XXX
APPALLING ACCUSATIONS
"But, Commandant, you cannot possibly maintain that I am not JeromeFandor, journalist!"
The interview between Commandant Dumoulin and Fandor had alreadylasted an hour. It was unlike that which had taken place six daysbefore, when Dumoulin had dealt summarily with the Fandor-Vinson case.Since then Fandor had occupied cell 27, and had had no communicationwith the outside world. Fandor had raged furiously against things ingeneral, against Dumoulin in particular, and against himself most ofall. He acknowledged that Juve had done his utmost to extricate himfrom the tangled web he had involved himself in as Fandor-Vinson.
Each day brought him one distraction which he would willingly haveforegone: he passed long exhausting hours in Commandant Dumoulin'soffice. He found the commandant detestable. Dumoulin was hot-blooded,noisy, unmethodical, always in a state of fuss and fume! He wouldbegin his interrogations calmly, would weigh his words, would belogical, but little by little, his real nature--a tempestuousone--would get the upper hand.
For the twentieth time Fandor had insisted on his identity, andDumoulin, tapping the case papers with an agitated hand, had replied:
"I recognise that you are Jerome Fandor, exercising the profession ofa journalist--since it seems journalism is a profession! But that isnot the question; the problem I have to elucidate! I have to ascertainwhen, and at what exact moment, one Jerome Fandor took the personalityof Corporal Vinson!"...
"I have already told you, Commandant!... Please read my deposition ofthe day before yesterday. I will recapitulate:
"Sunday, November 13th, at five o'clock in the evening, at mydomicile, rue Richer, I received the visit of a soldier whom I did notknow. He stated that he was called Corporal Vinson, and informed methat he had become part and parcel of the spy system; that heregretted it, and, not being able to extricate himself, he was goingto commit suicide.... Desiring to give this unfortunate a chance ofrehabilitating himself, desiring also to come to close quarters withthis gang of spies, I decided to assume his personality, and takeadvantage of his entrance into a regiment where he was not known, andto go there in his place. It was in these conditions that I left eightdays after, on Sunday, November 20th, for Verdun."
"You maintain that you did not assume the personality of Vinson beforethat date?"
"I do maintain that, Commandant."
"But that is the pivot of the whole business, and the important pointyet to be proved!"
"That is not difficult," declared Fandor: "I have alibis who willsupport my statement."
The commandant raised his arms to heaven.
"Alibis! Alibis!... What do they prove, after all?"
"The truth, Commandant.... When I am in Paris it is evident I am notin Chalons or Verdun."
Dumoulin was evidently trying to find an argument to meet theaccused's logic.
"Peuh!" declared he: "With fellows like you, who are perpetuallydisguising themselves, changing their faces as I change my collars,one never knows."... Suddenly Dumoulin's face lighted up.
"Tuesday, November 29th, you were in the shoes of Vinson--is that so?"
"Yes, Commandant."
"Very well. This same Tuesday, November 29th, you were at the Elyseeball as Jerome Fandor! So you see!"
Dumoulin was triumphant.
"I had twenty-four hours' leave, Commandant--quite regular!" protestedFandor.
"Ah!" growled the commandant, glancing knowingly at Lieutenant Servin,who with impassive countenance was listening to this discussion:"Don't talk to me about leave!... Heaven alone knows how easily youspies succeed in obtaining leave!"
Fandor was about to protest vehemently against being numbered with thespies, when the commandant started another subject.
"Added to this, there is something very serious in your case."
"Good Heavens! What now?" ejaculated Fandor.
Dumoulin looked mysterious.
"We will speak of it later on.... The next step is to confront youwith certain witnesses: Lieutenant Servin, see if the witnesses arethere!"
