A Nest of Spies

  XXXIV

  A FANTOMAS TRICK

  Fandor stared at himself with wild eyes....

  He must be in an abominable dream, a mad nightmare!... He must be!...

  What was behind all this? This outrage? This Vagualame, criminalproprietor of this pavilion, was the author of it! To him he owed itthat he was thus bound, masked, disguised!

  That sinister menace was still ringing in his ears: "Through Fantomasthou shalt die!"

  Well, however it might come, Death came but once! He would await theevent!

  Fandor's spirit rose once more--indomitable.

  He closed his eyes.

  He lived again, as might a drowning man, his hours of joy, ofstruggle, of triumph, of defeat, of high endeavour: all thethick-packed hours of vivid life. Ah, how Fantomas had haunted himfrom childhood onwards!

  "'Tis but life's logic," he reflected: "I have fought Fantomas, andnot always has the victory been wholly his! More than once I havecalled check to him! It is his turn to take revenge with theirrevocable checkmate. Well, I have lost. I pay."

  The heavy silence of the studio was loud with menace.

  Surrounded by it, he awaited Death's coming, in whatever guise....

  The studio door swung open noiselessly. Some twenty men appeared, allclothed in black and masked in velvet. Their approach over the thicklycarpeted floor was soundless.

  Fandor stared at these strange figures.

  Solemnly, silently, they ranged themselves in a half circle facingFandor. He who was plainly the chief of them remained apart, armscrossed, head high, considering Fandor. He spoke:

  "Brothers! You have sworn to defend Russia, to defend Poland, by everymeans in your power! Do you swear it still?"

  The voices of the masked men vibrated as one:

  "We swear it!"

  "Brothers, are you prepared to risk all for our Cause?"

  "We are prepared."

  The man who posed as chief came nearer his fellow-conspirators, whobent their heads as he apostrophised them:

  "Brothers, there is a man in Paris who has worked more harm to us thanhave all the police in the world: a man who has stirred up against usthe indignant horror of public opinion by an accumulation of hideouscrimes, the responsibility for which he has cast on us!... This man I,Trokoff, have vowed to deliver up to you, that you may wreak yourvengeance on him!... Look well, brothers! He is before you! I deliverhim up to you!"

  The conspirators, as one man, stared at Fandor.

  A murmur issued from the mouths of these masked men; a murmurbreathing hate and menaces:

  "Fantomas!... Fantomas!"

  Fandor did not lose one detail of this scene.

  "Ah," thought he, "the bandit's last trick!"

  Trokoff was Fantomas! Fandor was sure of it! He was abusing the ardentfaith and trust of his disciples, this false apostle! Wishing to ridhimself of Fandor, he delivered him to the vengeance of hiscompanions. Making him pass for Fantomas, he drove them on to murder,thus thrusting on to them responsibility for the crime, leaving themto reap what consequences might follow from the journalist'sassassination.

  How Fandor longed to shout:

  "I am not Fantomas! Your Trokoff is a traitor!"

  But how pull the scales from off eyes blinded by fanaticism? How toprove to them he was not Fantomas? Who among them could recognise theunknown, elusive bandit, Fantomas?

  These Nihilists had for Trokoff an admiration beyond the bounds ofreason. How could he show up Trokoff as he really was?

  It would be madness to attempt it!

  For Fandor divined that behind the mask of Trokoff lurked the evilcountenance of Fantomas--Fantomas who was gloating over his confusionand despair, rejoicing in his agony, counting on his collapse, hopingfor some act of cowardice.

  Never would Jerome Fandor play the coward!

  At this stake to which they had bound him he would die without asound! Fandor drove back from his lips the cry of despair they wereabout to utter. He awaited the event.

  A Nihilist broke from the circle, went up to Fandor.

  "Fantomas! You have heard? You are about to die! What have you to sayin your defence?"

  Fandor was dumb.

  "Fantomas! You would die unknown! But it is good that we, having gazedon your face, should be appeased when we see you dead!... Your hoodand mask--I tear them off you!"

  Trokoff rushed forward, crying:

  "Do not lay hands on him!... This wretch belongs to me!"

  Turning to his fellow-conspirators, Trokoff demanded:

  "My hand should strike the fatal blow! I brought him here! The rightis mine!"

