The Mystery
of the Yellow Room
by Gaston Leroux
by Gaston Leroux
***
Quick -- what woman
scientist of the early twentieth century devoted her life to unravelling the
secrets of atomic structure? Like any detectives, we’ll need a few clues: she
was lovely, blonde and French, but with foreign antecedents. She became famous
in middle age, after working closely with an almost equally-famous male family
member. And of course, there was a tragedy in her life. You’re smiling. Marie
Curie, of course, you say smugly.
And so Gaston Leroux knew
his readers would say also. With an ex-journalist’s eye for stories ripped from
the headlines, he cribbed facts from Curie’s life for what is possibly the most
baffling “locked room mystery” of all time, 1908’s The Mystery of the Yellow Room.
Polish-born Curie and her
husband Pierre had shared the Nobel Prize in 1903. Three years later, Pierre
died in a bizarre traffic accident, leaving Marie to carry on their work on
radiation, or in the parlance of the time, the dissociation of matter. The ink
was hardly dry on the newspaper headlines when Leroux composed his paean to
women in science. This time around, though, the heroine, Mathilde Stangerson,
has a scandalous secret in her past.
Leroux had been both a
newspaper reporter and a lawyer (a profession initially forced on him by his
father). Given his experience as both, he cannily sets his story more than a
decade before Curie’s greatest fame. He knew too much about libel to risk incurring
a law suit by a too-close parallel to Curie’s life.
Leroux uses the story to
introduce his investigative reporter/detective, young Joseph Rouletabille, and
his slightly older lawyer friend Sainclair, the Watson to Rouletabille’s
Holmes, who narrates the tale.
Beautiful Mathilde
Stangerson, thirty-something daughter and co-worker of her scientist father,
hovers near death following a brutal attack. After a late night of experiments,
Mathilde retired to her room next to the isolated laboratory she shares with
her father. But why did she lock herself in, taking a revolver with her? And why
and how did an assailant slip past her half-American father to attack her? Still
more bizarre, when her father and a trusted old servant managed to break down
the door to Mathilde’s room, why wasn’t there anyone there except the
unconscious woman herself?
So puzzling is the case
that the police have called in the country’s greatest detective, Frederick
Larsan, to solve the case. But Larsan reckons without the aid of indomitable
journalist Rouletabille. And without the resolve of Mathilde herself, who
refuses to speak even after recovering her senses.
Can there be a link
between the attack and Mathilde’s refusal to marry, despite many offers? Twenty-first
century readers may suspect Mathilde simply doesn’t want to play second fiddle
to still another man, but Leroux was determined to find other reasons for her self-enforced
celibacy. The “how” of the vanishing attacker eluded me until the end. And
although I was sure I knew the name of the assailant and the motive halfway
through the book, Leroux (and Rouletabille) managed a twist that turned “locked
room” stories into the mystery writers’ Holy Grail.
American author S.S. Van
Dine’s 20 laws of writing detective stories, discussed last Friday, had not yet
been published, but Leroux would probably have had a good laugh over how many
of them, less immutable than the laws of physics, he managed to flout. I won’t spoil readers’
pleasure by pointing out those rule breakers. Read The Mystery of the Yellow Room yourselves. It’s still readily
available, including free downloads from Google’s Project Gutenberg, www.gutenberg.org/.
(Next Friday, Adventure
classics begins a May of historical adventures with Lilian Lee’s tale of opera
and passion, Farewell to My Concubine.)
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