[11]See Fantômas Series: vols. i, ii, iii.
[11]See Fantômas Series: vols. i, ii, iii.
His defence of his friend was a eulogy.
Nevertheless, the revelations of Juve did not simplify the problem as regards the grave charges of murder and spying brought against the prisoner.
When Juve had finished his panegyric, the president spoke to the point:
"All this is very well, gentlemen, very well—but theaffair grows more and more complicated, and who will come forward to elucidate it?"
From the back of the court came a sound, sharp-cut, clear:
"I!"
The sensation was immense. Members of the Council looked at one another. There was a disturbance at the back of the room: the crowd swayed, and peered, and whispered.
The colonel-president frowned. He scrutinised the close-packed swaying mass. He shot a question at it.
"Who spoke?"
Sharp, distinct, a monosyllable was shot back.
"I!"
Someone, pushing a way through the audience, was approaching the military tribunal.
A murmur rose from the crowd.
"Silence!" shouted the colonel. He swept the crowd with an angry eye: he threatened.
"I warn you! At the least manifestation, favourable or otherwise, I shall have the room cleared: we are not here to amuse ourselves. I do not authorise anyone, either by gesture or by speech, to comment on what is taking place within these walls."
Having obtained comparative quiet, the colonel looked squarely at the person who had approached the witness-stand and was facing the military tribunal.
This would-be witness was a young woman, elegantly clad. She wore black furs, and a dark veil partially concealing her features, but revealing the strange pallor of her face. The audience, who had a view of the newcomer's back, noted her masses of tawny red hair, set off by a fur toque.
The colonel put her to the question at once.
"You are the person who said 'I'?"
The young woman was greatly moved, but she answered firmly:
"Yes, Monsieur. That is so."
"Who are you, Madame?"
The witness collected her forces, pressed her hand to her heart as though to still its frantic beating: paused.In a clear strong voice she made her declaration:
"I am Mademoiselle Berthe: I am better known as Bobinette."
Exclamations from the crowd, craning necks, peering eyes, murmurs.
When the excitement was suppressed, the colonel interrogated Bobinette.
"Why have you taken upon yourself to interrupt the proceedings of the court?"
"You asked, Monsieur, who could clear up this unfortunate affair. I am ready to tell you everything. Not only is it a duty imposed on me by my conscience, it is also my most ardent wish."
The judges were in earnest consultation. Commandant Dumoulin was shaking his head. He was angrily opposed to this witness being heard, a witness who had appeared so inopportunely to trouble the majesty of the sitting.
The counsel for the defence intervened.
"Monsieur the president, I have the honour to request an immediate hearing for this witness.... It is your absolute right, Monsieur the president: you have full discretionary powers."
"And if I oppose it?" growled the commandant behind his desk, with a vicious glance at the defender of his adversary.
Maître Durul-Burton replied with calm dignity:
"If you oppose it, Monsieur the commissaire, I shall have the honour of immediately deposing on the bureau of this tribunal conclusive evidence which will bring this sitting to a close forthwith."
An animated discussion ensued between the members of the council. It resulted in the colonel's announcement:
"We will hear this witness."
He addressed Bobinette:
"You are allowed to speak, mademoiselle. Swear then to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Raise your right hand and say: 'I swear it!'"
With a certain dignity Bobinette obeyed.
"I swear it!"
Then, in a low trembling voice, trembling from excess of emotion but not from timidity, Bobinette began her story.
A child of the people, honestly brought up, she had not always followed the straight path of virtue: there had been lapses. Intelligent, longing to learn, she had been well educated, and had intended to take a medical degree.... Again, at the hospital, she had succumbed to temptations, had led a life of idleness, and had renounced all idea of working for her doctor's diploma. Instead, she had become a hospital nurse.[12]
[12]SeeFantômas: vol. i, Fantômas Series.
[12]SeeFantômas: vol. i, Fantômas Series.
Here the colonel interrupted:
"What can these details matter to us, Mademoiselle? What we want to know is not your own history, but that of the guilty person—information pertinent to the case in hand."
