in the room, men were rushing in all directions, fussing, jostling one
another, coming, going, demanding of all the echoes in that huge
white-washed barn of a barrack-room dormitory:
"Where is the palliasse of Corporal Vinson!"
"Find me the bolster of Corporal Vinson!"
XIII
JUVE'S STRATAGEM
Whilst Jerome Fandor was commencing his apprenticeship as a soldier at
the Saint Benoit barracks, Verdun, a sordid individual was following
an elegant pedestrian who, descending the rue Solferino, went in the
direction of the Seine. It was about seven in the evening.
"Pstt!"
This sound issued from the ragged individual, but the passer-by did
not turn his head.
"Monsieur!" insisted the sordid one.
As the elegant pedestrian did not seem to know he was being followed,
the sordid individual stepped to his side, and murmured in his white
beard distinctly enough to be heard:
"Lieutenant! Do listen!... Look here, Monsieur de Loubersac ...
Henri!"
The young man turned: he gave the importunate speaker a withering
stare: he was furious.
The speaker was Vagualame.
"I shall fine you five hundred francs! How dare you accost me like
this? Are you mad?" De Loubersac's voice shook with rage.
Lieutenant de Loubersac had just quitted the Second Bureau after an
unusually hard day's work. Fatigued by the over-heated offices, he was
enjoying the fresh air and exercise in spite of the chilling mist
overhanging Paris. When his thoughts were not connected on his work,
he would dwell tenderly on every little detail of his meetings with
pretty Mademoiselle de Naarboveck. Had she not given him permission to
call her Wilhelmine, and did he not cherish the hope of soon making
her his wife?
But this Vagualame was insupportable! That he should dare to accost
him without observing the customary precautions--hail him by his
style and title in a most public thoroughfare---should so imprudently
compromise himself and an attache of the Second Bureau! Well, he knew
how to attack informers and such gentry in their most vulnerable
spot--their purse; hence the fine of five hundred francs he had
imposed on Vagualame!
The old fellow shuffled along beside the enraged lieutenant, whining,
complaining of the precarious state of his finances, but de Loubersac
was adamant. Perceiving this, Vagualame desisted.
"I want to talk to you," said he.
"To-morrow!" suggested de Loubersac.
"No, at once. It is urgent."
De Loubersac could hardly hear what Vagualame said. Twice he cried, in
an irritated voice:
"What is the matter with you? I cannot understand what you say. I can
hardly hear you."
"I have a severe cold on the chest, lieutenant."
Certainly Vagualame's voice was remarkably hoarse.
"If the Government does not give me something regular to live on, I
shall die in hospital."
De Loubersac looked about him anxiously. If his colonel should catch
sight of him conferring with an agent so near the headquarters of the
Second Bureau he would incur a sharp reprimand. The interview must
take place; therefore they must conceal themselves. Vagualame, as
though reading the lieutenant's thought, pointed to the steep flight
of steps leading to the banks of the Seine.
"Let us go down by the river! We shall be undisturbed there!"
De Loubersac acquiesced. So the smart young officer and the old beggar
in his ragged coat, with the accordion hanging over his shoulder, who
might have been mistaken for Quasimodo himself, descended the steps in
company. Vagualame's eyes gleamed with joy. They were piercing eyes,
full of life and intelligence, not the fierce furtive eyes of
Vagualame, for this Vagualame was Juve!
The day following the famous evening he had passed in Fandor's flat,
Juve, as we know, had discovered that Vagualame, agent of the Second
Bureau, was cleverly disguised, and was none other than Fantomas!
Juve appropriated the accordion left by the fleeing bandit: Juve also
decided to personate Vagualame and spy on the various persons who had
relations with this sinister being. As far as Juve was concerned,
Vagualame-Fantomas was done for, therefore it was highly improbable
that the criminal, daring to the last degree though he was, would show
himself in his Vagualame guise for some time to come. Therefore Juve
must act at once. His first move must be to meet and talk with the
Second Bureau officer most in touch with Vagualame, and make him talk
without arousing his suspicions. Juve also meant to mix with
Vagualame's associates, trusting to luck and his own perspicacity to
get on to various trails, trails that would lead him to the solution
of grave problems.
Juve had felt anxious as he accosted de Loubersac: no doubt the
lieutenant and his secret agent had some set form of greeting, some
agreed on method of imparting information. By incurring the fine, Juve
realised that he had made a wrong start--perhaps omitted a password.
