M. Fuselier was standing in his office in the law courts at Paris,
meditatively smoothing the nap of his silk hat. His mind was busy with
the enquiries he had been prosecuting during the day, and although he
had no reason to be dissatisfied with his day's work he had no clear
idea as to what his next steps ought to be.
Three discreet taps on the door broke in upon his thoughts.
"Come in," he said, and then stepped forward with a hearty welcome as he
recognised his visitor. "Juve, by all that is wonderful! What good wind
has blown you here? I haven't seen you for ages. Busy?"
"Frightfully."
"Well, it's a fact that there's no dearth of sensational crime just now.
The calendar is terribly heavy."
Juve had ensconced himself in a huge easy chair in a corner of the room.
"Yes," he said, "you are quite right. But unfortunately the calendar
won't be a brilliant one for the police. There may be lots of cases, but
there are not lots that they have worked out to a finish."
"You've got nothing to grumble at," M. Fuselier smiled. "You have been
in enough cases lately that were worked out to a finish. Your reputation
isn't in any danger of diminishing."
"I don't know what you mean," Juve said deprecatingly. "If you refer to
the Beltham and Langrune cases, you must admit that your congratulations
are not deserved. I have achieved no definite result in either of those
affairs."
M. Fuselier also dropped into a comfortable chair. He lighted a
cigarette.
"You have found out nothing fresh about that mysterious murder of Lord
Beltham?"
"Nothing. I'm done. It is an insoluble mystery to me."
"You seem to be very sorry for yourself, but really you needn't be,
Juve. You cleared up the Beltham case, and you solved the Langrune case,
although you try to make out you didn't. And allow me to inform you,
those two successes count, my friend."
"You are very kind, but you are rather misinformed. Unfortunately I have
not cleared up the Beltham case at all."
"You found the missing peer."
"Well, yes, but----"
"That was an amazing achievement. By the way, Juve, what led you to go
to the rue Lévert to search Gurn's trunks?"
"That was very simple. You remember what an excitement there was when
Lord Beltham disappeared? Well, when I was called in I saw at once that
all ideas of accident or suicide might be dismissed, and that
consequently the disappearance was due to crime. Once convinced of that,
I very naturally suspected every single person who had ever had
relations with Lord Beltham, for there was no single individual for me
to suspect. Then I found out that the ex-Ambassador had been in
continuous association with an Englishman named Gurn whom he had known
in the South African war, and who led a very queer sort of life. That of
course took me to Gurn's place, if for nothing else than to pick up
information. And--well, that's all about it. It was just by going to
Gurn's place to pump him, rather than anything else, that I found the
noble lord's remains locked away in the trunk."
"Your modesty is delightful, Juve," said M. Fuselier with an approving
nod. "You present things as if they were all matters of course, whereas
really you are proving your extraordinary instinct. If you had arrived
only twenty-four hours later the corpse would have been packed off to
the Transvaal, and only the Lord knows if after that the extraordinary
mystery ever would have been cleared up."
"Luck," Juve protested: "pure luck!"
"And were your other remarkable discoveries luck too?" enquired M.
Fuselier with a smile. "There was your discovery that sulphate of zinc
had been injected into the body to prevent it from smelling
offensively."
"That was only a matter of using my eyes," Juve protested.
"All right," said the magistrate, "we will admit that you did not
display any remarkable acumen in the Beltham case, if you would rather
have it so. That does not alter the fact that you have solved the
Langrune case."
"Solved it!"
M. Fuselier flicked the ash off his cigarette, and leant forward towards
the detective.
"Of course you know that I know you were at the Cahors Assizes, Juve?
What was your impression of the whole affair--of the verdict, and of
Etienne Rambert's guilt or innocence?"
Juve got up and began to walk up and down the room, followed by the
magistrate's eyes. He seemed to be hesitating as to whether he would
answer at all, but finally he stopped abruptly and faced his friend.
"If I were talking to anybody but you, M. Fuselier, I would either not
answer at all, or I would give an answer that was no answer! But as it
is----, well, in my opinion, the Langrune case is only just beginning,
and nothing certain is known at all."
"According to that, Charles Rambert is innocent?"
"I don't say that."