In a strangely solemn voice, Bobinette replied:
"You would know the history of the guilty person?... Listen!"
The tribunal was impressed: the members, silent, attentive, let the witness have her way.
Bobinette touched on the various stages of her life up to the day when she came in contact with the Baron de Naarboveck. The care she had lavished on the youthful Wilhelmine gained the gratitude of the rich diplomat and his daughter. From that time they treated her as one of themselves: she became Mademoiselle de Naarboveck's companion.
"Ah, cursed be that day!" cried Bobinette.... "Misfortunes, tragedies, date from then. The worst is—I must confess it—I was the cause of them!"
"What do you mean by that?" interrupted Commandant Dumoulin.
"I mean to say that if Captain Brocq died by an assassin's hand, the blame is mine!... I mean to say that if a confidential document disappeared from his rooms, it is because I took it!... I was his mistress!... I am responsible for his death!"
There was a gasping silence: the sensation was intense.Juve, half hidden behind the cast-iron stove, alone remained unmoved.
Bobinette continued:
"My evil genius, gentlemen, was a bandit of the worst kind: you know him under the name of Vagualame. Vagualame, agent of the Second Bureau, and officially a counter-spy. Quite so. But, gentlemen, Vagualame was equally spying on France, a traitor in the pay of a foreign power: worse still, he it was who assassinated Captain Brocq: you know he was the murderer of the singer, Nichoune!...
"This Vagualame made of me his thing, his slave! Alas! I cannot pretend that it was under the perpetual menace from this monster I became a traitor! I have so many betrayals that must count against me: betrayal of my country, betrayal of Captain Brocq's love for me! I robbed him in every kind of way: I stole the document referring to the mobilisation scheme: I stole his money—bank-notes—with the excuse that it was to put the police on the wrong scent and make them believe it was an ordinary burglary.
"These notes, gentlemen, were found in the possession of the unfortunate Jérôme Fandor. It seems they constitute an overwhelming charge against him. Know then, that after having been stolen by my hands they were given to Jérôme Fandor by one of our agents, for the purpose of compromising the false Corporal Vinson.... But if I have acted thus, it was not so much through a desire for the money they gave me for my treachery, not so much for the fallacious promises of eventual riches which Vagualame was always trying to dazzle me with—it was through rancour, spite, hate, it was through love!"
Maître Durul-Burton rose and, bending towards the half-fainting Bobinette, cried:
"Speak, speak, Mademoiselle!"
Bobinette went on slowly:
"Through love—yes. And it is an avowal which touches me nearly, wounds me in the depths of my soul, in my most intimate thoughts....
"Yes, I have given away to the vile suggestions ofVagualame, if I have let myself be drawn by him into horrible by-paths of spying and treason, it is owing to the spite and rage of an unrequited love, of an intense passion, intense beyond expression, which I have felt for a man—a man whose heart was given to another—for the betrothed of Mademoiselle de Naarboveck—for Lieutenant Henri de Lou——"
The colonel-president, with a brusque gesture, interrupted this confession.
"Enough, Mademoiselle ... enough!... You are not to mention names here!... Be good enough to continue your deposition only as it relates to facts connected with spying."
Bobinette then recounted how she had consented to hide the famous gun piece brought to her one day by Vagualame; how she had helped the bandit to concoct the daring plan by which this piece was to be handed to a foreign power; how she had disguised herself as a priest in order to take Corporal Vinson to Dieppe. She did not know, at first, that she was dealing with Jérôme Fandor. Enlightenment came through Vagualame's telegram. She only then realised that the traitor Vinson and the soldier in her company were two distinct persons.
"And," cried she, "who killed the real Corporal Vinson but a few days ago in the rue du Cherche-Midi? I know. It was the murderer of Captain Brocq, the murderer of the singer, Nichoune—it was Vagualame ... Vagualame!" Bobinette was working herself up to a paroxysm of exasperation, shouting out her revelations like an apostle who means to convince, shouting his convictions as a martyr might at the worst moment of her anguish.
