Juve and Doctor Gast were talking in low tones in the dining-room adjoining the bedroom. Their patient, Fandor, had just wakened and had cried out:
"I'm dying of hunger!"
It was about nine o'clock in the morning. After rescuing his friend Fandor from his perilous situation, he had taken the unfortunate journalist to his own home in Rue Richer and called in a physician of the quarter, Doctor Gast. An examination of the patient showed that he had received no serious injury, merely some abrasions and one or two burns.
As Juve and the Doctor answered his call for food, Fandor sat up and without surprise or question repeated his cry:
"I'm dying of hunger. Hurry up and give me something to eat."
The Doctor took his pulse, then suggested:
"Something light won't hurt him, say, a slice of ham."
A formidable oath was the reply:
"No, thanks!... anything you like, but not ham."
"All right ... a chicken wing instead."
This seemed to satisfy Fandor, who added:
"While I'm awful hungry, don't forget that I'm just as thirsty!"
"Well, Doctor?"
"Well, Monsieur, I find everything going well. Our patient has had a good meal and is now sleeping peacefully. By to-morrow, M. Fandor will be all right again. It was, however, about time he got food, for in my judgment he pretty nearly died of hunger."
"That's what I can't understand."
"When you went back just now to the scene of the accident, didn't you learn any of the details?"
Juve answered evasively:
"Nothing to speak of, Doctor, merely that the wounds of the passengers are not serious. As to the cause of the explosion, I have a notion that it may have been due to an escape of gas. I noticed a strong odor of it about. Probably a spark set it off."
The doctor now took his leave, and no sooner was he well out of the door when a joyful whistle came from the sick man's room. Juve could not restrain an exclamation of surprise as he looked into the bedroom. Fandor was already partly dressed and in the act of lacing up his boots.
"You are crazy to get up in your condition!"
"Hang my condition, I feel as strong as a horse and as hungry as a bear."
Juve laughed.
"Oh, if that's the way you feel there's nothing more to be said."
After a second breakfast, Fandor turned to his friend:
"Now, then, Juve, let's hear where you've been!"
For two hours each in turn narrated their adventures of the past days, and by combining their experiences, they arrived at a clear view of the situation. One question was answered beyond doubt. The hand of Fantômas was everywhere apparent. His carefully laid plan to get possession of the King's diamond unquestionably involved the arrest of the King by the French authorities for the murder of his mistress.
It was now their difficult task, first to recover the jewel and then capture the bandit. Two points still remained to be cleared up. What rôle had Marie Pascal played in the affair? Was she innocent or an accomplice? And had Lady Beltham intended to save Juve or had she intended to save Fantômas?
It was finally arranged that Juve should go to the America Hotel and call on the pseudo Grand Duchess Alexandra, and that Fandor should see Marie Pascal.They were about to put this project into execution when a loud knocking at the door startled them.
Fandor sprang forward, but the detective quickly thrust him into the bedroom, and opened the door himself.
"You here, Wulf!"
"As you see."
The absurd officer marched into the apartment with an air of great satisfaction.
"Well, Monsieur Juve, and what do you think of my detective instinct?"
"I don't understand."
"Ah, you thought you'd got rid of me at the Sud-Nord Station, didn't you, but I fooled you. I arrived at the scene of the explosion at the precise moment you were giving an address to the chauffeur and carrying away a body."
"A body ... in pretty good health!"
"Furthermore, I came across some one you were looking for, I think."
"Fantômas?"
"No, not Fantômas, but the Primitive Man, generally called Ouaouaoua."
"And you let him go?"
"Oh, I let him go all right, but not before he gave me his address."
Juve smiled grimly.
"A nice mess you've made of it!"
Wulf continued with an air of great importance:
"I can tell you something else, the King returns to Glotzbourg to-night, but before he goes we shall have the guilty person arrested."
A slight noise made Wulf turn his head and then give a loud cry.
Fandor had entered the room.
"Good God! Who is that?... the King?... No, it's not the King ... help! help!"
Wulf cast frightened glances to right and left and then made a dive for the door, slamming it behind him as he rushed out:
"I knew he was a fool," exclaimed Juve, "but I didn't know he was crazy besides. And to think he had Fantômas in his hands and let him go!"
The two men now reverted to their interrupted project and decided to pay their respective visits to Marie Pascal and Lady Beltham.
