysée, was the very day on which she had gone to the Post Office for the letter.  It was that letter, perhaps, which ended with the words: 'The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness.'  My surmise was confirmed by my finding, if you remember, in the ashes of the laboratory, the fragment of paper dated October the 23rd. The letter had been written and withdrawn from the Post Office on the same day.

"There can be no doubt that, on returning from the Elysée that night, Mademoiselle Stangerson had tried to destroy that compromising paper. It was in vain that Monsieur Darzac denied that


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 that letter had anything whatever to do with the crime. I told him that in an affair so filled with mystery as this, he had no right to hide this letter; that I was persuaded it was of considerable importance; that the desperate tone in which Mademoiselle Stangerson had pronounced the prophetic phrase,—that his own tears, and the threat of a crime which he had professed after the letter was read—all these facts tended to leave no room for me to doubt. Monsieur Darzac became more and more agitated, and I determined to take advantage of the effect I had produced on him. 'You were on the point of being married, Monsieur,' I said negligently and without looking at him, 'and suddenly your marriage becomes impossible because of the writer of that letter; because as soon as his letter was read, you spoke of the necessity for a crime to win Mademoiselle Stangerson. Therefore there is someone between you and her someone who has attempted to kill her, so that she should not be able to marry!' And I concluded with these words: 'Now, monsieur, you have only to tell me in confidence the name of the murderer!'—The words I had uttered must have struck him ominously, for when I turned my eyes on him, I saw that his face was haggard, the perspiration standing on his forehead, and terror showing in his eyes.

"'Monsieur,' he said to me, 'I am going to ask of you something which may appear insane, but in exchange for which I place my life in your hands. You must not tell the magistrates of what


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 you saw and heard in the garden of the Elysee,—neither to them nor to anybody. I swear to you, that I am innocent, and I know, I feel, that you believe me; but I would rather be taken for the guilty man than see justice go astray on that phrase, "The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness." The judges must know nothing about that phrase. All this matter is in your hands. Monsieur, I leave it there; but forget the evening at the Elysée. A hundred other roads are open to you in your search for the criminal. I will open them for you myself. I will help you. Will you take up your quarters here?—You may remain here to do as you please.—Eat—sleep here—watch my actions—the actions of all here. You shall be master of the Glandier, Monsieur; but forget the evening at the Elysée.'"

Rouletabille here paused to take breath. I now understood what had appeared so unexplainable in the demeanour of Monsieur Robert Darzac towards my friend, and the facility with which the young reporter had been able to install himself on the scene of the crime. My curiosity could not fail to be excited by all I had heard. I asked Rouletabille to satisfy it still further. What had happened at the Glandier during the past week?—Had he not told me that there were surface indications against Monsieur Darzac much more terrible than that of the cane found by Larsan?

"Everything seems to be pointing against him," replied my friend, "and the situation is becoming exceedingly grave. Monsieur Darzac appears not


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 to mind it much; but in that he is wrong. I was interested only in the health of Mademoiselle Stangerson, which was daily improving, when something occurred that is even more mysterious than—than the mystery of The Yellow Room!"

"Impossible!" I cried, "What could be more mysterious than that?"

"Let us first go back to Monsieur Robert Darzac," said Rouletabille, calming me. "I have said that everything seems to be pointing against him. The marks of the neat boots found by Frederic Larsan appear to be really the footprints of Mademoiselle Stangerson's fiancé.  The marks made by the bicycle may have been made by his bicycle.  He had usually left it at the château; why did he take it to Paris on that particular occasion?  Was it because he was not going to return again to the château?  Was it because, owing to the breaking off of his marriage, his relations with the Stangersons were to cease?  All who are interested in the matter affirm that those relations were to continue unchanged.

"Frédéric Larsan, however, believes that all relations were at an end. From the day when Monsieur Darzac accompanied Mademoiselle Stangerson to the Grands Magasins de la Louvre until the day after the crime, he had not been at the Glandier.  Remember that Mademoiselle Stangerson lost her reticule containing the key with the brass head while she was in his company.  From that day to the evening at the Elysée, the Sorbonne professor and Mademoiselle Stangerson did not see one another; but they may have written to each other.


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 Mademoiselle Stangerson went to the Post Office to get a letter, which Larsan says was written by Robert Darzac; for knowing nothing of what had passed at the Elysée, Larsan believes that it was Monsieur Darzac himself who stole the reticule with the key, with the design of forcing her consent, by getting possession of the precious papers of her father—papers which he would have restored to him on condition that the marriage engagement was to be fulfilled.

"All that would have been a very doubtful and almost absurd hypothesis, as Larsan admitted to me, but for another and much graver circumstance. In the first place here is something which I have not been able to explain—Monsieur Darzac had himself, on the 24th, gone to the Post Office to ask for the letter which Mademoiselle had called for and received on the previous evening. The description of the man who made application tallies in every respect with the appearance of Monsieur Darzac, who, in answer to the questions put to him by the examining magistrate, denies that he went to the Post Office.  Now even admitting that the letter was written by him—which I do not believe—he knew that Mademoiselle Stangerson had received it, since he had seen it in her hands in the garden at the Elysée.  It could not have been he, then, who had gone to the Post Office, the day after the 24th, to ask for a letter which he knew was no longer there.

"To me it appears clear that somebody, strongly resembling him, stole Mademoiselle Stangerson's reticule and in that letter, had demanded of her something


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 which she had not sent him. He must have been surprised at the failure of his demand, hence his application at the Post Office, to learn whether his letter had been delivered to the person to whom it had been addressed. Finding that it had been claimed, he had become furious. What had he demanded? Nobody but Mademoiselle Stangerson knows. Then, on the day following, it is reported that she had been attacked during the night, and, the next day, I discovered that the Professor had, at the same time, been robbed by means of the key referred to in the poste restante letter. It would seem, then, that the man who went to the Post Office to inquire for the letter must have been the murderer. All these arguments Larsan applies as against Monsieur Darzac. You may be sure that the examining magistrate, Larsan, and myself, have done our best to get from the Post Office precise details relative to the singular personage who applied there on the 24th of October. But nothing has been learned. We don't know where he came from—or where he went. Beyond the description which makes him resemble Monsieur Darzac, we know nothing.

"I have announced in the leading journals that a handsome reward will be given to a driver of any public conveyance who drove a fare to No. 40, Post Office, about ten o'clock on the morning of the 24th of October. Information to be addressed to 'M. R.,' at the office of the 'Epoque'; but no answer has resulted.  The man may have walked; but, as he was most likely in a hurry, there was a chance that he might have gone in a


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 cab. Who, I keep asking myself night and day, is the man who so strongly resembles Monsieur Robert Darzac, and who is also known to have bought the cane which has fallen into Larsan's hands?

"The most serious fact is that Monsieur Darzac was, at the very same time that his double presented himself at the Post Office, scheduled for a lecture at the Sorbonne. He had not delivered that lecture, and one of his friends took his place.  When I questioned him as to how he had employed the time, he told me that he had gone for a stroll in the Bois de Boulogne.  What do you think of a professor who, instead of giving his lecture, obtains a substitute to go for a stroll in the Bois de Boulogne?  When Frédéric Larsan asked him for information on this point, he quietly replied that it was no business of his how he spent his time in Paris.  On which Fred swore aloud that he would find out, without anybody's help.

"All this seems to fit in with Fred's hypothesis, namely, that Monsieur Stangerson allowed the murderer to escape in order to avoid a scandal. The hypothesis is further substantiated by the fact that Darzac was in The Yellow Room and was permitted to get away.  That hypothesis I believe to be a false one.—Larsan is being misled by it, though that would not displease me, did it not affect an innocent person.  Now does that hypothesis really mislead Frédéric Larsan? That is the question—that is the question."

"Perhaps he is right," I cried, interrupting Rouletabille. "Are you sure that Monsieur


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 is innocent?—It seems to me that these are extraordinary coincidences—"

"Coincidences," replied my friend, "are the worst enemies to truth."