"Vagualame? You ask who he is, and you search among the thieves, the receivers of stolen goods and light-fingered gentry, you search among the secret agents, among that low unclean crowd which gravitates to your Staff Offices and circulates about them, forever on the watch, on the prowl to surprise some secret, to buy over some conscience, to sell and bargain over some purloined document!... Look higher than that, gentlemen—much higher! Look higher than the Staff Offices, than theleaders in the political world, than members of the Government, even—fix your attention on the accredited representatives of foreign powers."...
Bobinette was unable to continue.... Commandant Dumoulin had been too excited to remain in his seat. He rushed towards the witness, who was making what he considered to be wild and outrageous statements: he put his big hand over her mouth, effectually silencing her....
The commandant turned to the colonel, shouting:
"Colonel! Monsieur the president!... I demand that this case be now heard in camera! Such accusations must not be heard in public!... I beg you to order that the rest of this case be heard behind closed doors!"
The counsel for the defence rose in his turn, and in a calm tone, which contrasted with the violence of Commandant Dumoulin, declared:
"I am in agreement with this demand, Monsieur the President.... Will you order that the further hearing of this case be in camera?"
Here Commandant Dumoulin, to whom Lieutenant Servin had made a suggestion, intervened anew:
"Monsieur the President, gentlemen, having regard to the grave declarations made by this witness, I require her immediate arrest!"
Hardly had this demand been voiced when a loud cry rang out, electrifying the whole court. Bobinette had swallowed the contents of a small phial hidden in her muff!
Juve, guessing Bobinette's intention, had rushed to her, but, in spite of his rapid action, he reached her only in time to receive the fainting girl in his arms.
"She has poisoned herself!" shouted Juve.
The public broke bounds, knocked over chairs and benches, rolled in a surge of excited curiosity to the very feet of the Council of War, crowding round this fresh centre of interest—Bobinette!
Fandor was too stunned by the avalanche of incidents to move.
"The hearing is suspended!" shouted the colonel in an angry voice. There was nothing else to be done: the court was in an uproar!
It was nine in the evening, and a crowd as large and densely packed as before awaited the verdict.
Since Bobinette attempted suicide—she had been removed to the infirmary with the faint hope that life was not extinct and she might yet be saved—the hearing had been conducted in camera. But the revelations of the guilty girl had not only upset Dumoulin's course of procedure, but had also convinced the judges of Fandor's innocence. He had once more explained why he had concealed his identity beneath the uniform of Corporal Vinson.
The Council of War had come to the conclusion that they could not consider Fandor accountable to their tribunal.
At nine o'clock then, after a short deliberation, the Council of War delivered judgment through the mouth of its president, delivered judgment according to the solemn formula, commencing thus:
"In the name of the French People!"
Jérôme Fandor was acquitted.
The news of his acquittal was received with hearty cheers.
Fandor was free.
Congratulations, hand-shakings, questions followed.
Mechanically he responded, though he had a smile for Lieutenant Servin when he murmured, with a touch of irony:
"The judgment made no mention, Monsieur Fandor, of the clothes—the borrowed clothes—you are wearing: but it seems to be established that they do not belong to you. Be kind enough, then, to return them to the authorities as soon as possible! Otherwise we shall be obliged to summon you afresh for appropriation of military garments!"
The lieutenant had had his little joke, and departed laughing.
The crowd melted away. Only a few of Fandor's colleagues remained. To them he talked more freely of his troubles and trials. Then Juve arrived on the sceneagain. He was no longer the impassive listener of the trial: he was friend Juve, beaming and joyous.
He embraced his dear Fandor effusively, murmuring:
"Now, old Fandor, this is not the moment to linger! We must be off instanter. I shall see you to your flat, where you can change into clothes of your own; for this evening we have our work cut out for us!"
"This evening?" Fandor's curiosity was aroused.
Juve, as they went off together, became mysterious.
"Ah! you will understand presently!"
"Hurry up, Fandor! We must be off!... We shall be late!"
Jérôme Fandor slipped on his overcoat and took the stairs at a rush in the wake of Juve.
"Well, I like that, old Juve! Here have I been waiting for you a good quarter of an hour!... You will have to give the coachman an address, anyhow, and that will tell me where you are taking me, why you have made me get into evening clothes, and why you are in that unusual get-up yourself—it's unheard of!"
