Marcel Allain

As one who had the privilege of free entry to the house, Fandor opened the front door of Juve's flat with the latchkey he possessed as a special favour, traversed the semi-darkness of the corridor and went towards his friend's study.

He raised the curtain, opened the door half-way, and caught sight of Juve at his desk.

"Don't disturb yourself, it is only Fandor!"

The detective was absorbed in the letter he was writing to such a degree that he had never even heard the journalist enter. At the sound of his voice Juve started.

"What! You! I thought you had flown yesterday, flown South!"

Fandor smiled a woeful smile.

"I did expect to get away yesterday evening. Juve, in my calling, as in yours, it is the height of stupidity to make plans. You see! Here I am still—stuck here!"

Juve nodded assent.

"Well, what then?" he asked.

"Well, what do you think, Juve?"

The detective leaned back in his chair and considered his young friend.

"Well, my dear Fandor, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Fandor did not seem much disposed to answer. He had taken off his hat and overcoat. Now he drew from his pocket a cigarette-case. He selected one and lighted it carefully, seeming to find a veritable delight in the first whiffs which he sent towards the ceiling.

"It's a fine day, Juve!"

The detective, more and more astonished, considered the journalist with the utmost attention.

"What's the matter with you, Fandor?" he said at last.

"Why are you carrying on like this? Why are you not on your travels?... Without being inquisitive, I suppose you have your head full of other things than the state of the weather?"

"And you, Juve?"

"How? I?"

"Juve, I ask you why you are so upset?"

The detective folded his arms.

"My word, Fandor, but you are losing your head. You think, then, that I am thoroughly upset?"

"Juve, you look like a death's-head!"

"Really?"

"Juve, you have not been to bed!"

"I have not been to bed, have I not? How do you know that?"

Fandor approached the writing-table and pointed to the corner, where a series of half-smoked cigarettes were ranged side by side.

"Ah, I do not doubt, Juve, but that they tidy up your study every morning; but, here are twenty-five cigarette ends, lying side by side: you certainly have not smoked all those in one morning, consequently you have lighted them during the night, and consequently you have not gone to bed."

Juve's tone was bantering.

"Continue, little one, you interest me."

"And, to cap it all, the ends of your cigarettes have been chewed, bitten, mangled,—an indisputable sign of high nervous tension—therefore."...

"Therefore, Fandor?"

"Therefore, Juve, I ask what is wrong with you—that's all!"

The detective fixed the journalist with a piercing look, trying to guess what he was aiming at. But Fandor was too good a pupil of Juve to let him have the slightest inkling of his feelings. There was an enigmatic smile on his lips whilst he awaited Juve's reply.

The detective quickly decided to speak out.

"I am looking into a very serious affair which interests me greatly."

"Grave?"

"Possibly."

This did not satisfy Fandor. He seated himself on the corner of the writing-table and considered his friend.

"See now, Juve, answer me if you can see your way to it.... Your attitude makes me sure that important things are in the air: you are in a very emotional condition, and that for some reason I have not fathomed. Can I be useful to you? Will you not let me share this secret?"

"Will you tell me yours?"

"In three minutes."

Juve sat for a few minutes deep in thought. Then in a changed voice, a solemn voice with a sharp note in it, he said:

"You know about Captain Brocq's sudden death, of course?... Let me tell you that I have discovered it was an assassination. It's this affair I am giving all my attention to."

When there was mention of the Brocq affair, Fandor started. Here was a strange coincidence. Since last night had not his own mind been distressed by the mysteries he divined in this strange death? And now here was Juve also upset by his examination of this same affair.

Fandor drew up a chair, placed himself astride it, facing Juve, putting his elbows on the back and holding his head between his hands.

"You are looking into this Brocq affair, Juve?... Very well! So am I!... You have read my articles?"

"They are very interesting."

"They lack conclusiveness, however!... But, as things are, I could not do better, not having any precise information and facts to go upon. Are you quite certain about the facts yourself? Do you know who has struck the blow?"

"Don't you suspect, Fandor?"

Juve did not give him time to reply. He half rose from his seat, and, bending close to Fandor, looked him straight in the eyes.

