"No one has ever said of me, sir, that I was a coward. I have looked
death in the eyes; I have often hunted and arrested criminals who would
not have had the least hesitation in doing away with me. There are whole
gangs of rascals who have vowed my death. All manner of horrible
revenges threaten me to-day. For all that I have the most complete
indifference! But when people talk to me of Fantômas, when I fancy that
I can detect the intervention of that genius of crime in any case, then,
M. de Presles, I am in a funk! I tell you frankly I am in a funk. I am
frightened, because Fantômas is a being against whom it is idle to use
ordinary weapons; because he has been able to hide his identity and
elude all pursuit for years; because his daring is boundless and his
power unmeasurable; because he is everywhere and nowhere at once and, if
he has had a hand in this affair, I am not even sure that he is not
listening to me now! And finally, M. de Presles, because every one whom
I have known to attack Fantômas, my friends, my colleagues, my superior
officers, have one and all, one and all, sir, been beaten in the fight!
Fantômas does exist, I know, but who is he? A man can brave a danger he
can measure, but he trembles when confronted with a peril he suspects
but cannot see."
"But this Fantômas is not a devil," the magistrate broke in testily; "he
is a man like you and me!"
"You are right, sir, in saying he is a man; but I repeat, the man is a
genius! I don't know whether he works alone or whether he is the head of
a gang of criminals; I know nothing of his life; I know nothing of his
object. In no single case yet has it been possible to determine the
exact part he has taken. He seems to possess the extraordinary gift of
being able to slay and leave no trace. You don't see him; you divine his
presence: you don't hear him; you have a presentiment of him. If
Fantômas is mixed up in this present affair, I don't know if we ever
shall succeed in clearing it up!"
M. de Presles was impressed in spite of himself by the detective's
earnestness.
"But I suppose you are not recommending me to drop the enquiry, are you,
Juve?"
The detective forced a laugh that did not ring quite true.
"Come, come, sir," he answered, "I told you just now that I was
frightened, but I never said I was a coward. You may be quite sure I
shall do my duty, to the very end. When I first began--and that was not
yesterday, nor yet the day before--to realise the importance and the
power of this Fantômas, I took an oath, sir, that some day I would
discover his identity and effect his arrest! Fantômas is an enemy of
society, you say? I prefer to regard him first and foremost as my own
personal enemy! I have declared war on him, and I am ready to lose my
skin in the war if necessary, but by God I'll have his!"
Juve ceased. M. de Presles also was silent. But the magistrate was
still sceptical, despite the detective's strange utterance, and
presently he could not refrain from making a gentle protest and appeal.
"Do please bring in a verdict against someone, M. Juve, for really I
would rather believe that your Fantômas is--a creation of the
imagination!"
Juve shrugged his shoulders, seemed to be arriving at a mighty decision,
and began:
"You are quite right, sir, to require me to draw some definite
conclusion, even if you are not right in denying the existence of
Fantômas. So I make the assertion that the murderer is----"
* * * * *
The sound of hurrying steps behind them made both men turn round. A
postman, hot and perspiring, was hurrying to the château; he had a
telegram in his hand.
"Does either of you gentlemen know M. Juve?" he asked.
"My name is Juve," said the detective, and he took the telegram and tore
the envelope open. He glanced through it and then handed it to the
magistrate.
"Please read that, sir," he said.
The telegram was from the Criminal Investigation Department, and ran as
follows:
* * * * *
"Return immediately to Paris. Are convinced that extraordinary crime
lies behind disappearance of Lord Beltham. Privately, suspect Fantômas'
work."