"It is true, lad! I amuse myself making mysteries!... It is stupid.... Well, Fandor, we are going to a ball."...
"A ball!"
"Yes—and I think we shall lead someone there a fine dance, or I am much mistaken."
"Who, then?"
"The master of the house!"
"You speak in riddles, Juve!"
"Not at all! Do you know where we are going, Fandor, lad?"
"I ask you that, Juve."
"Well, then—we are going to the house of—Fantômas—to arrest him!"
"Ye gods and little fishes!" cried Fandor.
Juve crossed the pavement and jumped into a carriage, making room for his dear lad beside him.
"But, Juve," remonstrated Fandor: "You declared to me the other day that it was impossible to arrest de Naarboveck—that he was inviolable—but you did not tell me why.... Isn't that true?"
"It is true."
"And it is so no longer."
"It still is so."
After all he had been through, Fandor was in a state of high tension. He caught Juve's hand and beat it with angry impatience.
"Don't quibble, Juve!... It is too deadly serious!... What do you really mean?... We know that de Naarboveck is Fantômas, but you swore to me that it is impossible to arrest Naarboveck. You still assert this: nevertheless, you now declare that we are going to arrest Fantômas! What the deuce do you mean?... I've had more than enough of your ironical mockery, old man!"
Juve took out his watch and, with finger on the dial, said:
"Look! It is half past ten. We shall reach de Naarboveck's about a quarter past eleven. It would be impossible for me to arrest him just then; but at a quarter to twelve, midnight at latest, it will be quite easy for me to put my hand on the collar of de Naarboveck—Fantômas! I shall not bungle it!"
"Juve! You and your mysteries are maddening!"
"My dear Fandor, do pardon me for not being more explicit. I told you Naarboveck was out of reach as far as arresting him goes. I also told you that we were going to arrest Fantômas. It is exact; because all that is subordinate to a will—a will I happen to have at my command for the moment, but also a will which may raise some preventing obstacle at the last moment, and so stop me from capturing the bandit straight away, enabling the monster to brazen it out in perfect safety."
"Whose will, Juve?"
"My lad, do not question me further! I cannot say more."
Fandor desisted: Juve's sincerity was obvious.
"All serene, Juve! I leave it to you. Whatever happens. I shall try not to lose sight of you. I shall stick to you like a leech—if you have need of me."
Juve held out his hands.
"Thanks, dear lad!"
With fast-beating hearts, thrilling with excitement, expectation, anxiety, the friends embraced.
"You know, dear lad," said Juve in quiet tones: "We are going to risk our skins?... I am sure of the final victory unless a stupid ball from a revolver."...
Fandor was his old teasing self once more.
"Oh, that's all right! You are not going to frighten me with that old black bogey of yours!"...
At this moment the carriage turned the corner at the end of the Alexander bridge....
The Baron de Naarboveck's mansion was brilliantly illuminated. The much-talked-of fête was at its height.
Below, the spacious hall had been turned into a magnificent supper-room—a veritable transformation scene—while dancers thronged the rooms above.... The end room only was deserted: it was the library. It had been made the receptacle of an overflow of furniture when the reception suite was cleared for dancing.
An orchestra, concealed by foliage plants, discoursed seductive waltzes in the principal ballroom, whilst crowds of lovely women and distinguished men listened, chatted, and looked on.
Madame Paradel, wife of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, was talking to her host. Observing Wilhelmine, all grace and smiles, she murmured:
"What a charming girl she is!"
Turning again to de Naarboveck, she remarked:
"But you must be in the depths of desolation, dear Baron! Have I not heard that the young couple are leaving for the centre of Africa?"
"Oh, that is an exaggeration," laughed the Baron. "As a matter of fact, my future son-in-law, de Loubersac, is leaving the Staff Office, and with the rank of captain. His chiefs are sending him, not, as you think, to the wilds of Central Africa, but only to Algiers! An excellent garrison!"
"Well, Baron, I like to think you will soon be paying a visit to your newly married pair."