"What does the examining magistrate think now of the matter?"

"Monsieur de Marquet hesitates to accuse Monsieur Darzac, in the absence of absolute proofs. Not only would he have public opinion wholly against him, to say nothing of the Sorbonne, but Monsieur and Mademoiselle Stangerson.  She adores Monsieur Robert Darzac. Indistinctly as she saw the murderer, it would be hard to make the public believe that she could not have recognised him, if Darzac had been the criminal.  No doubt The Yellow Room was very dimly lit; but a night-light, however small, gives some light.  Here, my boy, is how things stood when, three days, or rather three nights ago, an extraordinarily strange incident occurred."


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MUST take you," said Rouletabille, "so as to enable you to understand, to the various scenes. I myself believe that I have discovered what everybody else is searching for, namely, how the murderer escaped from The Yellow Room, without any accomplice, and without Mademoiselle Stangerson having had anything to do with it. But so long as I am not sure of the real murderer, I cannot state the theory on which I am working. I can only say that I believe it to be correct and, in any case, a quite natural and simple one. As to what happened in this place three nights ago, I must say it kept me wondering for a whole day and a night. It passes all belief. The theory I have formed from the incident is so absurd that I would rather matters remained as yet unexplained."

Saying which the young reporter invited me to go and make the tour of the château with him. The only sound to be heard was the crunching of the dead leaves beneath our feet. The silence was so intense that one might have thought the château had been abandoned. The old stones, the stagnant water of the ditch surrounding the donjon, the bleak ground strewn with the dead leaves, the dark, skeleton-like outlines of the trees, all contributed


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 to give to the desolate place, now filled with its awful mystery, a most funereal aspect. As we passed round the donjon, we met the Green Man, the forest-keeper, who did not greet us, but walked by as if we had not existed. He was looking just as I had formerly seen him through the window of the Donjon Inn. He had still his fowling-piece slung at his back, his pipe was in his mouth, and his eye-glasses on his nose.

"An odd kind of fish!" Rouletabille said to me, in a low tone.

"Have you spoken to him?" I asked.

"Yes, but I could get nothing out of him. His only answers are grunts and shrugs of the shoulders.  He generally lives on the first floor of the donjon,—a big room that once served for an oratory.  He lives like a bear, never goes out without his gun, and is only pleasant with the girls.  The women, for twelve miles round, are all setting their caps for him.  For the present, he is paying attention to Madame Mathieu, whose husband is keeping a lynx eye upon her in consequence."

After passing the donjon, which is situated at the extreme end of the left wing, we went to the back of the château. Rouletabille, pointing to a window which I recognised as the only one belonging to Mademoiselle Stangerson's apartment, said to me:—

"If you had been here, two nights ago, you would have seen your humble servant at the top of a ladder, about to enter the château by that window."

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Rh nocturnal gymnastics, he begged me to notice carefully the exterior disposition of the château. We then went back into the building.

"I must now show you the first floor of the château, where I am living," said my friend.

To enable the reader the better to understand the disposition of these parts of the dwelling, I annex a plan of the first floor of the right wing, drawn by Rouletabille the day after the extraordinary phenomenon occurred, the details of which I am about to relate.

1. Position where Rouletabille placed Frédéric Larsan.

2. Position where Rouletabille placed Daddy Jacques.

3. Position where Rouletabille placed Monsieur Stangerson.

4. Window by which Rouletabille entered.

Rh


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 5. Window found open by Rouletabille when he left the room. He re-closed it. All the other doors and windows were shut.

6. Terrace surmounting a projecting room on the ground-floor.

Rouletabille motioned me to follow him up a magnificent flight of stairs ending in a landing on the first floor. From this landing one could pass to the right or left wing of the château by a gallery opening from it. This gallery, high and wide, extended along the whole length of the building and was lit from the front of the château facing the north. The rooms, the windows of which looked to the south, opened out of the gallery. Professor Stangerson inhabited the left wing of the building. Mademoiselle Stangerson had her apartment in the right wing.

We entered the gallery to the right. A narrow carpet, laid on the waxed oaken floor, which shone like glass, deadened the sound of our footsteps. Rouletabille asked me, in a low tone, to walk carefully, as we were passing the door of Mademoiselle Stangerson's apartment. This consisted of a bed-room, an ante-room, a small bath-room, a boudoir, and a drawing-room. One could pass from one to another of these rooms without having to go by way of the gallery. The gallery continued straight to the western end of the building, where it was lit by a high window (window 2 on the plan). At about two-thirds of its length this gallery, at a right angle, joined another gallery following the course of the right wing.

The better to follow this narrative, we shall call


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188 is entirely undifferentiated. In the latter the tergites of the metasoma are very wide and conical and almost grade into the wide (anteriorly), wedge-shaped or clavate telson. A very important difference lies in the presence of spines in the fourth walking leg of Kokomopterus as compared to the non-spinous character of the same leg in Drepanopterus. The last podomere of the fifth or last walking leg in all species of Drepanopterus terminates in a falcate, and presumably flattened, slightly expanded spine as against the narrow conical shape of the corresponding leg in Kokomopterus. The metastomas, of course, are entirely different.

One species is recognized for the genus:

Part of the generic description and the basis for family separation are derived from new data. A specimen from the Silurian Kokomo dolomite, at Yeoman Quarry, Kokomo, Indiana, which was collected by W. P. Leutze in 1959 and kindly presented to me (No. 74 temporarily in my collection), reveals many details of considerable taxonomic

importance. The overall length of the specimen is estimated at 11 cm. The most interesting feature is the shape of the metastoma, which is roughly oval, with a narrow notch at the anterior and a broad base which is slightly cordate or emarginate (see fig. 98). It measures 8.1 mm. in length and 7.2 mm. in greatest width (see fig. 95). The female, or Type B (see fig. 97), operculum is well preserved, showing even such details as the setae. The appendage is small, about one-third the length of the operculum, and consists of an


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 the gallery leading from the stairs to the eastern window, the "right" gallery and the gallery quitting it at a right angle, the "off-turning" gallery (winding gallery in the plan). It was at the meeting point of the two galleries that Rouletabille had his chamber, adjoining that of Frederic Larsan, the door of each opening on to the "off-turning" gallery, while the doors of Mademoiselle Stangerson's apartment opened into the "right" gallery. (See the plan.)

Rouletabille opened the door of his room and after we had passed in, carefully drew the bolt. I had not had time to glance round the place in which he had been installed, when he uttered a cry of surprise and pointed to a pair of eye-glasses on a side-table.

"What are these doing here?" he asked.

I should have been puzzled to answer him.

"I wonder," he said, "I wonder if this is what I have been searching for. I wonder if these are the eye-glasses from the presbytery!"

He seized them eagerly, his fingers caressing the glass. Then looking at me, with an expression of terror on his face, he murmured, "Oh!—Oh!"

He repeated the exclamation again and again, as if his thoughts had suddenly turned his brain.

He rose and, putting his hand on my shoulder, laughed like one demented as he said:

"Those glasses will drive me silly! Mathematically speaking the thing is possible; but humanly speaking it is impossible—or afterwards—or afterwards—"


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 Two light knocks struck the door. Rouletabille opened it. A figure entered. I recognised the concierge, whom I had seen when she was being taken to the pavilion for examination. I was surprised, thinking she was still under lock and key. This woman said in a very low tone:—

"In the grove of the parquet."

Rouletabille replied: "Thanks."—The woman then left. He again turned to me, his look haggard, after having carefully refastened the door, muttering some incomprehensible phrases.

"If the thing is mathematically possible, why should it not be humanly!—And if it is humanly possible, the matter is simply awful."

I interrupted him in his soliloquy:

"Have they set the concierges at liberty, then?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, "I had them liberated, I needed people I could trust. The woman is thoroughly devoted to me, and her husband would lay down his life for me."

"Oho!" I said, "when will he have occasion to do it?"

"This evening,—for this evening I expect the murderer."

"You expect the murderer this evening? Then you know him?"