"Tell me, my boy! Suppose that after six months of truce, six months of tranquillity, your whole existence is again violently upset? If you understood that the efforts and dangers and struggles and tenacity of six long years were entirely wasted, and that the results you thought you had achieved did not exist—that you had to begin all over again—that once more you had to play a match with not only your life for stakes, but your honour as well—tell me, Fandor, would you not be stirred to your depths?"

Our journalist feigned indifference: it was the best way to draw Juve on, he well knew.

"What do you mean, Juve?"

"What do I mean, my boy? You shall hear! Do you know who killed Captain Brocq?"

"No! Who?"

"FantÔmas!"

At this sinister name Fandor jumped up as though thunderstruck.

"FantÔmas?... You accuse FantÔmas of having killed Captain Brocq?"

Juve nodded assent.

The two men stared at each other in horror-struck silence.

FantÔmas!

What a flood of memories, horrid, menacing, that name evoked! There flashed through Fandor's mind all that he knew of the atrocities which could be imputed to FantÔmas. He seemed to live over again the recent years of continual struggle, of almost daily contest with the mysterious criminal—FantÔmas!... But had not Juve declared—and not so long ago—after the drama of rue Norvins,[2] when the elusive monster had been driven to flight—had not Juve declared that FantÔmas had vanished for good and all! Now, at this precise moment, he was accusing this criminal of a fresh crime!... Fandor thought, too, of the conclusions he had himself arrived at, whilst studying the Brocq affair from his own point of view: that it was a drama of spies and spying.... Surely either he was mistaken—or Juve was!... Was it a murder, or a political assassination?... No longer pretending indifference, he questioned Juve anxiously:

[2] See The Exploits of Juve, vol. ii, FantÔmas Series.

"You accuse FantÔmas? In the name of death and destruction, why?"

Juve had regained his self-possession. By pronouncing the word "FantÔmas," by giving utterance to his secret fears, he had relieved his feelings.

"Fandor!" said he, in a quiet voice: "Consider carefully all the details and circumstances of this drama! In open day, on one of the most frequented promenades of Paris, an officer falls mortally wounded when passing in a taxicab, going possibly to some appointed meeting-place in one of the restaurants of the Bois. His taxi is surrounded by a crowd of vehicles, and without having time even to see his attacker, without anyone having seen him, Brocq collapses, mortally wounded, killed as though in battle, by a shot, a mysterious shot, fired from a weapon of the most perfect kind.... Come now, Fandor! Is that not a crime worthy of FantÔmas?"

But the journalist was not convinced.

"True, this crime is worthy of FantÔmas, but I do not think FantÔmas has committed it.... You go too far, Juve! You are the victim of your hobby. Believe me, you exaggerate—you cannot trace every strange and subtle crime to this criminal!"

"If you do not attribute this crime to FantÔmas, then at whose door do you lay it?" demanded the detective, who was well aware that he must guard against being the victim of a FantÔmas obsession.

"Juve," replied Fandor, "I have been charged by Dupont to look into the Brocq affair, and have had to postpone my holiday to do it—that is how you see me this morning.... Well, I have begun my enquiry, and am trying to find out the exact truth regarding this unfortunate officer's death.... I have visited certain of his relations, interviewed the people who have known him, I have been able to get into touch with this Bobinette, who seems to be the last person who approached him a little before his assassination, and I have also arrived at a conclusion."

"And that is—Fandor?"

"A conclusion, Juve, which does not involve FantÔmas in the slightest degree, a conclusion which, I assure you, has the advantage of being more certain, plainer, more absolutely definite than yours."...

"And that is—Fandor?"

"Juve, this officer belonged to the Second Bureau of the Staff Officer's Headquarters."...

"Yes, and?"...

"Juve, when an officer of the Second Bureau disappears in such tragic conditions, do you know what one presumes to be the reason of that disappearance?"

"What?"

"Juve, I assert that if Captain Brocq is dead it is because there is a spy in the pay of a foreign power, who, being under supervision, perhaps on the point of being arrested, has resolved that the captain must die in order to save himself.... A document has been stolen, and it is precisely this fact which makes me disbelieve in the intervention of FantÔmas."...

"You do not believe me, Juve?"

The detective shrugged his shoulders.