Fandor himself had demanded this confrontation. He did not deny havingassumed the personality of Corporal Vinson, dating from the day whenthe corporal entered officially on his duties as a unit of the 257thof the line, in garrison at Verdun. But the enquiry wished toestablish that, anterior to this, Fandor had already taken the placeof the real Vinson: the military authorities seemed to attach immenseimportance to this point. Fandor had then decided that the simplestway was to be brought face to face with soldiers who had known Vinsonat Chalons: they would state that the Vinson presented to them in theperson of Fandor was not the Vinson they had known.
Thereupon Dumoulin had sent for two men who, as orderlies at Chalons,had lived side by side with Vinson.
There was a momentous silence while Lieutenant Servin went to the endof the corridor and signed to the two waiting witnesses to comeforward. The two men entered the commandant's office, facing Dumoulinin true military style.
Dumoulin, reading out the names of the two witnesses from a paper,started his interrogation with a haughty air.
"Hiloire?"
"Present, Commandant."
"What is your name?"
The soldier opened his eyes wide, and thinking he had to give hisChristian name, stammered:
"Justinien!"
"What?" growled the commandant: "You are not called Hiloire?"
The bewildered man attempted some confused explanations, from which itcould be gathered that Hiloire was his surname and Justinien hisbaptismal name!
"Good!" declared the commandant, who proceeded to question the secondsoldier as to his identity! When it was made clear that he was oneTarbottin, baptismal name Niccodeme, the commandant questioned themtogether.
"You are soldiers of the second class in the 213th of the line, andfulfil the functions of staff orderlies?"
"Yes, Commandant."
"You know Corporal Vinson?"
"Yes, Commandant."
Dumoulin pointed to Fandor.
"Is he Corporal Vinson?"
"Yes, Commandant," repeated the two soldiers.
Lieutenant Servin intervened. He pointed out to his chief that thewitnesses had replied in the affirmative without turning to look atthe supposed corporal.
The commandant cried angrily:
"What kind of imbeciles are you? Before saying that you recognise aperson you must begin by looking at that person! Look at thecorporal!"
The two soldiers obeyed: they turned with precision and stared atFandor.
"Is that man Corporal Vinson?"
"Yes, Commandant."
"You are sure of that?"
"No, Commandant."
Despite the miserable position he found himself in, Fandor could nothelp smiling at the bewilderment of the two soldiers: it was evidentthey could be made to say anything.
The commandant was growing more and more exasperated.
"What's that!" he shouted: "I will give you eight days in the cells ifyou continue to play the fool like this!... Try to understand what youare doing! Do you even know why you are here?"
After consulting each other with a look as to who should answer,Tarbottin explained:
"It is the sergeant who told us that we were being sent to Paris torecognise Corporal Vinson--well, then?"
"Well," continued Hiloire: "we recognised him!"
Then, speaking together, with an air of proud satisfaction:
"Yes, we got our orders. We have carried them out!"
The commandant was scarlet. With a violent blow of his fist he sentthree sets of case papers flying to the ground. He turned toLieutenant Servin.
"I fail to understand why the staff captain has expressly sent us thebiggest fools he could lay hands on.... What the deuce can you get outof such a pair?... Has the counter verification been carried out? Havethey been shown the body of the real Corporal Vinson?"
Lieutenant Servin replied that this had been done.
"And what did th
ey declare?"
"Nothing definite.... I may say they were very much moved at the sightof the corpse--also, that it is decomposing rapidly."
Here Fandor broke in:
"Commandant, I am extremely surprised that you thought it necessary tosummon only two soldiers! It is at least strange!... I have the rightto expect that in the conduct of the enquiry connected with the actionyou wish to bring against me you should proceed more seriously thanyou are doing at present.... A magistrate should be impartial!"...
The commandant had risen. He bent towards Fandor across hiswriting-table. Fandor also had risen--Dumoulin's air was threatening:he was furious.
"What do you mean by that?" he shouted.
"I mean to say," burst out Fandor, "that for the last forty-eighthours you have given proofs of a revolting partiality--against me!"
For a minute Dumoulin drew himself up, crimson, choking: he was anembodied protest. Suddenly he dropped the official and became thefellow-citizen. He cried:
"But I am an honest man!"