"I shall know him; but I should be mad to affirm, categorically, at this moment that I do know him. The mathematical idea I have of the murderer gives results so frightful, so monstrous, that I hope it is still possible that I am mistaken.  I hope so, with all my heart!"


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 "Five minutes ago, you did not know the murderer; how can you say that you expect him this evening?"

"Because I know that he must come."

Rouletabille very slowly filled his pipe and lit it. That meant an interesting story. At that moment we heard some one walking in the gallery and passing before our door. Rouletabille listened. The sound of the footstep died away in the distance.

"Is Frédéric Larsan in his room?" I asked, pointing to the partition.

"No," my friend answered. "He went to Paris this morning,—still on the scent of Darzac, who also left for Paris. That matter will turn out badly.  I expect that Monsieur Darzac will be arrested in the course of the next week.  The worst of it is that everything seems to be in league against him,—circumstances, things, people. Not an hour passes without bringing some new evidence against him. The examining magistrate is overwhelmed by it—and blind."

"Frédéric Larsan, however, is not a novice," I said.

"I thought so," said Rouletabille, with a slightly contemptuous turn of his lips, "I fancied he was a much abler man. I had, indeed, a great admiration for him, before I got to know his method of working. It's deplorable.  He owes his reputation solely to his ability; but he lacks reasoning power—the mathematics of his ideas are very poor."

I looked closely at Rouletabille and could not


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 help smiling, on hearing this boy of eighteen talking of a man who had proved to the world that he was the finest police sleuth in Europe.

"You smile," he said? "you are wrong! I swear I will outwit him—and in a striking way!  But I must make haste about it, for he has an enormous start on me—given him by Monsieur Robert Darzac, who is this evening going to increase it still more.  Think of it!—every time the murderer comes to the château, Monsieur Darzac, by a strange fatality, absents himself and refuses to give any account of how he employs his time."

"Every time the assassin comes to the château!" I cried. "Has he returned then—?"

"Yes, during that famous night when the strange phenomenon occurred."

I was now going to learn about the astonishing phenomenon to which Rouletabille had made allusion half an hour earlier without giving me any explanation of it. But I had learned never to press Rouletabille in his narratives. He spoke when the fancy took him and when he judged it to be right. He was less concerned about my curiosity than he was for making a complete summing up for himself of any important matter in which he was interested.

At last, in short rapid phrases, he acquainted me with things which plunged me into a state bordering on complete bewilderment. Indeed, the results of that still unknown science known as hypnotism, for example, were not more inexplicable than the disappearance of the matter of the murderer at the moment when four persons were within


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 touch of him. I speak of hypnotism as I would of electricity, for of the nature of both we are ignorant and we know little of their laws. I cite these examples because, at the time, the case appeared to me to be only explicable by the inexplicable,—that is to say, by an event outside of known natural laws. And yet, if I had had Rouletabille's brain, I should, like him, have had a presentiment of the natural explanation; for the most curious thing about all the mysteries of the Glandier case was the natural manner in which he explained them.

I have among the papers that were sent me by the young man, after the affair was over, a note-book of his, in which a complete account is given of the phenomenon of the disappearance of the "matter" of the assassin, and the thoughts to which it gave rise in the mind of my young friend. It is preferable, I think, to give the reader this account, rather than continue to reproduce my conversation with Rouletabille; for I should be afraid, in a history of this nature, to add a word that was not in accordance with the strictest truth.


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AST night—the night between the 29th and 30th of October—" wrote Joseph Rouletabille, "I woke up towards one o'clock in the morning. Was it sleeplessness, or noise without?—The cry of the Bête du Bon Dieu rang out with sinister loudness from the end of the park. I rose and opened the window. Cold wind and rain; opaque darkness; silence. I reclosed my window. Again the sound of the cat's weird cry in the distance. I partly dressed in haste. The weather was too bad for even a cat to be turned out in it. What did it mean, then—that imitating of the mewing of Mother Angenoux' cat so near the château? I seized a good-sized stick, the only weapon I had, and, without making any noise, opened the door.

"The gallery into which I went was well lit by a lamp with a reflector. I felt a keen current of air and, on turning, found the window open, at the extreme end of the gallery, which I call the 'off-turning' gallery, to distinguish it from the 'right' gallery, on to which the apartment of Mademoiselle Stangerson opened.  These two galleries cross each other at right angles.  Who had


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 left that window open? Or, who had come to open it? I went to the window and leaned out. Five feet below me there was a sort of terrace over the semi-circular projection of a room on the ground-floor. One could, if one wanted, jump from the window on to the terrace, and allow oneself to drop from it into the court of the château. Whoever had entered by this road had, evidently, not had a key to the vestibule door. But why should I be thinking of my previous night's attempt with the ladder?—Because of the open window—left open, perhaps, by the negligence of a servant? I reclosed it, smiling at the ease with which I built a drama on the mere suggestion of an open window.

"Again the cry of the Bête du Bon Dieu!—and then silence. The rain ceased to beat on the window.  All in the château slept.  I walked with infinite precaution on the carpet of the gallery.  On reaching the corner of the 'right' gallery, I peered round it cautiously.  There was another lamp there with a reflector which quite lit up the several objects in it,—three chairs and some pictures hanging on the wall.  What was I doing there?  Perfect silence reigned throughout.  Everything was sunk in repose.  What was the instinct that urged me towards Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber?  Why did a voice within me cry: 'Go on, to the chamber of Mademoiselle Stangerson!'  I cast my eyes down upon the carpet on which I was treading and saw that my steps were being directed towards Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber by the marks of steps that had already been made there.  Yes, on the carpet were


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 traces of footsteps stained with mud leading to the chamber of Mademoiselle Stangerson. Horror! Horror!—I recognised in those footprints the impression of the neat boots of the murderer! He had come, then, from without in this wretched night. If you could descend from the gallery by way of the window, by means of the terrace, then you could get into the château by the same means.

"The murderer was still in the château, for here were marks as of returning footsteps. He had entered by the open window at the extremity of the 'off-turning' gallery; he had passed Frédéric Larsan's door and mine, had turned to the right, and had entered Mademoiselle Stangerson's room.  I am before the door of her ante-room—it is open.  I push it, without making the least noise. Under the door of the room itself I see a streak of light.  I listen—no sound—not even of breathing!  Ah!—if I only knew what was passing in the silence that is behind that door!  I find the door locked and the key turned on the inner side.  And the murderer is there, perhaps.  He must be there!  Will he escape this time?—All depends on me!—I must be calm, and above all, I must make no false steps.  I must see into that room.  I can enter it by Mademoiselle Stangerson's drawing-room; but, to do that I should have to cross her boudoir; and while I am there, the murderer may escape by the gallery door—the door in front of which I am now standing.

"I am sure that no other crime is being


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 on this night; for there is complete silence in the boudoir, where two nurses are taking care of Mademoiselle Stangerson until she is restored to health.

"As I am almost sure that the murderer is there, why do I not at once give the alarm? The murderer may, perhaps, escape; but, perhaps, I may be able to save Mademoiselle Stangerson's life. Suppose the murderer on this occasion is not here to murder?  The door has been opened to allow him to enter; by whom?—And it has been refastened—by whom?—Mademoiselle Stangerson shuts herself up in her apartment with her nurses every night.  Who turned the key of that chamber to allow the murderer to enter?—The nurses,—two faithful domestics?  The old chambermaid, Sylvia?  It is very improbable.  Besides, they slept in the boudoir, and Mademoiselle Stangerson, very nervous and careful, Monsieur Robert Darzac told me, sees to her own safety since she has been well enough to move about in her room, which I have not yet seen her leave.  This nervousness and sudden care on her part, which had struck Monsieur Darzac, had given me, also, food for thought. At the time of the crime in The Yellow Room, there can be no doubt that she expected the murderer. Was he expected this night?—Was it she herself who had opened her door to him? Had she some reason for doing so? Was she obliged to do it?—Was it a meeting for purposes of crime?—Certainly it was not a lover's meeting, for I believe Mademoiselle Stangerson adores Monsieur Darzac.