The Baron bowed, and, as Madame Paradel moved away, he went towards the entrance of the gallery commanding a view of the hall and stairs.
The figures of two advancing guests had caught his eye.
In a tone at once enigmatic and perfectly correct, de Naarboveck accosted them:
"You are among my guests, gentlemen."
"That is obvious, is it not?" replied one of the new-comers.... "You may be assured, Baron, that neither my friend Fandor nor I would have allowed ourselves the liberty otherwise."...
"I know! I know, Monsieur Juve!... Besides—I was expecting you!" An ironic smile curved the lips of de Naarboveck.
"We should have reproached ourselves, Baron, had we not come this evening to offer you the felicitations to which you have a right."
"Really?... No doubt you refer to the marriage of Wilhelmine?"
"No, Baron. I reserve such congratulations for Monsieur de Loubersac and Mademoiselle Thérèse—pardon, for Mademoiselle Wilhelmine."
When making this deliberate mistake in the name, Juve looked squarely at the diplomat—but de Naarboveck made no sign.
"What, then, do you refer to, Monsieur Juve?" he asked.
"I mean, my dear Baron, that I have recently heard of your new office, heard that your credentials have just been presented, heard that they will be ratified to-morrow.... From this evening, Baron, are you not then the representative of the kingdom of Hesse-Weimar?... I fancy, Monsieur the Ambassador, that you are satisfied with this nomination?"
De Naarboveck, smiling that ironical smile, bowed.
"It carries with it some advantages, certainly."
"Among them, Baron, the privilege of inviolability—ah, that famous inviolability!"
Juve laid stress on the wordinviolability.
De Naarboveck did not seem to understand the insinuation conveyed.
"It is quite true, Monsieur," he said in a matter-of-fact manner: "I do enjoy the right of inviolability; itis one of the privileges attached to my office." On a bantering note he added:
"An appreciable advantage, is it not?"
"Appreciable indeed!" was Juve's reply.
A wave of fresh arrivals surged up the grand staircase and separated the speakers. The master of the house stepped forward to greet them, whilst Fandor drew Juve by the sleeve into the corner of a window recess. Speaking low, he asked:
"Juve! what is the meaning of this comedy?"
"Alas, Fandor! it is no comedy!"
"De Naarboveck is an ambassador?"
"For the kingdom of Hesse-Weimar, yes. He has been that for over a week—since that evening we failed to arrest him in the rue Lepic."
"And he is inviolable?"
"Naturally. In conformity with international conventions, every representative accredited to a foreign power as ambassador is an untouchable, inviolable person—wherever he may be.... Therefore, Fandor, when in this mansion, situated in the heart of Paris, we are no longer legally in France, but in Hesse-Weimar. You can understand the kind of consequences which must follow from such a state of things.... But all is not over.... Ah! excuse me ... there is something I must see to immediately!"...
Leaving Fandor, Juve made his way through innumerable dress-coats and magnificent toilettes, moving with difficulty in the press.
He approached a guest stationed apart, watching all that was going on about him. This guest, who stood unobtrusively aloof, was a distinguished-looking man of about thirty-five; he wore a blonde moustache turned up German fashion.
Juve bowed low before this personage, and murmured with profound deference:
"Ah, thank you, thank you for coming, Majesty!"
"Here, Monsieur, I am incognito—the Prince Louis de Kalbach: respect my incognito and do whatever you have to do quickly. My presence in Paris is not suspected.As you are aware, I am fortunately not known personally to my—to this individual."
Juve was about to assure the king that his wishes would be respected, but someone touched him on the arm. Juve, with a respectful inclination, turned away.
"Ah, Monsieur Juve, how delighted I am to see you!... But I was forgetting.... Monsieur Lépine was looking for you just now!"...
Juve was facing beaming Lieutenant de Loubersac.
"I will go to him at once ... but let me take this opportunity of congratulating you, my dear Lieutenant."...
Juve slipped away to join the popular chief commissioner of police, who was standing apart in the gallery overlooking the hall. Despite the amiable smile he cultivated, Monsieur Lépine looked anxious.