  Trokoff continued, in a quieter tone:

  "The police may have been warned of our gathering here! We are spiedon, tracked! You know it well!... Suppose we stay to watch the dyingagony of this wretch! Suppose the police descend upon us! They willsnatch from us our just revenge and will arrest us all!... Hand overthis monster to me and leave the place. If the police are watching youthey will see you go!... Leave Fantomas to me, that, at my leisure, Imay see him die as he deserves to die!"

  Fandor shuddered: so a lingering agony, a fearful death was to befaced!... Yes, Fantomas meant to torture him, extract from his victimsome appeal for pity, for the mercy this monster in human form couldnever know nor exercise! Yes, Fantomas had changed his plans: rid ofthe Nihilists, he could have it all his own way with Fandor!

  The disciples, as with one voice, cried:

  "We are thy faithful followers. What thou ordainest that we do!"...

  Trokoff turned to Fandor. He shook a threatening fist in Fandor'sface.

  "Collect yourself.... You are to pay the price of expiation soon!"

  This menace hurled at his victim, Trokoff drew his fanatical partisanstogether, made them quit the studio, and vanished with them....

  "He will return," thought Fandor: "And then it is all up with me!Courage to face the worst!"

  The door of the studio had barely closed on Trokoff and his dupes whenFandor heard a breathless murmur at his ear.

  "Quick! Quick! Fandor! Trokoff, you have guessed it, is Vagualame! IsFantomas!... Cost what it may we must get the mastery of him!"

  Fandor could not turn his head, but he felt his bonds were beingloosened.... A minute or two and he was free! He took a staggeringstep or two: his limbs were stiff and numb.... Close to him, watchinghis first difficult movements with an expression of ardent sympathy,our journalist perceived--Naarboveck....

  "You," said he.

  "I!... Fandor, I will explain!... Hold! Here is a revolver!... Ah! thebandits!... They took me too! Me also they have condemned to death!But I managed to escape!... Look out! He returns! We will fall uponTrokoff!... We will avenge ourselves!"

  A heavy step was heard on the stairs; someone was mountinghurriedly.... Trokoff was about to reappear....

  Fandor grasped the revolver de Naarboveck had just handed to him. Hebounded to the door, ready to leap on the entering man.

  De Naarboveck was ambushed on the side opposite to Fandor.

  Suddenly Fandor shouted:

  "Do not kill him! If it is Fantomas, we must take him alive!"

  Before de Naarboveck had time to reply, the door was flung backagainst him, thus putting him out of action for the moment.

  Fandor shot forward, seized Trokoff by the throat, and, rolling on thefloor with him, yelled:

  "To me, Naarboveck! Fantomas, you are taken! Yield!"

  Fandor's grip and spring had been so sudden that Trokoff had not beenable to defend himself. He and Fandor struggled, twisted, writhed, ina terrible embrace; panting, livid, with eyes of hate and horror!

  De Naarboveck had laid hold of Trokoff, shouting:

  "You shall die! You must die!"

  This frightful struggle lasted but a few moments. Trokoff managed tofree himself from Fandor's grip. The stupefied journalist heard afamiliar voice crying:

  "Look out, Fandor! It is Naarboveck we must take! Go it! Go it!"

  The studi
o was plunged in darkness: a door banged: Fandor staggered,driven violently back into the middle of the studio. He felt a man wasrushing away.

  "He escapes! He escapes!"

  Fandor did not know who had remained with him, who, had fled, whetherhe was on his head or his heels!... It was a momentary bewilderment;for the voice he had heard when the struggle was at its height wasstill speaking, calm, mocking.... It was the voice of Juve, saying:

  "How exasperating!... These matches are no good at all!... Ah!... thisone has decided to catch!"

  In the uncertain light of the match flame Fandor perceived someoneleaning against the wall--it was Trokoff!--Trokoff, who calmly went upto a table, took a candlestick, and lighted a candle! Throwing himselfinto an arm-chair, this Trokoff asked:

  "Well now? Why the devil are you got up as Fantomas, my lad?... For amilitary prisoner this is not at all correct!"

  Could Fandor believe his ears? his eyes?

  Trokoff was Juve!

  Fandor looked so bewildered that Juve-Trokoff laughed a merry laugh.

  "Come now, my Fandor, try to gather your wandering wits together a bitand answer me!"