Dumoulin was a worthy official of the old school. Whatever histemperamental drawbacks, he undoubtedly aimed at a conscientiousconduct of any case he had in charge. Fandor had made an exceedinglybad impression on him. He had been scandalised that a civilian, a merejournalist, had dared to treat the army with contempt, by so lightlytaking the place of a real soldier. Unquestionably there were gravepresumptions of Fandor's guilt: that was Dumoulin's opinion.
Considering the importance of the affair, the terrible consequenceswhich might ensue for the accused were the case to go against him, itwas imperative that the enquiry should be thorough down to theminutest detail.... The commandant well knew the weak points in hisprocedure. There was this confrontation, with the absurd testimoniesof the two soldiers: it had proved a ridiculous fiasco. Also, he wouldhave great difficulty in showing conclusively that Fandor had been acertain time at Chalons under Vinson's uniform.
Dumoulin, mastering his emotion, resumed his official tone.
"Fandor!"...
He stopped short, glared indignantly at the two soldiers planted inthe middle of the room.
"What are you two up to now?" he cried.
The ridiculous pair saluted, but did not reply.
"Lieutenant, remove those men! We do not want any more of them here!Take them out of my sight!" growled Dumoulin.
The commandant felt he must have a breath of fresh air, collect histhoughts, and calm down before resuming conduct of the case.
"We shall continue this interrogation in ten minutes' time," heannounced and left the room.
* * * * *
The short interval had done its work. The commandant had calmed down,Fandor had regained his self-possession. No longer was it an irascibleofficer facing an inimical accused: two men, fellow-citizens, wereprepared to argue and talk together.... The formal interrogationrecommenced.
"Fandor," began the commandant in an amiable tone, "you have evidentlybeen drawn on by unforeseen events to commit irregularities. Name youraccomplices!"...
Fandor replied in a similar tone.
"No, Commandant, I have not been drawn into the spy circle really, norhave I practised spying.... I considered it right to assume thepersonality of Corporal Vinson solely to obtain information regardingthe relations this unfortunate maintained, compulsorily and quiteagainst his better judgment, with the agents of a foreign power. WhenI had obtained the facts I sought, my intention was to leave the lawto deal with them."
"In other words," said Dumoulin: "you aimed at playing thecounter-spy!"
"If you like to put it so!"
The commandant smiled ironically.
"They always say that!... In the course of my career, Monsieur Fandor,I have had to examine three or four spy cases: well, the defence ofthe guilty man is always the same--you have taken up an identicalposition: I sell secret documents in exchange for more importantones!... This system of defence will not hold water!"
"I cannot take up any other position!" declared Fandor.
"The Council will take that at its proper value," announced thecommandant.
Fandor was asking himself how he was going to get out of a positionthat was growing worse, and that in a very curious way!
The commandant's next question struck a shrewd blow at the accused.
"Fandor--How about those accomplices you refuse to name?... Have theynot remunerated you for your pains?"
"What do you mean to imply by that?" demanded Fandor.
"Have they not given you money?"
"No!"
"Think carefully, and be frank!"
Fandor ransacked his memory.... Ah!... What of that interview in theprinting works of the Noret brothers? Would it be best in accordancewith his aims to deny it? It went against the grain of his naturallyfrank nature to tell such a lie.... Nevertheless he had vowed tohimself a well-considered vow that he would not reveal what he hadlearned: it would be a grave mistake at present.
He lowered his head as he persisted in his declaration:
"No, Commandant! I have not received money from the spies."
The commandant called to the reporter:
"Make a special note of that: underline it with red pencil. This is amost important statement!"
The commandant turned over some papers in his drawer, drew out asealed envelope, opened it, extracted another envelope.
Fandor asked himself, with a thrill of foreboding, what this new moveof the commandant's meant.
From a third envelope, Dumoulin took out several bank-notes, yellowedand crumpled. He held them up for Fandor to see.