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 "All these reflections ran through my brain like a flash of lightning. What would I not give to know!

"It is possible that there was some reason for the awful silence. My intervention might do more harm than good. How could I tell? How could I know I might not any moment cause another crime?  If I could only see and know, without breaking that silence!

"I left the ante-room and descended the central stairs to the vestibule and, as silently as possible, made my way to the little room on the ground-floor where Daddy Jacques had been sleeping since the attack made at the pavilion.

"I found him dressed, his eyes wide open, almost haggard. He did not seem surprised to see me.  He told me that he had got up because he had heard the cry of the Bête du bon Dieu, and because he had heard footsteps in the park, close to his window, out of which he had looked and, just then, had seen a black shadow pass by.  I asked him whether he had a firearm of any kind.  No, he no longer kept one, since the examining magistrate had taken his revolver from him. We went out together, by a little back door, into the park, and stole along the château to the point which is just below Mademoiselle Stangerson's window.

"I placed Daddy Jacques against the wall, ordering him not to stir from the spot, while I, taking advantage of a moment when the moon was hidden by a cloud, moved to the front of the window, out of the patch of light which came from it,—for the window was half-open! If I could


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 only know what was passing in that silent chamber! I returned to Daddy Jacques and whispered the word 'ladder' in his ear. At first I had thought of the tree which, a week ago, served me for an observatory; but I immediately saw that, from the way the window was half-opened, I should not be able to see from that point of view anything that was passing in the room; and I wanted, not only to see, but to hear, and—to act.

"Greatly agitated, almost trembling, Daddy Jacques disappeared for a moment and returned without the ladder, but making signs to me with his arms, as signals to me to come quickly to him. When I got near him he gasped: 'Come!'

"He led me round the château, past the donjon. Arrived there, he said:

"'I went to the donjon in search of my ladder, and in the lower part of the donjon which serves me and the gardener for a lumber room, I found the door open and the ladder gone. On coming out, that's what I caught sight of by the light of the moon.

"And he pointed to the further end of the château, where a ladder stood resting against the stone brackets supporting the terrace, under the window which I had found open. The projection of the terrace had prevented my seeing it.  Thanks to that ladder, it was quite easy to get into the 'off-turning' gallery of the first floor, and I had no doubt of it having been the road taken by the unknown.

"We ran to the ladder, but at the moment of reaching it, Daddy Jacques drew my attention to


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 the half-open door of the little semi-circular room, situated under the terrace, at the extremity of the right wing of the château, having the terrace for its roof. Daddy Jacques pushed the door open a little further and looked in.

"'He's not there!" he whispered.

"Who is not there?"

"The forest-keeper."

With his lips once more to my ear, he added:

"'Do you know that he has slept in the upper room of the donjon ever since it was restored?' And with the same gesture he pointed to the half-open door, the ladder, the terrace, and the windows in the 'off-turning' gallery which, a little while before, I had re-closed.

"What were my thoughts then? I had no time to think.  I felt more than I thought.

"Evidently, I felt, if the forest-keeper is up there in the chamber (I say, if, because at this moment, apart from the presence of the ladder and his vacant room, there are no evidences which permit me even to suspect him)—if he is there, he has been obliged to pass by the ladder, and the rooms which lie behind his, in his new lodging, are occupied by the family of the steward and by the cook, and by the kitchens, which bar the way by the vestibule to the interior of the château. And if he had been there during the evening on any pretext, it would have been easy for him to go into the gallery and see that the window could be simply pushed open from the outside.  This question of the unfastened window easily narrowed the field of search for the murderer.


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 He must belong to the house, unless he had an accomplice, which I do not believe he had; unless—unless Mademoiselle Stangerson herself had seen that that window was not fastened from the inside. But, then,—what could be the frightful secret which put her under the necessity of doing away with obstacles that separated her from the murderer?

"I seized hold of the ladder, and we returned to the back of the château to see if the window of the chamber was still half-open. The blind was drawn but did not join and allowed a bright stream of light to escape and fall upon the path at our feet. I planted the ladder under the window.  I am almost sure that I made no noise; and while Daddy Jacques remained at the foot of the ladder, I mounted it, very quietly, my stout stick in my hand.  I held my breath and lifted my feet with the greatest care.  Suddenly a heavy cloud discharged itself at that moment in a fresh downpour of rain.

"At the same instant the sinister cry of the Bête du bon Dieu arrested me in my ascent. It seemed to me to have come from close by me—only a few yards away.  Was the cry a signal?—Had some accomplice of the man seen me on the ladder!—Would the cry bring the man to the window?—Perhaps!  Ah, there he was at the window! I felt his head above me.  I heard the sound of his breath!  I could not look up towards him; the least movement of my head, and—I might be lost.  Would he see me?—Would he peer into the darkness? No; he went away.  He had seen nothing.  I felt, rather than heard, him moving


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 on tip-toe in the room; and I mounted a few steps higher. My head reached to the level of the window-sill; my forehead rose above it; my eyes looked between the opening in the blinds—and I saw—

A man seated at Mademoiselle Stangerson's little desk, writing. His back was turned toward me. A candle was lit before him, and he bent over the flame, the light from it projecting shapeless shadows. I saw nothing but a monstrous, stooping back.

"Mademoiselle Stangerson herself was not there!—Her bed had not been lain on! Where, then, was she sleeping that night?  Doubtless in the side-room with her women.  Perhaps this was but a guess.  I must content myself with the joy of finding the man alone.  I must be calm to prepare my trap.

"But who, then, is this man writing there before my eyes, seated at the desk, as if he were in his own home? If there had not been that ladder under the window; if there had not been those footprints on the carpet in the gallery; if there had not been that open window, I might have been led to think that this man had a right to be there, and that he was there as a matter of course and for reasons about which as yet I knew nothing.  But there was no doubt that this mysterious unknown was the man of The Yellow Room,—the man to whose murderous assault Mademoiselle Stangerson—without denouncing him—had had to submit.  If I could but see his face!  Surprise and capture him!


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 "If I spring into the room at this moment, he will escape by the right-hand door opening into the boudoir,—or crossing the drawing-room, he will reach the gallery and I shall lose him. I have him now and in five minutes more he'll be safer than if I had him in a cage.—What is he doing there, alone in Mademoiselle Stangerson's room?—What is he writing?  I descend and place the ladder on the ground.  Daddy Jacques follows me.  We re-enter the château.  I send Daddy Jacques to wake Monsieur Stangerson, and instruct him to await my coming in Mademoiselle Stangerson's room and to say nothing definite to him before my arrival.  I will go and awaken Frédéric Larsan.  It's a bore to have to do it, for I should have liked to work alone and to have carried off all the honors of this affair myself, right under the very nose of the sleeping  detective.  But Daddy Jacques and Monsieur Stangerson are old men, and I am not yet fully developed. I might not be strong enough. Larsan is used to wrestling and putting on the handcuffs. He opened his eyes swollen with sleep, ready to send me flying, without in the least believing in my reporter's fancies. I had to assure him that the man was there!

"'That's strange!' he said; 'I thought I left him this afternoon in Paris.'

"He dressed himself in haste and armed himself with a revolver. We stole quietly into the gallery.

"'Where is he?' Larsan asked.

"'In Mademoiselle Stangerson's room.

"'And—Mademoiselle Stangerson?'

"'She is not in there.'


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 "'Let's go in.'

"'Don't go there! On the least alarm the man will escape.  He has four ways by which to do it—the door, the window, the boudoir, or the room in which the women are sleeping.'

"'I'll draw him from below.'

"'And if you fail?—If you only succeed in wounding him—he'll escape again, without reckoning that he is certainly armed. No, let me direct the expedition, and I'll answer for everything.'

"'As you like,' he replied, with fairly good grace.

"Then, after satisfying myself that all the windows of the two galleries were thoroughly secure, I placed Frédéric Larsan at the end of the 'off-turning' gallery, before the window which I had found open and had reclosed.