"Mam'zelle Marie! Mam'zelle Marie! Come in and rest a bit!"
The pretty lace-maker was passing the office of the concièrge, the so-called Mother Citron. The young girl accepted the invitation and sat down, heaving adeep sigh. It was only ten in the morning but her red eyes and her face showed signs of having passed a bad night.
"You mustn't work so hard!" exclaimed the concièrge.
"Oh, it isn't my work; that rests me, it helps me to forget.... I have so many troubles."
"Tell me all about them."
By degrees and through her tears, Marie confided all that had happened to her since the night of the murder. The avowal of love she had made to the King and the unforgettable hour she had passed in his company; then the police inquiries, suspicions, and the fact that they were continually following her.
"Ah, if only I had some one to turn to. I've thought of going to see this detective the King spoke of, M. Juve."
As Marie Pascal pronounced that name, an expression of sinister joy came into the eyes of Mother Citron:
"That's a good idea," she exclaimed.
Marie hesitated:
"I would never dare go to see him alone."
"Marie Pascal, you know how fond of you I am, and as sure as I'm called Mother Citron, I'll provewhat I say. In a couple of minutes I'll put on my hat with the flowers and leave my workwoman in charge here. Then I'll take you myself to this M. Juve... if you're afraid of him, I'm not!"
Fandor, smoking a good cigar, walked to the Rue Monceau, taking deep breaths of the fresh air, looking up with delight at the blue sky. After his imprisonment and slow torture he experienced an extraordinary joy in living and in his freedom.
When he reached the house he found the concièrge's office empty. He called out several times.
"I'm the concièrge, what is it you want?" a voice answered behind him.
Fandor turned sharply:
"Ah, there you are, Madame, I didn't see you."
It would have surprised the journalist had he known that the extraordinary Mme. Citron a moment before had been comfortably installed in the Marquis de Sérac's apartment, and that hearing herself called, she had slid down her communicating post to answer the summons. Still further was he from imagining that the Marquis de Sérac and Mme. Citron were one and the same person.
"Well, now that I'm here, what is it you want?"
Madame Citron recognized Fandor. But she recognized him as being some one he was not. She had, indeed,only seen him for a few moments immediately after the murder of Susy d'Orsel.
"I want to see Mlle. Marie Pascal. She lives here, doesn't she?"
"Yes, Monsieur, but ..."
"Is she at home?"
"What is it about?"
Fandor answered casually:
"I have an order to give her."
"Then, if Monsieur will leave it with me..."
"Why? Isn't Mlle. Marie Pascal here?"
"No, Monsieur."
"Will she be long away?"
"I'm afraid she will."
"All right, I'll come back about six o'clock. I must see her personally, I have a number of details to explain."
Mme. Ceiron shook her head.
"I don't think you'll find her."
"Why not?"
"Well, she's in the country."
"Will she be away for several days?"
"I expect so."
Fandor decided to burn his bridges.
"Look here, it's not about an order; I'm sent here by Juve, you know him?"
"The detective?"
"Yes, Madame, the detective."
Madame Ceiron appeared to be very disturbed.
"Oh! I shall get jaundice from all this bother. I can't even sleep in peace. It'll end in them suspecting me, I know it will."
"No, no, Madame, I assure you...."
"After all, I'd rather tell you the exact truth, then you can't complain of me. You see, it's this way: Yesterday the little girl came and said to me, 'Madame Ceiron, I'm so upset and unhappy, and I'm bothered to death with questions, too, and then, this King who isn't a King ... I've a good mind to pack my trunk and go away.' So I said to her, if that's the case, go by all means—she had paid a quarter's advance—and when you are ready just come back—and that's all there is to it, Monsieur."
"You have no idea where she went, Mme. Ceiron?"
"Well, I heard her tell the cab-driver to take her to the Montparnasse Station."
"Do you know if she has any friends or relations in the country?"
"Ah!—that's a good idea, Monsieur, now I come to think of it, she always went on her holidays from the same station, probably to visit some of her family, but where they live I haven't the least idea."
Fandor had an inspiration.
"Maybe she has received letters which will tell us! Have you the key of her room?"
"Yes, I have the key; would you like to go up?"
"Of course!—I must make a search through her belongings."