"No, I do not think you are right.... In the first place, FantÔmas is capable of everything—capable of the theft of a document for which a foreign power would pay him very highly, just as there is no other kind of theft he is not capable of.... And then, dear boy, a spy, a traitor in the pay of a foreign power would not dare to attempt the crime to which we are giving all our attention—not in that particular way at any rate. There is only one person who would risk that—FantÔmas."

Fandor's laugh had a note of mockery in it. He let Juve see that he thought his ideas on this subject were very simple indeed.

"It is your hobby which always inspires you," he repeated.... "Beyond question I am the first to believe in the audacity of FantÔmas ... and if I do not know all the secrets of terror hidden in this word 'spying,' I am ready enough to be convinced.... But, look here, Juve, I know the world of spies, I have studied them, I know what they are capable of attempting, ... and I do not speak lightly when I tell you that the assassination of Brocq is a political crime."

Juve continued to shake his head, quite unconvinced.

Fandor continued:

"Juve, believe me! Who says 'spy,' says 'capable of anything.' The officers of the Second Bureau are, in short, the true directors of the police spy system; they know all the shameful mysteries whereby some individual reputed honest, honourable in appearance, is in the pay of the foreigner. They know the traitors. They know who sells France and who buys France. Every day they are in relation with the agents belonging to all classes of society, lawyers, commercial men, small shopkeepers, commercial travellers, railway servants, women of the world, women of the pavement, thousands of individuals who continually travel about the country, holding it in a network of observations, notes, remarks, the result of all of which might be that some one power would have immediately the advantage over some other, because it knew the weak points where it could launch its attack.... You know, Juve, that they are people who do not shrink from anything when their interest is at stake. You know that the man who betrays, who spies, who is an informer, is always disavowed by the country who employs him.... You know that those who are taken in the act are punished to the utmost, consequently they will stick at nothing to save themselves from being caught. Do you not think that in this spy-world there might be found a man who, driven into a corner by circumstances, would be daring enough to commit the crime which is occupying our attention now? You say: 'It is a crime worthy of FantÔmas!' Agreed. But I reply to you: 'There must be spies worthy of being compared to FantÔmas!'"...

Fandor stopped short. Suddenly Juve threw himself back in his chair: the detective laughed aloud, a burst of ironic laughter. "My dear boy," said he, "do not be angry with me."

"What nonsense, Juve—You know very well that I would not be that!"

"Well, my dear Fandor, you see in the assassination of Captain Brocq an affair of spying because you have had your hobby for some time past—the hobby of spying."

Fandor smiled. Juve continued:

"Come! Is it not true that six months ago—it was just after the Dollon assassination—you published in La Capitale a whole series of papers relating to affairs of treason?"

"True, but."...

"Is it correct that you learned just then that one could define the Second Bureau as the world of spies, and that you were extremely struck by this, extremely surprised?"

"That is so, Juve. It is precisely because I had this information, and was able to get a fair knowledge of the terrible secrets existing in this dark Government department, that I am in a position now to ascribe the Brocq affair to the action of some group of spies."

"Your hobby again, Fandor! The assassination of the captain has occurred under such circumstances that it can only be imputed to FantÔmas. Let us look the truth in the face! We are going to enter into a fresh struggle with FantÔmas! That is a certainty!"

"It's your hobby now, Juve! There's no FantÔmas in this affair. No! We are face to face with a very serious business, there I agree with you; but it is wholly a spy job—nothing else!"

Getting up, the journalist added:

"This very evening I shall publish in La Capitale an article in which I shall explain exactly what spies are, the real part they play in the body politic, their terrible power; that it is a mistake to consider them only cowards; that owing to the exigencies of their sinister profession, they very often give proof of an exceptional courage—bravery—and in which I shall."...

With a shrug, Juve interrupted:

"In which you will write nonsense, old boy.... Anyhow, you are free!"

"That's true! Free to spend a fortnight in the Sunny South, where I shall be in a few hours' time! Anyhow, read my article in La Capitale; I tell you I am going to take a lot of trouble over it!"...

"A fortnight hence, then, Juve!" He added in a bantering tone:

"Don't dream too much of FantÔmas.... What!"