"'Under no consideration,' I said to him, 'must you stir from this post till I call you. The chances are even that the man, when he is pursued, will return to this window and try to save himself that way; for it is by that way he came in and made a way ready for his flight.  You have a dangerous post.'

"'What will be yours?' asked Fred.

"'I shall spring into the room and knock him over for you.'

"'Take my revolver,' said Fred, 'and I'll take your stick.'

"'Thanks,' I said; 'You are a brave man.'

"I accepted his offer. I was going to be alone with the man in the room writing and was really thankful to have the weapon.


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 "I left Fred, having posted him at the window (No. 5 on the plan), and, with the greatest precaution, went towards Monsieur Stangerson's apartment in the left wing of the château. I found him with Daddy Jacques, who had faithfully obeyed my directions, confining himself to asking his master to dress as quickly as possible.  In a few words I explained to Monsieur Stangerson what was passing.  He armed himself with a revolver, followed me, and we were all three speedily in the gallery.  Since I had seen the murderer seated at the desk ten minutes had elapsed.  Monsieur Stangerson wished to spring upon the assassin at once and kill him.  I made him understand that, above all, he must not, in his desire to kill him, miss him.

"When I had sworn to him that his daughter was not in the room, and in no danger, he conquered his impatience and left me to direct the operations. I told them that they must come to me the moment I called to them, or when I fired my revolver.  I then sent Daddy Jacques to place himself before the window at the end of the 'right' gallery.  (No. 2 on my plan.)  I chose that position 'for Daddy Jacques because I believed that the murderer, tracked, on leaving the room, would run through the gallery towards the window which he had left open, and, instantly seeing that it was guarded by Larsan, would pursue his course along the 'right' gallery.  There he would encounter Daddy Jacques, who would prevent his springing out of the window into the park.  Under that window there was a sort of buttress, while all the


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, rather broad lanceolate joint, with two triangular joints at the distal end. A transverse suture occurs at the midsection of the opercular flaps. The lanceolate joint, as well as the surrounding parts of the operculum, are very hirsute, being covered with dark brown tactile setae. The fine punctation that occurs on the triangular points likely represents sites where the setae had broken away. The carapace measures 19.4 mm. in length with an estimated width of 26.0 mm. The ventral shield apparently comprises an undivided, or non-sutured, plate of 6 mm. in width at the anterior part. There is no trace of an epistoma, or of sutures, although the preservation of this part does not allow complete confidence. The prosomal appendages of this specimen are too poorly preserved for description. The dorsal side of the specimen, however, retains the original coloration as is common with the eurypterids of the Kokomo assemblage. The specimen is shiny, fairly dark brown; but curiously it reveals a narrow, very dark brown line, over one millimeter wide, that runs through the center of the dorsal length of the opisthosoma. This is not to be mistaken for a suture as it is definitely a color distinction. This is the first instance of a purely colored ornamentational pattern known in the stylonuroids. The dorsal side is covered with scales, most of which are semi-lunar in shape; others become rather pointed. The doublures of the tergites are heavily hirsute.

Diagnosis.—Stylonuracea with ventral shield having median suture, but no epistoma; metastoma pyriform, slightly concave anteriorly, broadly rounded posteriorly.

The family remains monotypic and is known only from the Devonian of Germany and possibly New York.

Diagnosis.—Carapace longer than wide, rounded anteriorly, and with lateral eyes reniform, located slightly in front of midsection; first two (or three) pairs of walking legs with spines, last two pairs without spines; male appendage short, with two distal spurs; podomere-count: ?–7–8–8–9–9.

Type species.—Rhenopterus diensti Størmer, 1951.

Distribution.—Germany and New York (?).


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 other windows in the galleries were at such a height from the ground that it was almost impossible to jump from them without breaking one's neck. All the doors and windows, including those of the lumber-room at the end of the 'right' gallery—as I had rapidly assured myself—were strongly secured.

"Having indicated to Daddy Jacques the post he was to occupy, and having seen him take up his position, I placed Monsieur Stangerson on the landing at the head of the stairs not far from the door of his daughter's ante-room, rather than the boudoir, where the women were, and the door of which must have been locked by Mademoiselle Stangerson herself if, as I thought, she had taken refuge in the boudoir for the purpose of avoiding the murderer who was coming to see her. In any case, he must return to the gallery where my people were awaiting him at every possible exit.

"On coming there, he would see on his left, Monsieur Stangerson; he would turn to the right, towards the 'off-turning' gallery—the way he had pre-arranged for flight, where, at the intersection of the two galleries, he would see at once, as I have explained, on his left,  Frédéric Larsan at the end of the 'off-turning' gallery, and in front, Daddy Jacques, at the end of the 'right' gallery.  Monsieur Stangerson and myself would arrive by way of the back of the château.—He is ours!—He can no longer escape us!  I was sure of that.


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 "The plan I had formed seemed to me the best, the surest, and the most simple. It would, no doubt, have been simpler still, if we had been able to place some one directly behind the door of Mademoiselle's boudoir, which opened out of her bedchamber, and, in that way, had been in a position to besiege the two doors of the room in which the man was.  But we could not penetrate the boudoir except by way of the drawing-room, the door of which had been locked on the inside by Mademoiselle Stangerson.  But even if I had had the free disposition of the boudoir, I should have held to the plan I had formed; because any other plan of attack would have separated us at the moment of the struggle with the man, while my plan united us all for the attack, at a spot which I had selected with almost mathematical precision,—the intersection of the two galleries.

"Having so placed my people, I again left the château, hurried to my ladder, and, replacing it, climbed up, revolver in hand.

"If there be any inclined to smile at my taking so many precautionary measures, I refer them to the mystery of The Yellow Room, and to all the proofs we have of the weird cunning of the murderer. Further, if there be some who think my observations needlessly minute at a moment when they ought to be completely held by rapidity of movement and decision of action, I reply that I have wished to report here, at length and completely, all the details of a plan of attack conceived so rapidly that it is only the slowness of my pen that gives an appearance of slowness to the


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 I have wished, by this slowness and precision, to be certain that nothing should be omitted from the conditions under which the strange phenomenon was produced, which, until some natural explanation of it is forthcoming, seems to me to prove, even better than the theories of Professor Stangerson, the Dissociation of Matter—I will even say, the instantaneous Dissociation of Matter."


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190 The following species are recognized for this genus:

Diagnosis.—Stylonuracea with ventral shield having well developed epistoma; metastoma broadly sub-rectangular, slightly emarginate anteriorly and posteriorly.

Type genus.—Laurieipterus, new genus.

Remarks.—The Laurieipteridae is composed of the genera Laurieipterus, Ctenopterus, Hallipterus and Mazonipterus, all of which are characterized by unusually long carapaces, and were generally grouped together, more or less, under the genus Ctenopterus. Laurie, however, as early as 1899 (pl. 2, fig. 3), had revealed the unusual rectangular metastoma, and this was verified by Waterston (1962, p. 145, text-fig. 3) who also worked out the details of the ventral shield.

The family Laurieipteridae is easily separated from all the other families of the Stylonuracea. In comparison with those families which have a developed epistoma, namely, the Stylonuridae and Pageidae, the greatest dissimilarity lies in the altogether different metastomas. That of the Stylonuridae is very narrow and deeply notched anteriorly, whereas in the Pageidae it is "coffin-shaped," or elongated, with the anterior wider, and both anterior and posterior ends truncated. This is in sharp contrast to the broad sub-rectangular metastoma of the Laurieipteridae.