"What then? I suppose you don't think the father was the murderer?"
"The hypothesis is not absurd! But there! What is the real truth of the
whole affair? That is what I am wondering all the time. That murder is
never out of my head; it interests me more and more every day. Oh, yes,
I've got lots of ideas, but they are all utterly vague and improbable:
sometimes my imagination seems to be running away with me."
He stopped, and M. Fuselier wagged a mocking finger at him.
"Juve," he said, "I charge you formally with attempting to implicate
Fantômas in the murder of the Marquise de Langrune!"
The detective replied in the same tone of raillery.
"Guilty, my lord!"
"Good lord, man!" the magistrate exclaimed, "Fantômas is a perfect
obsession with you," and as Juve acquiesced with a laugh the magistrate
dropped his bantering tone. "Shall I tell you something, Juve? I too am
beginning to have an obsession for that fantastic miscreant! And what I
want to know is why you have not come to me before to ask me about that
sensational robbery at the Royal Palace Hotel?"
"The robbery from Princess Sonia Danidoff?"
"Yes: the Fantômas robbery!"
"Fantômas, eh?" Juve protested. "That remains to be seen."
"Why, man," M. Fuselier retorted, "you have heard that detail about the
card the man left, haven't you?--the visiting card that was blank when
the Princess found it, and on which the name of Fantômas afterwards
became visible?"
"There's no Fantômas about that, in my opinion."
"Why not?"
"Well, it isn't one of Fantômas' little ways to leave clear traces
behind him. One might as well picture him committing robbery or murder
in a cap with a neat little band round it: 'Fantômas and Co.' He might
even add 'Discretion and Dispatch!' No, it's most unlikely."
"You don't think Fantômas capable of throwing down his glove to the
police in the shape of some such material proof of his identity?"
"I always base my arguments on the balance of probabilities," Juve
replied. "What emerges from this Royal Palace story is that some common
hotel thief conceived the ingenious idea of casting suspicion on
Fantômas: it was just a trick to mislead the police: at least, that is
my opinion."
But M. Fuselier declined to be convinced.
"No, you are wrong, Juve: it was no common hotel thief who stole Mme.
Van den Rosen's necklace and Princess Sonia's hundred and twenty
thousand francs; the prize was big enough to appeal to Fantômas: and the
amazing audacity of the crime is suggestive too. Just think what
coolness the man must have had to be able to paralyse the Princess's
power of resistance when she tried to call for help: and also to get
clear away in spite of the hosts of servants in the hotel and all the
precautions taken!"
"Tell me all about the robbery, M. Fuselier," said Juve.
The magistrate sat down at his desk and took up the notes he had made in
the course of his official enquiry that day. He told Juve everything he
had been able to elicit.
"The most amazing thing to me," he said in conclusion, "is the way the
fellow, when he had once got out of Princess Sonia's room, contrived to
get into the lift, shed his evening dress, get into livery, and make his
first attempt to escape. When the hall porter stopped him he did not
lose his head, but got into the lift again, sent that flying up to the
top of the hotel with the clothes that would have betrayed him, calmly
presented himself before Muller, the night watchman, and contrived to be
told to go for the police, ran down the stairs again, and took advantage
of the night watchman's telephoning to the hall porter to get the latter
to open the door for him, and so marched off as easily as you please. A
man who kept his nerve like that and could make such amazing use of
every circumstance, who was so quick and daring, and who was capable of
carrying through such a difficult comedy in the middle of the general
uproar, richly deserves to be taken for Fantômas!"
Juve sat in deep consideration of the whole story.
"That isn't what interests me most," he said at last. "His escape from
the hotel might have been effected by any clever thief. What I think
more remarkable is the means he took to prevent the Princess from
screaming when he was just leaving her rooms: that really was masterly.
Instead of trying to get her as far away as possible and shut her up in
her bedroom, to take her with him to the very door opening on to the
corridor, where the faintest cry might have involved the worst possible
consequences, and to be sure that the terror he had inspired would
prevent her from uttering that cry, to be able to assume that the victim
was so overwrought that she would make no effort at all and could do
nothing--that is really very good indeed: quite admirable psychology!
Fine work!"
"So you see there are some unusual features in the case," said M.