"Juve, are you on duty here?" he asked.
"Yes and no, Monsieur."
Monsieur Lépine looked his surprise.
"I will explain this to you later, Monsieur," said Juve.... "Things are still very complicated."
Wilhelmine de Naarboveck came into view. She was one beam of happiness and radiant beauty.
"Ah, Monsieur, I perceive you are not dancing," she said, playing the good hostess to Juve. "Will you not allow me to introduce you to some charming girls?"
"This is not the time," thought Juve: "and there is my age to be considered."
Making an evasive reply, Juve beat a retreat in good order, and followed Colonel Hofferman, who was talking to de Naarboveck.
"The work of the Second Bureau," declared that officer.
Juve heard no more—Monsieur Lépine confronted him. The chief commissioner of police was plucking at his pointed beard with nervous fingers.
Drawing Juve aside, he asked:
"Juve, what is Headquarters thinking about?"
"I do not know, Monsieur."
"What! There is a visitor here, unnoticed.... Areyou also ignorant of the fact that the Baron de Naarboveck receives a king here to-night?"
"Oh, as to that, I know it—Frederick Christian II."
Monsieur Lépine was incensed at the detective's calm.
"You know it! You know it!" he grumbled, "and the administration knows nothing about!... Well, since you know so much, what is he doing here your king?"
"He comes to see me."
"Juve, you are mad!"
"No, Monsieur, But."...
Juve cut short the conversation, approached the king, and said a few words to him in a low voice.
The chief commissioner of police was surprised beyond words when he saw the king listening attentively to what Juve had to say, then nod acquiescence, leave the ballroom and enter the gallery on to which several rooms opened, including the library at the far end.
Juve glanced discreetly at his watch. He was startled. His expression altered. It grew severe, determined. He glanced about him, discovered de Naarboveck not far off, and went up to him.
"Monsieur de Naarboveck," he said: "shall we have a few minutes' talk? Not here—somewhere else.... Should we say?"...
"In my library?" proposed de Naarboveck, who looked the detective up and down—a measuring glance, cold, contemptuous. Their glances crossed, hard, menacing.
"You are set on it, Monsieur?" De Naarboveck's tone was irony incarnate.... "And what may I ask is your aim in forcing this conversation, Monsieur?"
Juve's reply came, distinct, determined:
"Unmask Fantômas!"
"That shall be as you like," was the diplomat's reply.
In the library, unusually full of furniture, Juve and de Naarboveck met for their duel of words and wits.
They were by themselves. Juve had made the Baron pass into the room before him. He knew there was but one exit—the door. If in order to get clear away, de Naarboveck meant to employ force or trickery, he would first have to remove Juve from the door, before which he had stationed himself.
Juve did not budge.
Certainly there was the window at the other end of the room looking on to the Esplanade des Invalides. Curtains were drawn across the window, but Juve did not fear to see his adversary escape in that direction: he knew—and he alone knew it—that between this window and the curtains there was an obstacle—someone."...
"Do you remember, Monsieur de Naarboveck, that evening when the police came here to arrest Vagualame?"
"Yes," replied de Naarboveck with his ironic smile: "and it was you, Monsieur Juve, who got yourself arrested in that disguise!"
"That is a fact." Juve's admission was matter-of-fact. "Do you recall a certain conversation, Monsieur de Naarboveck, between detective Juve and the real Vagualame at Jérôme Fandor's flat?"
"No," declared the Baron: "and for the very good reason that the conversation—you have just said so—was a dialogue between two persons: Juve and Vagualame."
"Nevertheless, this Vagualame was none other than Fantômas!"
"What then?" De Naarboveck was smiling.
Juve, after a short silence, burnt his ships.
"Naarboveck!" he cried: "It is useless to double like that! Vagualame is Fantômas: Vagualame is you, yourself: Fantômas is you, yourself.... We know it. We have identified you; and to-morrow the anthropometric test will prove in the eyes of the world what to-day is the conviction of a certain few only.