Jerome Fandor felt strangely agitated in entering the simple room of the young lace-maker. It has been frequently said that the souls of people can be divined from the atmosphere of their homes, and if this is true, the journalist was surely not mistaken when at the Royal Palace he had experienced a rather warm feeling for Marie Pascal.
The room showed no sign of precipitate abandonment, nor any preparation for a long absence. Her work-basket and cushions were all in place, and one would have expected her return at any moment. But alas! Fandor could harbor no illusion regarding her. Her flight was evidently to escape a probable arrest by Juve. A minute inspection of Marie's papers disclosed nothing of importance; but upon opening the last drawer in her desk he found, hidden under envelopes and letter paper, a number of small objects.
"Ah! the devil!" he exclaimed.
The objects were jewels, brooches, rings, earringsand also a large key, evidently of an apartment door. One glance at the jewels was enough. Fandor had seen and admired them upon the person of Susy d'Orsel during the supper which preceded her tragic death.
"My God! there's no doubt now," he muttered, "Marie Pascal is the accomplice of Fantômas."
And then the journalist decided upon a theory to account for her having left the jewels behind. She had probably arranged to have them found among somebody else's things and thus to throw suspicion from herself, just as she had attempted to leave the famous chemise in the Marquis de Sérac's laundry.
"What will Juve say to this? I must see him right away!"
He turned to the concièrge:
"Madame Ceiron, I realize our search here will be without result, so I will leave you now and probably return about ten to-night with my friend Juve."
"Very good, Monsieur. You found nothing, I suppose?"
"Nothing at all," declared Fandor.
While Fandor was going downstairs the pseudo Mme. Ceiron made a grimace.
"He's found nothing, hasn't he? And yet he's turned over everything I left in that drawer! He's not so clever as Juve, although he isn't a fool....After all, I don't care, I've got them both where I want them."
Jerome Fandor shouted an address to his driver:
"Rue Bonaparte, and if you hurry there's a good tip waiting for you."
An unusual cold had continued for nearly a week, and the ice fête organized by the skating club upon the upper lake in the Bois de Boulogne had been announced for this particular day. This fête had been already frequently postponed on account of the weather. It had become a joke among Parisians to receive an invitation for a date which was invariably followed by a period of thaw, turning the lake into ice water and mud.
And now the afternoon of this January day, which began with the explosion in the Sud-Nord tunnel, had been finally decided upon. The clear atmosphere and severe cold promised no further disappointment. The fête was to be given in aid of the poor of the town and the admission fee was put at a high figure for the purpose of drawing a fashionable crowd and keeping out the mob. Vehicles of all kinds drew up and were parked by the shore of the lake, giving the place the appearance of a fashionable reception.
M. Fouquet-Legendre, President of the Committee, stood chatting with the Marquis de Sérac, and bothmen cast frequent glances in the direction of the town.
"You are sure he will come?" M. Fouquet-Legendre inquired for the twentieth time.
"You may rely upon it, His Majesty himself promised to honor with his presence the reunion organized by your Committee."
M. Fouquet-Legendre moved away to superintend the preparation of a lunch table containing sandwiches, cakes and champagne. The Marquis de Sérac sauntered among the crowd, exchanging bows and handshakes with his numerous friends.
To see this elegant old gentleman, jovial, smiling, without an apparent trouble in the world, it would be hard to imagine that he was the formidable and elusive Fantômas.
The arrival of a superb limousine aroused the curiosity of the crowd. A distinguished-looking man, wearing a striking cloak and a cap of astrakhan, stepped out of it.
It was King Frederick-Christian II. The worthy president immediately suggested a glass of champagne, but the King made it quickly known that he had come to skate, and desired to remain officially incognito.
Frederick-Christian had regained his popularity in the eyes of the Parisians. The suspicion of murderinghis mistress which had attached to him had gradually given way to the belief that he was innocent, and the real perpetrator of the crime was now supposed by the public to be Fantômas.
The King proved himself to be an expert skater, and under the respectful gaze of the crowd, described graceful curves and difficult figures upon the ice. At length the attention of the King was drawn to a woman, who, equally clever, seemed to be amusing herself with copying his evolutions. The figure of this woman seemed not unfamiliar to him, and he finally set himself to follow her, increasing his speed, until the two brought up face to face. Involuntarily a name escaped his lips:
"The Grand Duchess Alexandra! You here, Madame!"