Fuselier complacently: "this, for instance: why do you suppose the
fellow stayed such a long time with the Princess and went through all
that comedy business in the bathroom? Don't forget that she came in
late, and it is extremely probable that he might have finished his job
before she returned."
Juve passed his hand through his hair, a characteristic trick when his
mind was working.
"I can imagine only one answer to that question, M. Fuselier. But you
have inspected the scene of the crime: tell me first, where do you think
the rascal was hidden?"
"Oh, I can answer that definitely. The Princess's suite of rooms ends in
the bathroom, you know, and the chief things there are the famous bath,
some cupboards, and a shower bath: the shower bath is one of those large
model Norchers with lateral as well as vertical sprays, and a waterproof
curtain hanging from rings at the top right down to the tub at the
bottom. There were footmarks on the enamel of the tub, so it is clear
that the thief hid there, behind the curtain, until the Princess got
into her bath."
"And I suppose the shower bath is in the corner of the room near the
window?" Juve went on. "And the window was partly open, or had been
until the maid went in to prepare her mistress's bath? It's quite
interesting! The man had just succeeded in stealing the necklace from
Mme. Van den Rosen, whose rooms are next to Princess Sonia's: for some
reason or other he had not been able to escape through the corridor, and
so he naturally made up his mind to get into the Princess's suite, which
he did by the simple process of stepping over the railing on the balcony
and walking in through the open window of the dressing-room."
"And then Nadine came in, and he had to hide?"
"No, no!" said Juve, "you are getting on too fast. If that had been so,
there would have been no need for all the bath business; besides, the
Princess was robbed, too, you know. That was not just chance, it was
planned; and so if the thief hid in the shower bath he did so on purpose
to wait for the Princess."
"But he did not want her!" Fuselier retorted: "very much the reverse. If
he was in the room before anybody else, all he had to do was, take the
pocket-book and go!"
"Not a bit of it!" said Juve. "This robbery took place at the end of the
month, when the Princess would have big monthly bills to meet, as the
thief must have known. He must have found out that she had withdrawn her
portfolio and money from the custody of the hotel. But he must have been
ignorant of where she had placed the portfolio; and he waited for her to
ask her--and she told him!"
"That's a pretty tall yarn!" M. Fuselier protested. "What on earth do
you base it all upon? The Princess would never have shown the man the
drawer where the money was taken from!"
"Yes, she did!" said Juve. "Look here: this is what happened: the fellow
wanted to steal this pocket-book, and did not know where it was. He hid
in the shower bath and waited, either for the Princess to go to bed or
take a bath, either of which would place her at his mercy. When the lady
was in the bath he appeared, threatened her, until she was terrified,
and then bucked her up a bit again and hit on the dodge of putting out
the electric light--not out of respect for her wounded feelings, but
simply in order to get a chance to search through her clothes and make
sure that the pocket-book was not there. I am convinced that if he had
found it then he would have bolted at once. But he didn't find it. So he
went to the end of the next room and waited for the Princess to come to
him there, which is precisely what she did. He did not know where the
money was, so he watched every movement of her eyes and saw them go
automatically towards the drawer and stay there; then he slipped his
card into the drawer, abstracted the pocket-book, and took his leave,
driving his impudence and skill to the length of making her see him to
the door!"
"Upon my word, Juve, you are a wonder," M. Fuselier said admiringly.
"I've spent the entire day cross-examining everybody in the hotel, and
came to no definite conclusion; and you, who have not seen anything or
anybody connected with it, sit in that chair and in five minutes clear
up the entire mystery. What a pity you won't believe that Fantômas had
a finger in this pie! What a pity you won't take up the search!"
Juve paid no heed to the compliments to his skill. He took out his watch
and looked at the time.
"I must go," he said; "it's quite time I was at my own work. Well, we
may not have been wasting our time, M. Fuselier. I admit I had not paid
much attention to the Royal Palace Hotel robbery. You have really
interested me in it. I won't make any promises, but I think I shall very
likely come again in a day or two for another talk with you about the
case. It really interests me now. And when once I'm quit of one or two
pressing jobs, I don't say I shan't ask leave to go thoroughly into it
with you."