Messengers of Evil

  XXVI

  IN THE TRAP

  The servant had retired, leaving the three men to their fruit and wine.His hosts turned to Fandor in mute interrogation.... But Fandorcontinued to peel a superb peach with the utmost coolness: he did notseem disposed to talk.

  Barbey broke the silence.

  "Tell me, now that your first day on guard is ended, and you have notleft us for a moment--have you noticed anything at all suspicious?"

  Fandor shook his head. "Nothing whatever."

  This was not strictly true; for he had noticed an individual in thebank, occupied in repairing the telephone. He had made discreetinquiries, and had been told that he was a workman sent by the State, atthe request of the bankers, to see that the lines were in good workingorder. This explanation had at first set his mind at rest regarding thecomings and goings of this individual.

  But, just when he was going in to dinner at seven o'clock, Fandor hadcome across the man in the vestibule of the bank making preparations todepart. It had been a painful surprise for Fandor. He recognised theman, but could not remember exactly who he was, or where he had seenhim....

  Was this workman one of the mysterious band of criminals who, he wasmore and more convinced, meant to strike a blow at Monsieur Barbey, andhis partner, Nanteuil?

  If Fandor had had anything to go upon, he would have had the manshadowed. But he had no sure ground for his suspicions; besides, sentby the State, the man was most probably what he seemed. As he wasworking for the Government, he could easily be traced should such a stepbe found necessary. But to make certain that all was as it should be,Fandor had examined the work done by this individual during the day.There was nothing wrong with it: beyond a doubt, the man was an expert.Therefore, Fandor had felt justified in saying that he had noticednothing suspicious during the day.

  "So much the worse," remarked Monsieur Barbey, with a shrug...."Probably the individuals who are threatening us, have been warned ofyour presence here, and are on their guard. I rejoice as far as we areconcerned; but, as regards the general interest, I almost regret it:that your trap should prove effective, is what we must wish."

  "Have no fear, dear Monsieur Barbey, it will not be laid in vain!Knowing the cunning, the cleverness of my adversaries, I have not theleast doubt they know I am here; but I also know that the audacity ofthese criminals is such, that my presence here would not deter them frommaking their attempt. They believe themselves the stronger, but I hopeto undeceive them."

  "What is your plan of campaign to-night?" asked Monsieur Nanteuil.

  "Before replying to that, will you show me all the means of access tothe house?"

  "With the greatest pleasure."

  The three men left the dining-room: then went into the vestibule.

  "Our courtyard gate is at the far end of the house, on the right," saidNanteuil. "On the left, there are the Bank offices: they occupy thisground floor. The only entrance to them is through this vestibule. Thisdoor closed, it is impossible to get in."

  "Not by the windows looking on to the street?" asked Fandor.

  "No, those windows have heavy iron bars before them. To remove themwould be difficult--very ... As to the windows looking on to the garden,they are closed every evening--you can see for yourself--by strongwooden shutters fastened on the inside."

  "So the Bank offices are perfectly protected?" said Fandor.

  "We believe so. Now, come upstairs to the floor above!... Here is alarge corridor, and that door, on the right, opens into a library. Thetwo rooms which come next, are my own room and a dressing-room. Theother rooms are unoccupied."

  "Does your room face the street or the garden?" asked Fandor.

  "The garden."

  "And the windows?"

  "The windows?"

  "Yes. Would it be difficult, or impossible to climb up to them?"

  "It would be difficult, but not impossible. No one ever enters thegarden. If absolutely necessary, a ladder could be placed against them,a square of glass could be cut out, and the fastening could be undone... but come and see the room, you can then judge for yourself."

  Fandor inspected the room most carefully. The banker was right. It wouldbe comparatively easy to get into the room by the window; but the otherentrances to the room could be easily watched; they resolved themselvesinto one door, which opened on to the corridor.

  Monsieur Nanteuil's room was lightly furnished: he evidently favouredthe modern method: it was a bare apartment, but it was hygienic.

  "Ah," said Fandor, "the bed has its back to the door, and faces thewindow. Very right. You have electric light, I see, near the fireplace,and above your bed. Then it is possible to switch on a bright light atany time.... Valuable, that!"