He could not forget that this woman, with all her seductive charm, was actually a redoubtable adversary of his dynasty. The pseudo Grand Duchess, however, manœuvred skilfully, affecting such a timid and embarrassed air that by degrees the King's severity melted under her charm. She seemed a little tired and out of breath from the chase, and when she glanced round in search of support, he could scarcely do less as a gallant man than offer her his arm.
Profiting by this chance, the adventuress adroitly whispered her regrets at the unjust scandal and calumny which had coupled her name with that of Prince Gudulfin.
"Sire," she finally murmured, "give me the opportunity of proving my devotion."
The two, separated from the others, slowly skated away together. Suddenly the King stopped short; he realized he had listened with close attention to the confidences of the troubling person he still took for the Grand Duchess.
What had she been saying to him?
A few minutes later Frederick-Christian, deciding it was time to return to his Hotel, skated toward the bank. The Grand Duchess made a deep curtsey and ended her conversation with these words:
"Sire, may I beg your forgiveness for one of your subordinates?"
"It is granted, Madame ... if what you tell me comes true...."
"Your Majesty will permit me to be present at the Gare du Nord when you leave this evening."
A taxi arrived at the lake. Juve sprang out of it.
The detective bit his lip and swore upon seeing asuperb limousine in which he saw seated Frederick-Christian and the Marquis de Sérac.
"Too late again!" he muttered. "I miss Lady Beltham at the America Hotel; I miss the King at the skating. At least, let me make sure that the so-called Grand Duchess is still here."
A thorough search on the ice and among the crowd on shore failed to discover the lady, who had doubtless left at the same time as the King. While skating from group to group Juve was brought up by a conversation in low tones between M. Annion and M. Lepine. Hiding behind a tree, he listened attentively.
"Well, you know the last news?"
"Yes," declared M. Annion, "but it seems very extraordinary."
"There is no doubt, however, this Grand Duchess Alexandra should be well posted ... now. She has formally promised the King that his diamond will be found in the possession of our man ... who will be under arrest this evening...."
"You believe that?" questioned M. Lepine, with a skeptical smile.
"Well, I believe in the arrest—that is certain; but whether we shall find the diamond is another matter."
Juve's first impulse was to make himself known to his chief; but on second thoughts he decided to keepsilent. He had gathered from the conversation that the arrest of Fantômas was imminent. That, of course, was satisfactory in every respect.
The conversation continued and, as he listened, Juve could not help smiling.
"They are all right! They realize the work I've done and they want me to reap the reward of it."
M. Lepine had, in fact, asked M. Annion:
"You are quite sure Juve will be at the Gare du Nord this evening?"
"Quite sure; I have given him orders to that effect."
Juve decided it was not worth while going home to get the order. Evidently they counted upon him to be at the Station at nine o'clock; ostensibly to assist at the departure of the King, in reality to arrest Fantômas.
The detective moved away, there was not a moment to spare. Whatever happened it was absolutely necessary that he should have an interview with Lady Beltham.
In her small oriental salon, the Grand Duchess Alexandra sat chatting with Wulf, about five o'clock in the evening.
"Really, Monsieur Wulf, you are an extraordinary man, and your intelligence is amazing."
"Madame is too indulgent," replied Wulf, beaming.
"Oh no, I am only fair to you; I know you are a man of value and that is why I have been at pains to re-establish you in the good graces of your sovereign."
Since her return to the America Hotel, Alexandra had been exceedingly busy. To begin with, she had received a visit from her lover, the Marquis de Sérac. A long conversation in low tones had taken place, and the Marquis had left her, nervous and agitated. The adventuress had then put on a smiling face to meet the ridiculous Wulf, and after some mysterious and complicated business with him had been transacted, she had ended by loading the officer with outrageous compliments and saying:
"And now, thanks to you, Monsieur Wulf, the elusive Fantômas is about to be arrested. Be assured the King will give you the very highest proof of his gratitude for this service. Your position at the Court of Hesse-Weimar will be more important than ever."
Night had fallen and the lamps of the Paris streets were lit up.
At the corner of the Boulevard Malesherbes and the Avenue de Villiers, not far from the door of the America Hotel, a man was seated on a bench; heseemed to be merely resting; but in reality he was closely watching each individual who entered and left the Hotel.
This man was Juve.
He began rubbing his hands with a satisfied air.
"Good, good! The evening is beginning well.... There is one important thing for me to do now; shadow Lady Beltham, and not lose sight of her for a single moment, from the time she leaves this Hotel until...."