Diagnosis.—Laurieipteridae of medium-size, carapace enormously elongated, very narrow at the base but with the lateral margins greatly expanded at midsection; anterior rounded with ornamentation of crenulations; lateral eyes small and arcuate, anteriorly located and well apart; ocelli located in front of the lateral eyes; legs powerful and not excessively long; podomere-count: ?–?–7–8–8–8; spines developed on all but last two walking legs, which are completely bare, the spines increasing in length along the posterior side of each joint; ventral shield with well developed epistoma and with triangular transverse


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AM again at the window-sill," continues Rouletabille, "and once more I raise my head above it. 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 raise my head yet higher. I look—he is still there. I see his monstrous back, deformed by the shadow thrown by the candle. 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 hold my breath. I mount the ladder.  I am on the uppermost rung of it, and with my left hand seize hold of the window-sill.  In this moment of approaching success, I feel my heart beating wildly.  I put my revolver between my teeth.  A quick


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 spring, and I shall be on the window-ledge. 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. It grated on the wall and fell. But, already, my knees were touching the window-sill, and, by a movement quick as lightning, I got on to it.

"But the murderer had been even quicker than I had been. He had heard the grating of the ladder on the wall, and I saw the monstrous back of the man raise itself.  I saw his head.  Did I really see it?—The candle on the parquet lit up his legs only.  Above the height of the table the chamber was in darkness.  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.  I did not know the face.  That was, in brief, the chief sensation I received from that face in the dim half-light in which I saw it.  I did not know it—or, at least, I did not recognise it.

"Now for quick action! It was indeed time for that, for as I was about to place my legs through the window, the man had seen me, had bounded to his feet, had sprung—as I foresaw he would—to the door of the ante-chamber, had time to open it, and fled.  But I was already behind him, revolver in hand, shouting 'Help!'

"Like an arrow I crossed the room, but noticed a letter on the table as I rushed. I almost came up with the man in the ante-room, for he had lost time in opening the door to the gallery.  I flew on wings, and in the gallery was but a few


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 feet behind him. He had taken, as I supposed he would, the gallery on his right,—that is to say, the road he had prepared for his flight. 'Help, Jacques!—help, Larsan!' I cried. He could not escape us! I raised a shout of joy, of savage victory. The man reached the intersection of the two galleries hardly two seconds before me for the meeting which I had prepared—the fatal shock which must inevitably take place at that spot! We all rushed to the crossing-place—Monsieur Stangerson and I coming from one end of the right gallery, Daddy Jacques coming from the other end of the same gallery, and Frederic Larsan coming from the 'off-turning' gallery.

"The man was not there!

"We looked at each other stupidly and with eyes terrified. The man had vanished like a ghost.  'Where is he—where is he?' we all asked.

"'It is impossible he can have escaped!' I cried, my terror mastered by my anger.

"'I touched him!' exclaimed Frédéric Larsan.

"'I felt his breath on my face!' cried Daddy Jacques.

"'Where is he?'—where is he?' we all cried.

"We raced like madmen along the two galleries; we visited doors and windows—they were closed, hermetically closed. They had not been opened.  Besides, the opening of a door or window by this man whom we were hunting, without our having perceived it, would have been more inexplicable than his disappearance.

"Where is he?—where is he?—He could not have got away by a door or a window, nor by any


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 other way. He could not have passed through our bodies!

"I confess that, for the moment, I felt 'done for.' For the gallery was perfectly lighted, and there was neither trap, nor secret door in the walls, nor any sort of hiding-place. We moved the chairs and lifted the pictures.  Nothing!—nothing!  We would have looked into a flower-pot, if there had been one to look into!"

When this mystery, thanks to Rouletabille, was naturally explained, by the help alone of his masterful mind, we were able to realise that the murderer had got away neither by a door, a window, nor the stairs—a fact which the judges would not admit.


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 line clearly separating the anterior rostral area from the inclined rear of the shield; opisthosoma is unknown except as fragments.

Type species.—Stylonurus elegans Laurie, 1899.

Derivation of generic name.—Named in honor of Malcolm Laurie for his many original contributions to our knowledge of Eurypterida and Scorpionida.

Distribution.—Scotland.

Stratigraphic range.—Silurian, Gala-Tarannon.

Remarks.—Laurieipterus differs greatly from the other genera of the Laurieipteridae, and comparison is needed only with Ctenopterus, the genus under which this strange eurypterid had been included since the Clarke and Ruedemann monograph of 1912. Firstly, the carapaces are very different; that of Laurieipterus is highly bulbous at midsection with an extremely narrow base, as against the anteriorly converging carapace of Ctenopterus with its wide base and unusual cheek pouches. The latter has a greatly different arrangement of the spines of the anterior legs, and has one podomere more on the last two legs. There are numerous other differences not necessary to detail here (see Clarke and Ruedemann, 1912, p. 286; Laurie, 1899, p. 580, and Waterston, 1962, p. 143).

Diagnosis.—Laurieipteridae of small size; carapace elongated oval, longer than wide, and with widest part in posterior fourth, narrowing anteriorly to less than half the width, anterior margin prominent and ornamented with fringe of spines; lateral eyes elongated arcuate, with median ocelli approximately midway between; two oval cheek-like ridges are on each side of the carapace; first and second appendages unknown, third and fourth very long and armed with slender, paired spines of even length, the last two walking legs extremely long, the sixth reaching to the twelfth tergite, these two legs terete and bare of spines, all legs terminating in a pointed, conical joint; podomere-count: ?–?–8–8–9–9; metastoma unknown; preabdomen slender, but well differentiated from the postabdomen; opercula not well known; telson presumably a long spike; ornamentation highly variable, consisting of pustules and scales.

Type species.—Stylonurus cestrotus Clarke, 1907.

Distribution.—New York.

Stratigraphic range.—Silurian.


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ADEMOISELLE STANGERSON appeared at the door of her ante-room," continues Rouletabille's note-book. "We were near her door in the gallery where this incredible phenomenon had taken place. There are moments when one feels as if one's brain were about to burst. A bullet in the head, a fracture of the skull, the seat of reason shattered—with only these can I compare the sensation which exhausted and left me void of sense.

"Happily, Mademoiselle Stangerson appeared on the threshold of her ante-room. I saw her, and that helped to relieve my chaotic state of mind. I breathed her—I inhaled the perfume of the lady in black, whom I should never see again.  I would have given ten years of my life—half my life—to see once more the lady in black!  Alas! I no more meet her but from time to time,—and yet!—and yet! how the memory of that perfume—felt by me alone—carries me back to the days of my childhood.  It was this sharp reminder


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 from my beloved perfume, of the lady in black, which made me go to her—dressed wholly in white and so pale—so pale and so beautiful!—on the threshold of the inexplicable gallery. Her beautiful golden hair, gathered into a knot on the back of her neck, left visible the red star on her temple which had so nearly been the cause of her death. When I first got on the right track of the mystery of this case I had imagined that, on the night of the tragedy in The Yellow Room, Mademoiselle Stangerson had worn her hair in bands. But then, how could I have imagined otherwise when I had not been in The Yellow Room!

"But now, since the occurrence of the inexplicable gallery, I did not reason at all. I stood there, stupid, before the apparition—so pale and so beautiful—of Mademoiselle Stangerson.  She was clad in a dressing-gown of dreamy white.  One might have taken her to be a ghost—a lovely phantom.  Her father took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, as if he had recovered her after being long lost to him.  I dared not question her. He drew her into the room and we followed them,—for we had to know!—The door of the boudoir was open.  The terrified faces of the two nurses craned towards us.  Mademoiselle Stangerson inquired the meaning of all the disturbance.  That she was not in her own room was quite easily explained—quite easily.  She had a fancy not to sleep that night in her chamber, but in the boudoir with her nurses, locking the door on them.  Since the night of the crime she had experienced


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 feelings of terror, and fears came over her that are easily to be comprehended.

"But who could imagine that on that particular night when he was to come, she would, by a mere chance, determine to shut herself in with her women? Who would think that she would act contrary to her father's wish to sleep in the drawing-room?  Who could believe that the letter which had so recently been on the table in her room would no longer be there?  He who could understand all this, would have to assume that Mademoiselle Stangerson knew that the murderer was coming—she could not prevent his coming again—unknown to her father, unknown to all but to Monsieur Robert Darzac.  For he must know it now—perhaps he had known it before!  Did he remember that phrase in the Elysée garden: 'Must I commit a crime, then, to win you?' Against whom the crime, if not against the obstacle, against the murderer?  'Ah, I would kill him with my own hand!'—And I replied, 'You have not answered my question.' That was the very truth. In truth, in truth, Monsieur Darzac knew the murderer so well that—while wishing to kill him himself—he was afraid I should find him. There could be but two reasons why he had assisted me in my investigation. First, because I forced him to do it; and, second, because she would be the better protected.