  "You, Juve!... You are Juve!" gasped Fandor, exhausted in mind, andbody with the emotions he had experienced.

  "So it happens," replied Juve: "Well, I see I must speak first as youdo not seem to be in a condition to talk!... Listen, then!...

  "I know these Nihilists, who imagine I am their chief, Trokoff--thatis my latest transformation!... I learned this evening that theseimbeciles, believing they had got hold of Fantomas, were summoned hereto-night to pass judgment on the bandit.... I accompanied them asTrokoff, who had called them together. When we entered, I can assureyou that, bound to your pillar, you made a striking figure ofFantomas!... You took in even me--for a while! Luckily I noticed yourhands, the only portions of you visible, covered as you were in thatconfounded hooded thing they muffled you up in.... You must know thatthe pattern of the veins on the hands is absolutely characteristic andindividual; so much so that the anthropometric service in Vienna isentirely based on this principle!... That is how I recognized you, mylittle Fandor. You can imagine that my one idea then was to get rid ofthe Nihilists as soon as possible, and liberate you! But, by Jove,when I returned, you and Naarboveck between you attacked me sobrutally that you nearly did for me! It was a narrow shave! He wasthrottling me! Had you fired your revolver at me you would almostcertainly have killed me, and then you would have fallen a victimyourself to."...

  Juve stopped. He questioned Fandor with a look. "De Naarboveck!... DeNaarboveck, who is Fantomas," replied Fandor, who now understood thesituation.

  Juve crossed his arms.

  "It is as you say. Vagualame, Naarboveck, Fantomas, are one and thesame: and, be sure of this, we have not set eyes on the real face ofFantomas yet, for de Naarboveck is as much made up for the part as heis when playing Vagualame!... Also."...

  "Juve! Juve!" interrupted Fandor.... "We are mad to stay talking likethis!... Naarboveck has just vanished. He is certain to go to hisplace even if, feeling he is unmasked, he has decided to disappearforever. Do not let him escape! Juve, for Heaven's sake, hurry!"

  Juve did not stir.

  "How very violent you are, and how simple, my little Fandor! Look now,it is quite three minutes since de Naarboveck disappeared from here,and you imagine there is still time to catch him?... It ischildish!"...

  "But Juve! I tell you de Naarboveck must return to his house! Let usput a watch on him and trap him!"

  Juve's voice trembled as he made answer:

  "We cannot arrest de Naarboveck!"...

  "Why?... What do you mean?"...

  "Because, though I have the right to place my hand on the collar ofFantomas, I have no power to arrest de Naarboveck!"...

  Fandor's reply to this was an uncomprehending stare.

  "It's Greek to you, I see! Trust me, Fandor! At present I have noright to reveal this secret, but, take my word for it, Naarboveck isinviolable!"

  Fandor understood that this was an official secret which Juve was notat liberty to divulge.

  "Ye Gods!" he exclaimed.

  "Bah! The game is not lost yet, Fandor, my boy! I have still a card toplay against his, and I play it this very night.... Enough of that forthe moment! I am dying to know how you, whom I believed peacefullyreposing at Cherche-Midi, happen to be playing the part of Fantomas indeserted studios!"

  Juve's coolness was infectious. Fandor was himself again. He told Juvethe story of his escape. At the close he asked abruptly:

  "Now what are we going to do?"

  Juve shook his head.

  "Attention, my lad! Don't mix up the questions!... What am I going todo?... What are you going to do?... You, Fandor, ought to return toCherche-Midi straight away, and ask them to put you back in your cell.That is the wise thing to do, believe me, dear lad!... To get awaylike that was a mistake--a very grave mistake--the falsest of falsemoves.... To escape is equivalent to pleading guilty.... You areinnocent.... Return, then, to your prison ... I can promise you thatyou will not remain there long."

  "And you, Juve?"

  Juve rose, yawned.

  "Oh!... It is a nuisance, but I must get into evening dress ... andthat I do not like ... I must go by train, too--confound it all!"...

  * * * * *

  In a sumptuously decorated study an elegantly clad Juve was listeningto a personage. This personage was addressing our detective in a toneat once friendly and haughty.