In her ears an incessant buzzing. On her throat a weight which stifled her. In her mouth a gag which obstructed her breathing and tore her lips. Over her eyes a heavy bandage. Her arms were bound at the wrists, her body was bruised by heavy thongs, and her ankles bleeding from the pressure of cords.
Marie Pascal was gradually regaining consciousness. She tried to make a movement, but her body could not respond; she wanted to cry out, but her voice died away in her throat. At first she thought it was all a nightmare, then memory returned and she recalled every detail of her strange and sinister adventure.
She saw herself starting with Mme. Ceiron to call on Juve. The concièrge had said:
"Don't worry, my dear, I know the way. Monsieur Juve gave me his address."
At length, after a long walk, Mme. Ceiron made her climb the stairs of a decent looking house. On theway up she remembered feeling faint and that the concièrge had given her salts to smell. Following that came complete unconsciousness, out of which she woke to hear a grim menacing voice exclaim:
"I am Fantômas! I condemn you to death in the interest of my cause!"
She was in the hands of Fantômas!
And then she fainted again, but not until after a flood of light had been let into her mind. In a flash she understood that Fantômas himself must have been the mainspring of the incomprehensible events enveloping the King's visit to Paris. Furthermore, she divined that Mme. Ceiron and Fantômas were the same person. It was she who offered the salts, undoubtedly inducing her unconsciousness. The sound of a steady tic-tac she recognized as coming from a nearby clock. Where was she?
Was she really in Juve's apartment?
With a supreme effort she succeeded in turning her head a little, and in the movement the bandage over her eyes became loosened and fell off. She could see at last!
She found herself bound to a large sofa placed in the middle of a well-furnished room. Before her was placed a monstrous and sinister thing—the menacingbarrel of a revolver. Its trigger was bound by a number of strings, each one ending in a nail. These were embedded in lighted wax candles, and from the nails hung a counter-weight.
It was not difficult to guess its purport.
When the candles burned down to the nails, these would become detached, releasing the counter-weights and automatically discharging the revolver aimed straight at her body. Fantômas had no need to return. His infernal cunning had found a means to kill her in his absence.
Marie Pascal calculated that the candles would burn for not more than an hour—an hour and a half at most. The unfortunate girl now began to undergo the agony of waiting for her approaching end. It seemed to her that the candles had been piously lighted for some death watch. When the wax had melted near the first nails, she closed her eyes and a deep sigh of horror escaped from her lips.
"Pity! Pity!"
Suddenly, Jerome Fandor burst into the chamber, anxious to tell his friend Juve about the objects he had found in Marie Pascal's room. Scarcely had he opened the door than he started back in amazement, white as a sheet. Ah! the horrible spectacle of the young girl lying motionless, as though dead, she, whoin spite of everything, he still found charming. Then realizing the situation, he sprang forward, put out the candles and removed the revolver.
"Saved! You are saved!"
With infinite precautions he untied the ropes and placed Marie's head upon some cushions. She opened her eyes slowly and murmured:
"Where am I? Help! Fantômas!"
Fandor endeavored to reassure her.
"Don't be frightened! Fantômas isn't here; you are saved.... It is I ... Jerome Fandor."
Marie Pascal was seated in an armchair, still very pale, but with courage regained.
"Now, Mademoiselle," exclaimed the journalist, "I beg you to tell me everything.... I promise I won't give you up ... time is precious and if your accomplice had tried to get rid of you, it is only natural; you are dangerous for him.... Marie Pascal, I implore you to tell me the truth! Tell me, who is Fantômas?"
The young girl listened to these words with growing amazement.
"The accomplice of Fantômas, I!... What are you saying, Monsieur?... Sire!"
Jerome Fandor interrupted.
"Now don't deny it! Look here, I'll tell you the truth. I am not the King."
"You are not...."
"No, but I haven't time to explain that now... you must help me to capture this criminal ... and I give you my word you will not be involved yourself."
"But I am not the accomplice of Fantômas!"
"Then why did you steal those jewels? Why have you the key of Susy d'Orsel's apartment in your possession?"
Marie's face expressed such bewilderment as Fandor asked the question that he could no longer doubt her innocence.
"Then, for the love of heaven, tell me all you know!"