"I am in the chamber—her room. I look at her, also at the place where the letter had just now been.  She has possessed herself of it; it was evidently intended for her—evidently.  How she trembles!—Trembles at the strange story her


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 father is telling her, of the presence of the murderer in her chamber, and of the pursuit. But it is plainly to be seen that she is not wholly satisfied by the assurance given her until she had been told that the murderer, by some incomprehensible means, had been able to elude us.

"Then follows a silence. What a silence!  We are all there—looking at her—her father, Larsan, Daddy Jacques and I.  What were we all thinking of in the silence?  After the events of that night, of the mystery of the inexplicable gallery, of the prodigious fact of the presence of the murderer in her room, it seemed to me that all our thoughts might have been translated into the words which were addressed to her.  'You who know of this mystery, explain it to us, and we shall perhaps be able to save you.  How I longed to save her—for herself, and, from the other!—It brought the tears to my eyes.

"She is there, shedding about her the perfume of the lady in black. At last, I see her, in the silence of her chamber. Since the fatal hour of the mystery of The Yellow Room, we have hung about this invisible and silent woman to learn what she knows.  Our desires, our wish to know must be a torment to her.  Who can tell that, should we learn the secret of her mystery, it would not precipitate a tragedy more terrible than that which had already been enacted here? Who can tell if it might not mean her death?  Yet it had brought her close to  death,—and we still knew nothing.  Or, rather, there are some of us who know nothing.  But I—if I knew who,


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 I should know all. Who?—Who?—Not knowing who, I must remain silent, out of pity for her. For there is no doubt that she knows how he escaped from The Yellow Room, and yet she keeps the secret. When I know who, I will speak to him—to him!"

"She looked at us now—with a far-away look in her eyes—as if we were not in the chamber. Monsieur Stangerson broke the silence. He declared that, henceforth, he would no more absent himself from his daughter's apartments.  She tried to oppose him in vain.  He adhered firmly to his purpose.  He would install himself there this very night, he said.  Solely concerned for the health of his daughter, he reproached her for having left her bed.  Then he suddenly began talking to her as if she were a little child.  He smiled at her and seemed not to know either what he said or what he did.  The illustrious professor had lost his head.  Mademoiselle Stangerson in a tone of tender distress said: 'Father!—father!' Daddy Jacques blows his nose, and Frédéric Larsan himself is obliged to turn away to hide his emotion.  For myself, I am able neither to think or feel.  I felt an infinite contempt for myself.

"It was the first time that Frédéric Larsan, like myself, found himself face to face with Mademoiselle Stangerson since the attack in The Yellow Room.  Like me, he had insisted on being allowed to question the unhappy lady; but he had not, any more than had I, been permitted.  To him, as to me, the same answer had always been given: Mademoiselle Stangerson was too weak to receive


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 The questionings of the examining magistrate had over-fatigued her. It was evidently intended not to give us any assistance in our researches. I was not surprised; but Frédéric Larsan had always resented this conduct. It is true that he and I had a totally different theory of the crime.

"I still catch myself repeating from the depths of my heart: 'Save her!—save her without his speaking!' Who is he—the murderer? Take him and shut his mouth.  But Monsieur Darzac made it clear that in order to shut his mouth he must be killed.  Have I the right to kill Mademoiselle Stangerson's murderer?  No, I had not.  But let him only give me the chance!  Let me find out whether he is really a creature of flesh and blood!—Let me see his dead body, since it cannot be taken alive.

"If I could but make this woman, who does not even look at us, understand! She is absorbed by her fears and by her father's distress of mind.  And I can do nothing to save her.  Yes, I will go to work once more and accomplish wonders.

"I move towards her. I would speak to her.  I would entreat her to have confidence in me.  I would, in a word, make her understand—she alone—that I know how the murderer escaped from The Yellow Room—that I have guessed the motives for her secrecy—and that I pity her with all my heart.  But by her gestures she begged us to leave her alone, expressing weariness and the need for immediate  rest.  Monsieur Stangerson asked us to go back to our rooms and thanked us. Frédéric  Larsan and I bowed to him and, followed by


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 Daddy Jacques, we regained the gallery. I heard Larsan murmur: 'Strange! strange!' He made a sign to me to go with him into hisroom. On the threshold he turned towards Daddy Jacques.

"'Did you see him distinctly?' he asked.

"'Who?'

"'The man?'

"'Saw him!—why, he had a big red beard and red hair.'

"'That's how he appeared to me,' I said.

"'And to me,' said Larsan.

"The great Fred and I were alone in his chamber, now, to talk over this thing. We talked for an hour, turning the matter over and viewing it from every side.  From the questions put by him, from the explanation which he gives me, it is clear to me that—in spite of all our senses—he is persuaded the man disappeared by some secret passage in the château known to him alone.

"'He knows the château,' he said to me; 'he knows it well.'

"'He is a rather tall man—well-built,' I suggested.

"'He is as tall as he wants to be,' murmured Fred.

"'I understand,' I said; 'but how do you account for his red hair and beard?'

"'Too much beard—too much hair—false,' says Fred.

"'That's easily said. You are always thinking of Robert Darzac. You can't get rid of that idea?  I am certain that he is innocent.'

"'So much the better. I hope so; but


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 condemns him. Did you notice the marks on the carpet?—Come and look at them.'

"'I have seen them; they are the marks of the neat boots, the same as those we saw on the border of the lake.'

"'Can you deny that they belong to Robert Darzac?'

"'Of course, one may be mistaken.'

"'Have you noticed that those footprints only go in one direction?—that there are no return marks? When the man came from the chamber, pursued by all of us, his footsteps left no traces behind them.'

"'He had, perhaps, been in the chamber for hours. The mud from his boots had dried, and he moved with such rapidity on the points of his toes—We saw him running, but we did not hear his steps.'

"I suddenly put an end to this idle chatter—void of any logic, and made a sign to Larsan to listen.

"'There—below; some one is shutting a door.'

"I rise; Larsan follows me; we descend to the ground-floor of the château. I lead him to the little semi-circular room under the terrace beneath the window of the 'off-turning' gallery.  I point to the door, now closed, open a short time before, under which a shaft of light is visible.

"'The forest-keeper!' says Fred.

"'Come on!' I whisper.

"Prepared—I know not why—to believe that the keeper is the guilty man—I go to the door and rap smartly on it.


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 "Some might think that we were rather late in thinking of the keeper, since our first business, after having found that the murderer had escaped us in the gallery, ought to have been to search everywhere else,—around the château,—in the park—

"Had this criticism been made at the time, we could only have answered that the assassin had disappeared from the gallery in such a way that we thought he was no longer anywhere! He had eluded us when we all had our hands stretched out ready to seize him—when we were almost touching him.  We had no longer any ground for hoping that we could clear up the mystery of that night.

"As soon as I rapped at the door it was opened, and the keeper asked us quietly what we wanted. He was undressed and preparing to go to bed.  The bed had not yet been disturbed.

"We entered and I affected surprise.

"'Not gone to bed yet?'

"'No,' he replied roughly. 'I have been making a round of the park and in the woods.  I am only just back—and sleepy.  Good-night!'

"'Listen,' I said. 'An hour or so ago, there was a ladder close by your window.'

"'What ladder?—I did not see any ladder. Good-night!'

"And he simply put us out of the room. When we were outside I looked at Larsan.  His face was impenetrable.

"'Well?' I said.

"'Well?' he repeated.

"'Does that open out any new view to you?'


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 "There was no mistaking Larsan's bad temper. On re-entering the château, I heard him mutter:

"'It would be strange—very strange—if I had deceived myself on that point!'

