"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 word inviolability.

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; it is 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.... Are you 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 come to 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 END

FANTÔMAS DETECTIVE TALES

By Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain

I

FANTÔMAS

The Adventures of Detective Juve in pursuit of a master in crime.

II

THE EXPLOITS OF JUVE

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.

III

MESSENGERS OF EVIL

Filled with hair-raising incidents this tale is a fascinating recital of remarkable happenings in the life of the master-criminal of Paris.

IV

A NEST OF SPIES

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.

12mo. Cloth. $1.35 net per volume

BRENTANO'SNEW YORK