Marie Pascal told a lengthy story. She recounted in detail the rôle she had played in the tragic affair of the Rue Monceau and ended by exclaiming:
"What you don't know is that Mme. Ceiron is in reality Fantômas. Under this disguise he has tried to assassinate me; he assured you that I had gone to the country, so that rescue would have been impossible."
"Ah, Fantômas!" cried Fandor at the end of the recital, "your hour has come! In an hour at most you will begin the expiation of your crimes!"
As the young girl looked doubtfully at him, he added:
"It's time, Marie Pascal! Come with me and see him arrested!"
"Good evening, Monsieur Caldoni, so you are starting soon?"
"Yes, Monsieur Vicart, it's customary and also my duty, every time a sovereign, a crowned head, takes the train..."
"You stick as close to him as possible until he has reached the frontier. Well, I'm not sorry to see you here," continued Vicart, "for now my job is over."
"And mine just beginning, worse luck."
"Oh! you have only a few hours of it; you travel luxuriously in a special train..."
"One gets tired of that pretty soon. Last week I took the Dowager Queen of Italy to Menton; then jumped to the Spanish frontier to pick up the King of Spain; now it's the King of Hesse-Weimar—to-morrow, who knows?"
The station was decorated gaily in honor of the departing Frederick-Christian. In a private room, a number of the guests, especially invited, were waiting the arrival of the Sovereign.
While M. Vicart, in company with a special agent,made a rapid examination of the station and satisfied himself that all preparations had been thoroughly carried out, M. Caldoni was talking to the station-master.
"The King's special train is to start exactly at 10.17, that is to say, it will follow, at an interval of 10 minutes number 322."
"The 322 is the Cologne express, isn't it?" inquired M. Caldoni.
"Yes, the Cologne express."
In the meantime a vast crowd of the curious who had learned of the departure of the King by the evening papers, filled the waiting-rooms and platforms. Journalists were grouped apart and the invited guests included numerous persons of quality. Among them was Baron Weil, member of the Council of Administration, and delegated to represent it at the ceremony of departure. Lieutenant Colonel Bonnival was also there to represent the State. At the station entrance, M. Havard stood alone, waiting the arrival of the automobile which contained M. Annion, in attendance upon the King.
Making his way noiselessly in and out of the crowd, Juve gradually drew near the front ranks and reachedthe cordon of special officers whose duty it was to bar the way to the platform of departure. Here Juve ran into Michel, and the two men silently shook hands. Juve was about to show his card, but Michel smiled:
"No need for you to show it, Juve."
The detective now mingled with the guests, and as he reached the reception-room he moved behind a lady who had just arrived. Waiting a favorable opportunity he approached her:
"Pardon me," he began in a dry voice, "one moment, please."
The lady turned sharply:
"Monsieur, who are you? What do you want?"
"I am Juve, of the Secret Service."
"And I am the Grand Duchess Alexandra, relative of the King of Hesse-Weimar."
"No, you are Lady Beltham. I recognize you and it will be no use to deny it."
The adventuress started panting, in her eyes a look of fear.
"Ah," she stammered.
"I've got you, Lady Beltham. The time to pay has come. You are under arrest." Then in a whisper he added, "Where is the diamond?"
There was a silence. Lady Beltham lowered her eyes.
"Better tell me, and avoid the scandal."
"Don't make a scandal, I implore you. I have the diamond with me."
At this moment the King of Hesse-Weimar entered the reception-room accompanied by his friend, the Marquis de Sérac.
Juve could not repress a start. The daring of Fantômas was beyond belief. But his first duty was to recover the diamond. Leaning toward his prisoner, he whispered:
"Hand over the diamond immediately."
The adventuress gave him a strange and mysterious look.
"Monsieur, slip your hand into my sleeve."
Juve obeyed. His fingers instantly closed around the precious jewel which he identified at once by the feel.
"Monsieur, I came here for the express purpose of returning it, please believe me."
At this moment Juve met the eyes of M. Annion, and he realized that the time had come to report to his chief. The detective had three plain clothes men at his elbow; he now turned to them and with a gesture gave the care of Lady Beltham into their keeping. Juve then advanced through the crowded room towardM. Annion and the King. The latter watched him closely and whispered to M. Vicart:
"This time we mustn't hesitate."
In a moment Juve felt his arms seized and pinioned, and then before he could recover from his amazement, he was hustled off into a private room.
