"The gallery into which I went was well lit by a lamp with a reflector. What did it mean, then-that imitating of the mewing of Mother Angenoux' cat so near the chateau? I seized a good-sized stick, the only weapon I had, and, without making any noise, opened the door. The weather was too bad for even a cat to be turned out in it. Again the sound of the cat's weird cry in the distance. Cold wind and rain opaque darkness silence. Was it sleeplessness, or noise without?-The cry of the Bete du Bon Dieu rang out with sinister loudness from the end of the park. "Last night-the night between the 29th and 30th of October-" wrote Joseph Rouletabille, "I woke up towards one o'clock in the morning. (EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF JOSEPH ROULETABILLE)
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