  Having finished a minute inspection of the room, and, to the amusementof the bankers, having looked under the bed to make sure that no onehad hidden himself beneath it, Fandor declared:

  "I am decidedly pleased with this room, and if you see no objection, Iwish to stay here and await the visitors of to-night."

  "You think of sleeping here alone?"

  "Alone! Decidedly, I do! It is pretty certain that these men know everyinch of your flat; and if they are the sort I take them to be, they willmake certain that everything here is as usual before attempting toattack the Bank. I do not wish them to be frightened off by finding acompanion at my side, and I particularly wish them to mistake me foryou...."

  "But that is frightfully dangerous, surely?" objected Nanteuil.

  "Reassure yourself, monsieur, I do not run any great risk. They won'tknow I am watching them; but I shall have this advantage over them--I amon the lookout for the rascally assassins and robbers, and I do not fearthem in the slightest."

  Fandor was not going to own that he knew there was danger; but he waskeenly set on running this particular risk, for, by so doing, might henot discover the truth?

  When the bankers left him for the night, Fandor again examined everycorner of the room, and all it contained. He tested the electric lightswitch; he took a mental photograph of the situation of the pieces offurniture. He got into bed, half dressed, and lay quietly, grasping hisrevolver, fully loaded.

  He switched off the light, and in that large room, veiled in darkness,he awaited the events of the night. Noises from the street reached himindistinctly. The silence about him was menacing: something was going tohappen here, something sudden, unforeseen, perhaps irremediable.

  Minute by minute, time went by, interminable, monotonous, casting a softveil of sleep over the eyes of Fandor. But thoughts were rising withinhim: more and more keenly he was realising the horrible danger he wasexposing himself to. Beneath closed eyes his brain was active, hisimagination afire.

  "Elizabeth Dollon must be avenged," was his persistent thought."Consequently, I must run some risks to achieve that!"

  A definite fear tormented him. He thought of the curious sleep Elizabethhad fallen victim to in the boarding-house.

  "Provided I have not taken some narcotic without knowing it!... Supposethe villains are going to inject into the room some gas which wouldsuffocate me, and I should not know I was breathing it in? Suppose Ilose consciousness and slip into death?"

  But Fandor drew himself together; he stiffened his will.

  Do they know I am in this room waiting to entrap them? Do they thinkthey will find Nanteuil here defenceless? Who was that workman?... Iought to be able to put a name to that familiar face?

  How slow, how deadly slow, the tic-tac, tic-tac, of the timepiece?Centuries passed between the striking of the hours!... Would it beto-night?... To-morrow night?... Or ...

  On the corridor carpet outside the room, a slight rustling sound,continuous, barely perceptible, caught Fandor's listening ear.... Whowas it?... Was it anyone at all?... Was it imagination? He listenedintently ... not a sound now.... But, yes ... the same rustling sound... it was nearer--moving along the wall. Fandor closed his eyes aninstant, so vividly did he feel that someone was looking at him throughthe wall!

 
Seconds beat by--seconds that might culminate in a moment ofhorror--seconds passing steadily by in regular succession, sinking intonothingness....

  Had someone moved? Were there steps by the door?...

  Fandor thought he heard strange sounds all around him, in the roomitself! His nerves were tensely strung: he was overwrought. Someone wascertainly walking in the corridor!... He had felt a movement along thewall against which his bed stood!

  Impossible to hesitate longer! The door knob, which he could not see inthe darkness, must have moved.... Fandor sensed this movement as surelyas though he himself had placed his hand on the knob....

  Yes, the door was going to open!...

  It was ajar ... it was turning on its hinges--it was open.... Someonewas coming in.... Who?...

  Fandor lay still--he dared not move an eyelid; but in his mind he said:

  "Come in, then! Take the trouble to come in!"

  Thus Fandor, who believed Death was entering the room, dared to welcomethe grim visitor--with a smile!

  * * * * *

  Nothing was happening.... Fandor's feverish excitement sank down todepression.... He must have deceived himself--no one was entering theroom--nothing untoward was happening! He had simply imagined the noisesoutside in the corridor, for nothing happened--nothing ... and once morehe was following the eternal tic-tac, tic-tac of the timepiece!