  "No. It is not possible. It is asking too much of me! You do not takeinto consideration, Juve, the many complications which such anintervention on my part would give rise to if, by chance, you aremistaken.... I have the greatest confidence in you, Juve, I know yourability: I have had proof of your loyalty: I have experienced yourdevotion, but--you are not infallible!... The story you have told meis so strange, so--improbable, that I have to take into considerationthe possibility of there having been some mistake, some blunder. Ihave to consider the terrible consequences to which I should exposemyself in such a case!"...

  Juve frowned slightly.

  "With all respect, I should like to point out to Your Majesty that itis a mere question of a signature to be given."...

  "A signature, Juve, which commits me, my kingdom! It might fan theflame! Worse: it might put a match to the powder magazine."

  "Your Majesty might consider that by such a signature the thing wouldbe settled."

  "Juve! For the hundredth time I repeat I cannot give you this order!However far back in our annals you might go, I am convinced you couldnot find a precedent for this!"

  "Your Majesty will not forget that with his name, a line of hiswriting, all difficulties would be cleared away."

  "Oh, as to that!... Have you considered that if this decree beunmerited, this document will be a shameful one, and will reflectshame not only on me but on my country? Do you not know that a kinghas no right to put his signature, his seal to an injustice?"

  "Sire, I know that a king should be Justice! Sire, I know I asknothing Your Majesty may not grant! Sire, I have urged, entreated! ButYour Majesty must excuse me when I say that I am no longer asuppliant.... Your Majesty understands me?... It is Juve who requeststhe signature of Your Majesty!"

  The king was visibly hesitating. At last he replied:

  "I understand you, Juve. You would remind me of that official visit toParis when you saved my life and the life of my queen at the risk ofyour own. I told you then that I should never refuse you anything youasked of me! It is to that you allude, is it not?"

  "Sire, I should never call upon your Majesty to pay a debt you did notacknowledge.... I did not then foresee that a decree from Your Majestywould prove the solution of the most formidable problem I have everhad to solve! I would far rather not recall the debt.... Your Majestyhas forced me to remind you of your given word."...

  The king had risen and was pacing the room.

  "If I grant you this decree, Juve, will you tak
e it to theChancellor's Office as soon as you reach Paris?"

  "Yes, Sire!"

  "You will not wait, Juve, to have further proofs of what you assert?"

  "No, Sire!"

  "I must, then, rely solely on your word for it, your certainty, yourconviction?"

  "Yes, Sire!"

  "Juve! Juve! If you exact this in the name of the promise I once madeyou, I will sign this decree for you--but--you will forfeit myfriendship! You will have taken my good faith by storm! Decide then,Juve! Exact this--I grant it you!"

  There was a silence.... Juve broke it.

  "Surely Your Majesty does not wish to put me on the horns of such adilemma? Lose Your Majesty's friendship, confidence, or let pass aunique opportunity?"

  "Yes, Juve.... That is what I wish."

  "In that case, Sire, I do not exact payment! But Your majesty isbreaking to pieces all that my life means! Sire, my own honour willsit that I bring this business to a conclusion, cost what it may! WithYour Majesty's support it was possible.... With only my own resourcesto depend on all is lost!"

  It evidently cost the king something not to give Juve the satisfactionhe implored.

  "Juve, this is cruel! I would rather you had exacted the decree....But all is not ended.... I will order an investigation in afortnight's time."...

  "In a fortnight's time? Your Majesty knows it will be too late."

  The king continued his pacing up and down. He was considering thequestion.

  "Juve, can you bring me face to face with this man? Can you convicthim of his imposture in my presence?"

  "What exactly does Your Majesty mean?"

  "I mean, Juve, that whatever might be the scandal, the humiliation itmight result in for me, I would grant you here and now the decree youclaim if I were assured that you had not made a mistake.... You bringme suppositions, Juve, but no proofs! Arrange so that this man throwsoff his mask, if but for an instant, and I will allow your justice totake its course!... Juve, forget that you are speaking to a king:think of me as your friend!... Whatever the risks to be run, can youbring us face to face under such conditions that the truth will beapparent to me?"

  Juve reflected. He raised his head and looked at the king.

  "Your Majesty," said he slowly: "I am going to ask you to take anextraordinary step.... I am going to ask Your Majesty to perhaps riskyour life. I am going to ask Your Majesty."...

  Juve's emotion was such that he could scarcely speak. Mastering it, hesaid in a low voice:

  "I am going to ask Your Majesty to accompany me in three days' time ...when."...