"Here are three fifty franc bank-notes--new ones!... They bear thefollowing numbers: A 4998; O 4350; U 5108. They were found, withothers, concealed in your baggage at the Saint-Benoit barracks atVerdun. Do you recognise these notes as having been in yourpossession?"
"How do you think I can know that?" countered Fandor. "One bank-noteis not distinguishable from another!"
"Yes they are: by the numbering," asserted the commandant.... "Iwillingly admit that it is not usual to write down for reference thenumber of every bank-note which passes through one's hands!... We havea better way of demonstrating that the notes I have in my hand were inyour possession."
"What exactly is he going to spring upon me now?" Fandor askedhimself.
There was an impressive pause.
"These notes," declared Dumoulin, "have been carefully examined by theanthropometric service. It has been demonstrated that they beardistinct traces of your finger-marks.... I hope, Monsieur Fandor, thatyou do not contest the exactitude of the Bertillion method?"
"No," replied Fandor simply. "I accept the evidence of theanthropometric method."
The commandant looked more and more satisfied.
"You acknowledge then, that these notes were in your possession?"
"Yes, I do."
The commandant again addressed the reporter:
"Note that important confession! Underline it with red pencil!"
Dumoulin fired a point-blank question at Fandor.
"Did you know Captain Brocq?"
"No."
"You did know him," insisted the commandant.
"No," repeated Fandor. He questioned in his turn:
"Why?"
"Because."... The commandant hesitated, then continued:
"You are not ignorant of the fact that an important document wasstolen from the domicile of this mysteriously murdered man?"
"I know it," admitted Fandor.
"That is not all," continued Dumoulin: "A certain amount of money wasalso stolen from this unfortunate officer. Now, Brocq was in the habitof putting down in his pocket-book the exact sums he possessedand--mark this well--also entering the numbers of his bank-notes!...Now, bank-notes have disappeared from his cash drawer. The missingnotes bear the numbers: A 4998; O 4350; U 5108; the very notes foundin your pocket-book!"
There ensued a dreadful silence. Fandor was thunderstruck....Everything seeme
d in league against him.... Oh, he was caught like amouse in a trap!... These must be the notes that the red-beardedman--probably one of the Noret brothers--had slipped into his hand!...Evidently, from the time of his leaving Paris in Corporal Vinson'suniform, the traitorous gang he meant to expose had known him for whathe was! Without suspecting it, he had been the hunted instead of thehunter: and this chaser of damaged goods and trumpery wares had beencaught in his trap like a fool!... These unscrupulous wretches hadhatched an abominable plot against him!... Fandor felt that eachinstant saw him deeper in the toils! His whole being was invaded by aterrible anxiety, an immense fear. Who could be so powerful, sosubtle, so formidable as to have made a fool of him in such a fashion,to have led him into such traps that even Juve himself could donothing to save him?
One being, and one only, was capable of such a diabolically cleverperformance; and Fandor, who would not believe it some weeks before,when discussing the question with Juve, had now to accept hishypothesis as a certainty: his acts caused his unseen personality tohit you in the eyes! Only one person could pull the strings with sucha demon hand!... Yes, Fandor could no longer doubt that his desperateplight was due to the terrific, odious, elusive Fantomas!
Our journalist was now in the lowest depths. He attempted to keep calmand cool, but he had lost grip of himself.... He stammered, he mumbledconfusedly, justifications, excuses, charging the Noret brothers withhaving given him those terrible bank-notes.
Dumoulin, on his side, was convinced that his examination had made animmense step in the right direction. He considered that theinterrogation might well end with a last word, a last sentence. Heturned to the wretched, over-strained Fandor, and in tones of theutmost solemnity administered his finishing stroke.
"Jerome Fandor, not only are you accused of the crimes of treason andspying, but, taking into account the formal avowals you have justmade, I, here and now, declare you guilty of the assassination ofCaptain Brocq, of the theft of his documents, and of his money!"