THE ACCUSING WAISTCOAT
"As a matter of fact, Monsieur Juve, did not the celebrated Vidocq
before he was a detective begin life as a murderer?"
Wulf, book in hand and comfortably installed in a large armchair,
addressed the question to Juve, who answered in brief monosyllables,
without turning his head:
"That's true, Monsieur Wulf."
"And don't you think that every detective at one time or another has a
tendency toward crime, either as a thief or as an assassin?"
"That I cannot say."
* * * * *
What a day Juve had passed! Events had succeeded each other with such
startling rapidity that the detective, in spite of his robust physique,
began at length to feel the strain. As a matter of fact he had really
had no rest since his tragic awakening in the mortuary chapel at
Glotzbourg. He had passed the following night in the train without
closing an eye. Upon his arrival he had been busy without interruption
until he found himself, at ten o'clock at night, in his little apartment
in the Rue Bonaparte with the grotesque Wulf as companion. While the
latter was tranquilly reading the adventures of Vidocq, Juve was
absorbed in a strange task which occupied his entire attention.
He was minutely examining a queer-looking garment, a waistcoat of very
unusual cut. He turned to Wulf:
"Monsieur Wulf, you recognize this garment, don't you? There is no doubt
that it came from Jacob and Company, the Glotzbourg tailors?"
Wulf nodded.
"No doubt whatever. I've had too much experience in such matters to be
mistaken.... Besides, the initials J. G. are on the buttons."
"Yes, yes--Jacob of Glotzbourg."
Juve now examined the lining with a magnifying glass, muttering the
while:
"Ah, just as I expected!"
The pocket of the waistcoat had been distended by some large object
which had been forcibly introduced into it. The detective quickly took
some modeling clay and made it into certain dimensions carefully
measured, then with a stick he marked the surface of the ball into
facets, referring now and again to a book open before him. "Let's see,"
he exclaimed, "the Hesse-Weimar diamond is two-thirds of a hen's egg in
size, and weighs 295 carats, that is to say, larger than the Koh-i-noor,
the famous Indian diamond, one of the crown jewels of England."
He now introduced his model into the pocket and found that it fitted the
hole exactly.
"There! What do you say to that!" he cried.
"Why, you're very clever, Monsieur Juve," replied Wulf, "but I don't see
how that helps. Even if you prove that the King's diamond was kept for a
certain time in the pocket of that waistcoat, still you don't know to
whom the waistcoat belongs, and that's the most important point."
Juve, still engrossed in his examination, vouchsafed no reply, and Wulf
with folded arms stood contemplating him. Various problems were engaging
Juve's thoughts, whose day had been exceedingly busy.
After being satisfied that Frederick-Christian was really back again at
the Royal Palace, the question arose as to what had become of him after
his disappearance. A hurried visit to Fandor's lodgings disclosed the
fact that the journalist, after a brief absence, had returned home for
an hour and had then disappeared again.
"Upon my word," he thought, "he might at least have sent me some word.
He must know how anxious I would be about him."
From Fandor's house Juve had gone direct to Susy d'Orsel's apartment. It
was a theory of his that a good detective could never visit too often
the scene of a crime. Mechanically he went through the various rooms
until he reached the kitchen.
"I have a feeling that something happened here," he muttered, "but
what?"
A close examination of the floor showed distinct traces of feet in some
fine coal dust. These traces proved to be those of a woman's shoes,
small, elegant and well made. They could not possibly belong to Mother
Citron nor to Susy d'Orsel, who, he recalled, had worn satin mules on
the night of the murder. The person who immediately presented herself to
Juve's mind was Marie Pascal.
"The deuce!" he cried, "this becomes complicated. This coal dust and
these imprints were not here a few days ago, therefore some one has been
here since and has evidently been at pains to lay a false trail!"
With the intention of examining the servants' staircase again, he let
himself out with a pass-key and began the descent. But so absorbed was
he in his thoughts that unconsciously he went down one flight too many
and found himself in the cellar of the building. Juve, following his
custom of never neglecting to search even the most unsuspicious places,
lit his electric light and examined the room he had entered.
On either side of the cellar were ranged a number of doors, all securely
padlocked. These were evidently the private cellars of the tenants. As
he threw his light on the floor, he could not repress a movement of
surprise. Dropping on all fours, he began a close examination of the
ground.
"Now I begin to see daylight. For some time I have had the conviction
that Frederick-Christian, upon leaving Fandor made his escape by the
servants' staircase, and thus left the house. But I could not understand
why he had not returned to his hotel. My conclusion was wrong.
Frederick-Christian, like myself, came down a flight too many and found
himself, as I have, in this cellar. Evidently a scoundrel was waiting
for him here. The trampled ground, the shreds of silk torn from a high
hat, all indicate clearly the struggle which took place. But the King,
being drunk, was easily overpowered and bound. That is the reason he did
not reach his hotel."
One difficulty still troubled the detective. It had been shown that on
the night of December 31st, the third person, otherwise the King, whom
Fandor declared to be in the apartment, had been unable to escape by
the back stairs, since the door was locked and bolted. Then it came into
Juve's mind that the maid Justine in giving testimony had become
embarrassed and finally had admitted that the key having been lost, she
had neglected to lock the door. This cleared up the dubious point and
established in Juve's mind the complete explanation of what happened.
Fantomas, after killing Susy d'Orsel, had lurked on the stairs until the
King left the apartment. Then, locking the door, he had hurried after
his victim and caught him at the moment he reached the cellar.
The detective's next move was to break into the apartment of the Marquis
de Serac. By the aid of a ladder which he found in a corner, he climbed
up and broke a windowpane and thus made his entrance. At first nothing
in the apartment seemed worthy of suspicion. The rooms were elegant but
commonplace. The bureaus and wardrobes were locked, and gave out a
hollow sound when rapped upon. As he did not have his burglar's
equipment with him, Juve decided to come back later and investigate. He
was on the point of leaving when his foot caught in a garment, which he
found to be a waistcoat. He gave vent to an exclamation of surprise as
he picked it up and folding it into a bundle hid it under his overcoat.
The Marquis de Serac had been under his suspicion for some time; now
that suspicion was in a fair way to become a certainty. Were the Marquis
and Fantomas one and the same?
Juve was inclined to answer in the affirmative....
* * * * *
The next step was to invite Wulf to dine with him, to show him the
waistcoat and prove beyond doubt that it had been made by a tailor of
Glotzbourg.
Juve's opinion had now become a solid conviction. Fantomas had worn the
garment, and had carried the diamond in the pocket of the waistcoat he
found in the Marquis de Serac's apartment. Hence the Marquis de Serac
was Fantomas.