"He seemed to be talking to me rather than to himself. He added:

"'In any case, we shall soon know what to think. The morning will bring light with it.'"


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192 Remarks.—The differences between Ctenopterus and Laurieipterus have been described above in discussion of the latter genus. In comparison with Hallipterus and Mazonipterus the differences lie in the position and characteristics of the eyes and the altogether different ornamentation.

Only one species is recognized for the genus Ctenopterus:

Diagnosis.—Laurieipteridae of large size; carapace subelliptical, longer than wide, truncated at the base and surrounded by a prominent but unornamented marginal rim; lateral eyes very small, arcuate, close-set and centrally located on the carapace and separated by a prominent median ridge with large ocelli located at the posterior extremity; conspicuous orbital ridges surround the lateral eyes anteriorly and laterally; the ornamentation comprises coarse elongate and confluent pustules arranged in concentric lines particularly prominent on the anterior of the carapace; chelicera simple, elongated; first walking leg with flat movable spines; rest of appendages and opisthosoma unknown.

Type species.—Stylonurus excelsior Hall, 1883.

Distribution.—New York and Pennsylvania.

Stratigraphic range.—Upper Devonian.

Remarks.—This genus of gigantic eurypterids is composed of two famous species, Hallipterus excelsior (Hall) of New York and H. lacoanus (Claypole) of Pennsylvania, and is well known through the famous restorations of Beecher, and later of Clarke and Ruedemann. Unfortunately, these well known restorations, except for the carapace and first legs, were based mainly on the opisthosoma and appendages of other Stylonuracea. Differences between this genus and Laurieipterus or Ctenopterus have been discussed under the Remarks on those genera.

Diagnosis.—Stylonuridae of medium size; carapace very elongated, with lateral eyes arcuate and placed anteriorly on the carapace; greatest width of carapace occurs midway; palpebral lobe attached to carapace by a narrow bridge on outer-posterior part of lobe;


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 marginal rim very narrow, simple, not ornamented; ornamentation smooth; no other parts known.

Type species.—Mazonipterus cyclophthalmus Kjellesvig-Waering, 1963.

Distribution.—Illinois and Czechoslovakia (?).

Stratigraphic range.—Middle Pennsylvanian (Illinois); Lower Carboniferous? (Czechoslovakia.)

Remarks.—There is a marked resemblance of this form to Laurieipterus and Ctenopterus, but the very different type of eyes precludes further comparison. It should be noted that in the holotype, the ventral shield had been reflected through, although preservation did not permit detailed description; it is important to record that the triangular transverse line, marking off the anterior rostral area from the inclined posterior part, as in Limulus, and in Brachyopterella, Laurieipterus, and other Stylonuracea as well, was discernible. It might therefore be rather safe to speculate that this genus retained an epistoma.

The genus comprises one species, with another doubtfully included:

Diagnosis.—Stylonuracea of medium size; outer surface covered with coarse scales and tubercles; prosoma campanulate, with stylonuroid appendages increasing in size posteriorly; first and second tergites greatly developed, the others normal in length.

Type genus.—Woodwardopterus Kjellesvig-Waering, 1959.

The family is considered to include two genera, Borchgrevinkium and Woodwardopterus.

Diagnosis.—Carapace elongated-parabolic; eyes unknown; legs mainly unknown, except basal (?) joints, which are highly spinous, undifferentiated; mesosoma with first two tergites longer than the rest of the mesosomal tergites; opisthosoma undifferentiated, with trilobation, caused by two ridges, present from the third to the tenth tergites; pretelson with dorsal forked area and telson short and


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194 ; underside practically unknown; ornamentation is composed of squamous sculpturing.

Type species.—Borchgrevinkium taimyrense Novojilov, 1959.

Stratigraphic range.—Lower Devonian (Upper Silurian ?).

Distribution.—Southwest Taimyr, Siberia, U.S.S.R.

Recognized species.—Borchgrevinkium taimyrense Novojilov.

Remarks.—The five walking legs preserved, regardless of whether they represent the basal, middle or distal podomeres, clearly designate this very peculiar and interesting eurypterid as a stylonuracean, and thus with affinities with the Woodwardopteridae rather than the Mycteropidae, which are considered a family of the Mixopteracea.

Diagnosis.—Woodwardopteridae of medium size, outer surface covered by coarse scales and tubercles; prosoma campanulate; eyes and ocelli unknown; prosomal appendages without spines but with supplementary lobes developed on anterior legs; first and second tergites greatly developed; opisthosoma trilobate in posterior part; telson unknown.

Type species.—Eurypterus scabrosus Woodward, 1887.

Stratigraphic range.—Lower Carboniferous.

Distribution.—Scotland.

Recognized species.—Woodwardopterus scabrosus (Woodward), 1887.

Diagnosis.—Ventral shield of two plates, joined anteriorly by suture, no epistoma; metastoma trapezoidal, cordate anteriorly with median posterior suture and narrowing anteriorly.

The family includes the two genera Hibbertopterus and Campylocephalus.

Diagnosis.—Hibbertopteridae with broad semi-circular prosoma and with centrally located arcuate eyes with narrow visual area and surrounded by annular cuticular thickening (orbital ridges).

Type species.—Eurypterus scouleri Hibbert.

Distribution.—Scotland, Ireland (?), Pennsylvania (?), Czechoslovakia (?) and South Africa (?).


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John French Sloan letter to Walter Pach, 1920 June 9

105 Johnson St Santa Fe N.M. June 9 - 1920

Dear Pach -

Well! Here we are again in the old town - it looks just the same. We feel the altitude more this year than last. It happens [?] because we climbed more slowly by autombile last year. We took three days to get here and were delayed 5 miles east of [?] for 3 hours. Very provoking, for we would have arrived on the [?] of [?] schedule time if a freight wreck in Apache Canyon had not occurred ahead of us. Dr. Hewett I have seen just once for a few minutes - he seemed glad to welcome me back. [Page 2] We walked out to the "Casa de Davey" last Sunday - he is going to have a beautiful place when his alterations are completed. They're well under way. He has three horses. One piece for self, wife & boy - three miles up the Santa Fe Canyon - wants me to buy a place near him. $900 is the price but I guess I won't indulge myself in [?] estate purchases.

I have started painting. Nearly a week went by before I felt ready - a Corpus Christi procession through the roads and over the bridge Sunday - gave me a theme.

By the way I got in to the Metropolitan Anniversary Ex before I left N.Y. and thank you for reminding me of its importance. I enjoyed the special additions very much. Suppose you read [?]'s article in The Dial "Art & Craftsmanship." I thought it very concise and true didn't you?

I hope that Raymond is quite well by now remember us both & [?] Pach and if you have some time & will to drop us a line - we feel far away out here. Regards to "Bayly" if you see him. Good luck and good health to you.

Yours sincerely, John Sloan


text: Category:New Mexico

title: Category:New Mexico


text:
Author:John French Sloan

Works

 * John French Sloan letter to Walter Pach, 1920 June 9 (1920)

As illustrator

 * "The Boy Scout Movement" (1911) by George Ross Kirkpatrick, for The Masses

title: Author:John French Sloan


text: Talk:John French Sloan letter to Walter Pach, 1920 June 9


text:
Page:A Revision of the Families and Genera of the Stylonuracea (Eurypterida).djvu/31

 Stratigraphic range.—Lower Carboniferous; Upper Devonian (?).

The following species are recognized:

Diagnosis.—Hibbertopteridae with subelliptical prosoma, narrow at base and broadest at midsection; compound eyes reniform, without annular cuticular thickening, located in posterior half of prosoma.

Type species.—Limulus oculatus Kutorga, 1838.

Distribution.—Urals, U.S.S.R.

Stratigraphic range.—Upper Carboniferous-Permian.

Recognized species for this genus:


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Avilés, Pedro Menéndez de


text:
Page:A Revision of the Families and Genera of the Stylonuracea (Eurypterida).djvu/32

196