"Search him!"
Immediately one of his guards snatched the diamond from his waistcoat pocket. Juve looked up and in the doorway stood the absurd Wulf and by his side the Marquis de Sérac.
"Fantômas," he cried, "Fantômas!... arrest him!" Then in a sudden access of rage:
"Let me go, you idiots! M. Annion, what does this mean? Fantômas stands before you! We've got him, and Lady Beltham, too!"
M. Annion paid no attention to his outburst, but calmly turned to another man who had appeared on the scene.
"Monsieur Heberlauf, do you recognize this man?"
M. Heberlauf, who never could make a decision, hesitated:
"It seems to me ... I don't know ... I think I do. Madame Heberlauf can tell you better than I can."
Madame Heberlauf now stepped forward and in aflood of words, explained to M. Annion that she had no doubt in the matter.
"By a most infernal device, Monsieur, this criminal escaped from his prison, and not content with that, he killed an unfortunate servant, an old porter whom our police discovered the following day in the mortuary chapel of Glotzbourg."
Instinctly Juve was about to protest but M. Annion held up a hand.
"Silence. You will explain at the trial." Then turning to the Marquis de Sérac, he handed the diamond to him.
"We are very glad to be able to return this precious jewel to his Majesty Frederick-Christian II, and I place it in your hands, Marquis, in presence of Monsieur Wulf and Monsieur Heberlauf."
A yell from Juve interrupted him:
"God Almighty! the Marquis de Sérac is Fantômas!... Fantômas, the assassin of Susy d'Orsel!"
M. Havard came forward:
"It's no use, Juve, keep quiet. We know all you would say. But I may tell you that in every place where Fantômas left his trace we have found undeniable evidences of your presence."
When M. Havard pronounced the name Fantômas, a young girl sprang forward. It was Marie Pascal.
"Monsieur," she cried, "Fantômas is arrested! Fantômas, the monster who nearly killed me two hours ago!"
"Nearly killed you? Where?"
"In a house in the Rue Bonaparte."
"M. Juve's house," exclaimed the Marquis de Sérac with an ironical smile.
"And who rescued you?" asked M. Havard.
Marie Pascal turned to identify Fandor but the journalist had disappeared.
Getting wind of what was afoot after reaching the station, he had kept out of sight and listened to the rumors of the crowd. It was with stupefaction that he at length discovered that the authorities had actually decided that Juve and Fantômas were one and the same person!
With his usual quick decision, he promptly made up his mind that he would be more useful to his friend if he remained free. He realized the probability of his own arrest for counterfeiting the King.
M. Vicart offered humble apologies to the pseudo Grand Duchess Alexandra, who accepted them with a haughty inclination of the head, and hastened to join the suite of the King.
The latter warmly thanked the Marquis de Séracand amid the acclamations of the crowd the train started.
Wulf, swollen with vanity, cried aloud so that everyone might hear:
"It is thanks to me that he is arrested!"
Juve now left with the police officers, shouted at the top of his voice:
"But I am Juve! Juve! Oh! they are all crazy! Crazy!"
In a few moments he was taken to a waiting taxi, while the crowd took a last look at the departing King and his suite. They were saying:
"That's the Grand Duchess and the Marquis de Sérac!"
Juve gave one great cry of distress, while the tears coursed down his cheeks.
"The Grand Duchess! the Marquis de Sérac! No! no! The police have arrested an innocent man and have let Lady Beltham and Fantômas escape!"
I.
FANTÔMAS
The Adventures of Detective Juve in Pursuit of a Master in Crime.
II.
THE EXPLOITS OF JUVE
In this continuation of "Fantômas" the further adventures of Detective Juve are narrated and tell of his efforts to run the notorious criminal to earth. Fantômas appears here as the leader of a gang of Apaches.
III.
MESSENGERS OF EVIL
This third Instalment of the adventures of Detective Juve contains a recital of some remarkable happenings in the life of this master-criminal of Paris.
IV.
A NEST OF SPIES
Fantômas now appears as the representative in Paris of a Foreign Government whose real business is to obtain important military secrets for Germany. Juve succeeds in defeating his efforts, but the criminal himself escapes once more.
V.
A ROYAL PRISONER
This volume tells of the daring exploits of Fantômas in his attempts to get possession of the King of Hesse-Weimar's famous diamond.
Other Volumes in Preparation