"This long time past you have known yourself pursued, tracked: you have noted that the ring has been drawn closer, tighter each day: so, playing your last trump card, attempting even the impossible, you have planned this abominable comedy, which consists in duping a noble king and getting yourself nominated as his ambassador, that you might take advantage of diplomatic inviolability—an advantage, let me tell you, you are in desperate need of!... Quite a good idea! Was it not?"
During Juve's virulent apostrophe de Naarboveck had maintained an ironic self-possession.
"You confess, then?"
"And suppose it were so?... No doubt, Monsieur Juve, you intended to denounce me, to prove that the Baron de Naarboveck is none other than Fantômas.... Well, it pleases me to admit your cleverness. I will even go as far as allow that you may quite well obtain authorisation to arrest me—in a few days' time."
"Not in a few days' time," interrupted Juve: "but now at once!"
"Pardon," objected de Naarboveck, cool, collected, while Juve had difficulty in containing himself: "Pardon, but the credentials I possess are authentic, and no one in this world can deprive me of my function, of my official position, and what pertains to it."
"Yes!" Juve flung the word at de Naarboveck as though it were a stone from a sling.
De Naarboveck's gesture might mean anything:
"Who?"...
Juve hurled another two stones in the shape of words.
"The king!"
De Naarboveck's nod was malicious.
"Frederick Christian alone can take from me my style and title of ambassador.... Let him come and do it!"
Juve lifted a finger slowly towards the far end of the library, in the direction of the window.
De Naarboveck, who had followed this movement mechanically, could not restrain a cry of stupefaction, a cry of anguish.
The window curtain had just been gradually drawn apart: slowly before the miscreant's eyes appeared the majestic form of King Frederick Christian II, King of Hesse-Weimar.
The king was livid with suppressed rage.
Juve approached him, his eyes on de Naarboveck. The king took a large envelope from an inner pocket and handed it to Juve.
"I am the victim of this monster's imposture, but I know how to recognise my mistakes and rectify them.... Monsieur Juve, here is the decree you asked me for,annulling the nomination of—Baron de Naarboveck."
During this brief scene, Naarboveck-Fantômas had gradually backed towards a corner of the room, his face was pallid and drawn: he had the look of a trapped beast of prey. But at the king's last words Naarboveck-Fantômas drew himself up to a semblance of stateliness. He also took from an inner pocket a document. He held it out to the king: his lips were curved in a smile of bitter irony.
"Sire," he said: "I, in my turn, hand you this! It is the plan stolen from Captain Brocq—the mobilisation plan for the whole French army—a plan your emperor."...
"Enough, Monsieur!" shouted the king.
The paper fell to the ground.
Juve bent quickly and picked up the document.
The king, as though to anticipate the suspicion which might be put into words, said:
"Juve, this plan belongs to your country. Never have we wished."...
The eyes of Juve met those of the king in a deep, questioning glance. A question was asked and answered then. But five seconds in time had passed. Juve's glance went back to Naarboveck-Fantômas.... The bandit had disappeared!
Juve kept his head.
"Michel!" he called: "Michel!"
Michel entered the library on the instant. He had been posted in the gallery close by. Behind him appeared several gentlemen in evening dress: they were detectives despatched on special duty from Headquarters.
"Fantômas is there, Michel," Juve cried: "concealed, but not escaped.... There may be some hiding-place in these walls—we must sound them—but no passage, no exit: I am sure of that. Let us carry out these pieces of furniture, which form a veritable barricade."
Some moments passed, tense with expectancy. At Juve's earnest request the king had left the room. He had fulfilled his promise and had best begone. Juve and Michel were guarding the door. The situation was dangerous, and well the policemen knew it! They had cometo grips with a formidable criminal, to whom nothing was sacred, who would stick at nothing! Protected by some piece of furniture, he could take aim at his leisure, shoot his opponents through the heart, and could go on shooting till he had emptied his revolver.
"Start in!" cried Juve.
With six men to aid him, Juve began a systematic turn-out of the library, moving the furniture piece by piece, leaving no hole, no corner unsearched.
No Fantômas!
Yet Juve felt confident, felt sure he held the miscreant in the hollow of his policeman's hand: the library contained no trap-door, no secret door, no sliding panel covering his retreat: the floor had no opening in it: the ceiling was not movable.