  The head of Fandor's bed was near the door. He could not, in the densedarkness, fix the point where he supposed the enemy would find him, andhe had the agonising conviction that they were very much at theirease--that they knew exactly where he was, and were quietly preparingtheir attack.

  But had these unknown assassins entered the room?... Yes, it wascertain--there were men behind him--bending over him with outstretchedhands to strangle him!... He could hear the sound their fingers made inpassing through the air to grip his throat, to squeeze his life out!...

  Though he lived a hundred years, never could Fandor forget the agonisingthrill when he sensed that hidden danger! He held his revolver ready tofire. He thought:

  "In whatever way I am attacked, I must not let slip this unique chanceto learn the truth! I must seize the attacker at all costs, and leap tothe electric switch, turn on the light--and I shall be saved! Saved!..."

  Without a cry, without a warning sound, without a moment's time to copewith the violence of the attack, Fandor felt a cloth over his face,strong hands on his throat, a heavy weight crushing his chest.

  "I am lost!" flashed through his mind.

  "I mean to find out the truth!" his will declared.

  With all the force of resistant muscle and will he disengaged himselffrom the power crushing him to death; seized an arm by chance, hung onto it, gripped it, threw off the man, ran to the switch, shouting:

  "Help!"

  Again, Fandor thought he was done for: the switch acted, but no lightflashed forth!

  They had cut the wire!

  Men were holding on to him: their grip was tightening!

  A voice gave a strangled cry.

  "Help!"

  A strange voice! Whose?

  Fandor was weakening. His right hand seemed to be caught in a vise whichwould break and crush it: it was growing tighter and tighter: it waswrenching his arm, was dragging him backwards: it would fracture hisshoulder blade! Who?... Who?...

  By a miraculous effort he freed himself. He leaped away; sprang to themantelpiece; seized a pocket electric torch he had placed there--clac--alight flashed out!... Fandor saw, recognised his attacker!...

  Ah! The form he had seen before--a slim figure, clothed in black!... Ah,this murderer, whose face was concealed by a hooded mask!

  Fandor shouted at him.

  "Fantomas! It's you and I, Fantomas!"

  But, already, this mysterious bandit, unmasked by the unexpected light,had rushed on our journalist.

  The electric torch was extinguished.

  The struggle recommenced, fierce, formidable, desperate! Fandor wasseized by the throat in a strangling grip: he was choking!

  His right arm, so twisted, so bruised, was powerless--and in that hand,now so deadened and helpless that it seemed detached from his body, washis revolver. He must shoot, though almost powerless in the formidablegrip of the bandit. He must shoot if he was to be saved. He managed topull the trigger.

  There was a loud report.

  Fandor felt himself flung towards the wall. The vise loosed its grip.There was a terrific din. The window panes were shattered, a heavy pieceof furniture was pushed aside, oscillated, fell with a crash; then asudden silence; but a silence broken by gaspings, loud breathings,hoarse sounds, an agonising death rattle.

  The dead pause seemed interminable.... Fandor was about to shoot again,when a voice close to him cried:

  "He is escaping!..."

  Jerome Fandor recognised that voice!...

  Another voice said:

  "We must have a light!"

  A wax match flamed and flared.

  By its wavering light Fandor could distinguish three men in the room....Their clothes were torn: there was blood on their faces, they werepanting: they stared at one another.

  Fandor recognised them instantly.

  Leaning against the bed, a gash in his cheek, was Monsieur Barbey.

  Lying on the floor, apparently half dead, was Monsieur Nanteuil.

  Calmly lighting a candle was the telephone workman. He alone seemedunmoved.

  Fandor threw down his revolver and, coolly marching to the door, lockedit.

  Monsieur Barbey followed the journalist with a look. He made a gestureof discouragement and pointed to the window: its panes were smashed topieces.

  "We are tricked--done!" he said. "The assassin has got away!"

  But Fandor, with a shrug, marched up to the window, returned, and saidin a matter-of-fact tone:

  "It is impossible that Fantomas could have made his escape that way!"

  The workman nodded gravely.

  "Monsieur Fandor," said he, "I am entirely of your opinion."