"Take these pieces of furniture into the gallery," commanded Juve: "every one of them! Fantômas is not a being without weight and substance, though, for the moment, he is invisible. He cannot have left the room; therefore he must be in it!"
It was no easy task to move quickly, noiselessly, these heavy pieces of furniture into the gallery by way of the narrow library door. Soon they had carried out a comfortable leather arm-chair of unusual proportions, four other chairs, a stand, and various smaller pieces of substantial make.
And all the while, dancers whirled on in the ball-rooms, seductive strains of music were wafted on the air, mingled with the hum of joyous talk and gay laughter; yet in the background were these dark happenings with tragedy ahead!
Wilhelmine de Naarboveck appeared in the doorway, staring at the disorder organised by Juve.... Juve paused: speech failed him at sight of her.
"Monsieur Juve," said she, in quite ordinary tones: "I am so glad I have found you! The Baron de Naarboveck has sent me to you."...
"Who sent you, did you say, Mademoiselle?"
Juve started forward.
"The Baron de Naarboveck asks for me?... Where? Since when?"
"Why Monsieur Juve, I have just this moment left him at the entrance to the ball-rooms. He had just come out of here!... But why are you putting all this furniture in the gallery?"
"What of the Baron, Mademoiselle?" cried Juve, on tenterhooks.
"Ah, yes! The Baron said to me: 'Wilhelmine, I feel a little tired, and am going up to my room for a few minutes; but go to Monsieur Juve, and tell him ...'"
Not waiting to hear more, Juve rushed out to the gallery, but only to stop dead.... He had run up against a large, an unusually large, arm-chair standing apart. Thus isolated, it was remarkable. Juve paused to examine it. This arm-chair was astonishing, extraordinary! Yes—it opened in the middle—a kind of a double chair! Why—the interior could hold a man who knew how to pack himself in! It had a false bottom with a spring! One in hiding could escape that way!... Once closed on the person concealed within, the chair looked empty. A most ingenious hide-hole! Juve now knew the answer to the riddle of the bandit's disappearance. Within an ace of arrest, he had seized the chance offered by Juve's interchange of glances with the king, and with an acrobat's agility had slipped inside this chair! No sooner was the chair abandoned in the gallery than de Naarboveck-Fantômas had slipped out and away. When leaving his magnificent house forever, and all the securities and privileges of his position, he had sent Wilhelmine to announce his escape to Juve! Could cynicism—could mordant irony go further?
Juve felt crushed. It was too, too much.
"What ails you, Juve?" asked a gentle voice beside him. It was Fandor, who, knowing nothing of what had passed, but suspecting there was mischief afoot, had come in search of Juve. Had he not seen the diplomat whom he knew to be Fantômas, and Fantômas on the point of being arrested, cross the ballroom rapidly and disappear in the crowd of dancers?
Juve could not find words for speech.
Great tears rolled down his cheeks, hollowed and lined with an immense fatigue.
At last he gave low utterance to his feelings.
"Fantômas! I had got him!... And it was I who had that cursed chair taken out of the library—I did it ... I!... It is thanks to me!"
Juve could not continue. He burst into tears in the arms of his devoted friend....
Once again Juve had suffered shipwreck when coming into harbour! Once again the bandit had escaped! Ah, decidedly Vagualame, Naarboveck, Fantômas, were one!
Fantômas the evasive, the elusive, the shadowy Fantômas, genius of evil, had flitted by them, had disappeared! Whither?...
Would Juve ever have his revenge?
The future alone would decide....
The Adventures of Detective Juve in pursuit of a master in crime.
In this continuation Fantômas appears as the leader of a gang of Apaches, and as a physician of standing. Juve tracks the criminal to his secret hiding-place, but Fantômas escapes.
Filled with hair-raising incidents this tale is a fascinating recital of remarkable happenings in the life of the master-criminal of Paris.
In this volume Fantômas is an ambassador for a foreign power engaged in Paris in obtaining important military secrets for Germany. Detective Juve unmasks him, but the criminal again escapes.