Still, he had obtained the essential thing--a private talk with this
particular official of the Second Bureau.
The talk began with an abrupt question from de Loubersac:
"And the V. affair?"
"The V. affair?... Peuh!"
"What the deuce does he refer to?" Juve was asking himself.
Unsuspecting, de Loubersac came to his aid.
"Our corporal must have returned to Verdun to-day?"
"Ah!" thought Juve, "our corporal is Vinson!" The further he proceeded
in his present investigations the clearer grew the connection between
the Brocq affair and those of Bobinette, Wilhelmine, de Loubersac:
surely they were all interpreters of the tragic drama conceived by
Vagualame-Fantomas!
"His leave expired this morning," continued de Loubersac.
"He left yesterday evening. I have proof of it," asserted
Juve-Vagualame.
"Anything new?"
"Not so far."
"Are you going to Verdun?"
"Possibly."
"How about the document?"
"Hum!" murmured Juve-Vagualame. Here was another conundrum he must go
warily.
"You are constantly looking for it, of course? You know it is the most
urgent of all!"...
Juve nodded agreement.
"Place it in my hands, and I shall give you fifty thousand francs in
exchange for it--you know that!"
"Less the fine," put in Juve-Vagualame with a comical grimace.
De Loubersac smiled.
"We will speak of that again." There was a pause.
"A good deal has happened since the death of Captain Brocq's
mistress."
Juve-Vagualame remarked.
"Is Captain Brocq's mistress dead, too?... Poor girl!"
De Loubersac stared hard at the accordion player.
"Oh come now, Vagualame! Where are your wits--wool-gathering?"
"Wits wool-gathering, lieutenant!" echoed Juve-Vagualame.
"There is no lieutenant, I tell you!" cried de Loubersac, with a stamp
of his foot. "It is Monsieur Henri--just Henri, if you like. How many
more times am I to tell you this?"
Juve-Vagualame's reply was an equivocal gesture.
"You do not know about the Chalons affair--the assassination of the
singer, Nichoune?"
"No--that is to say."...
"Well, then?" De Loubersac was staring at Vagualame with puzzled eyes.
"Well, then--as to that--no!... I had better hold my tongue."
"Speak out!" commanded de Loubersac.
"No," growled Juve-Vagualame.
"I order you to do so."
"Well, then," conceded Juve-Vagualame, "since you must know what I
think, I consider Nichoune was in no sense the mistress of Captain
Brocq."
"They found letters from Captain Brocq on her." De Loubersac's laugh
had a sneer in it.
"Bah!" said the old accordion player, punctuating his remark with some
piercing sounds from his ancient instrument of discordant music. "It
was a got-up business!"
"What is that you say?" objected de Loubersac. After a moment's
reflection he added:
"But of course, you must know more about it than anyone, Vagualame,
because you saw her just before the end. Didn't you have a talk with
Nichoune on the Friday, the eve of her death?"
Juve-Vagualame was about to speak. De Loubersac added:
"The innkeeper saw you!"
"Did he now? What is this?" thought Juve. This statement opened up a
fresh view of things.
De Loubersac did not give him time for reflection.
"Who, then, do you think killed Nichoune?"
Juve would not for the world voice his suspicions just then. With a
side-glance at the lieutenant, he remarked:
"Faith, what I am inclined to think is, that the guilty person is that
Aunt Palmyra."
"Aunt Palmyra!" repeated de Loubersac. "Decidedly my poor Vagualame,
you are stupid as an owl to-day! Well, there is no harm in telling you
this--Aunt Palmyra was one of my colleagues!"
"I suspected as much," thought Juve, "but I wanted him to confirm it."
De Loubersac was again the questioner.
"Vagualame! You spoke just now of Brocq's mistress: if, as you seem to
think, Nichoune had no such relation with the captain, where are we to
look for his mistress?"
"Hah!... Look in another direction ... among his friends ... in the
great world ... the diplomatic set, for preference ... Think of those
in the de Naarboveck circle."...
"Look out, Vagualame!" exclaimed de Loubersac. "Weigh your words
well!"
"Do not be afraid, lieu ... pardon--Monsieur Henri!"
"Perhaps you think it is Bobinette?" queried de Loubersac.
"No."
"Who then?"
Juve shot his answer at the lieutenant, like a stone from a catapult.
"Wilhelmine de Naarboveck!"
A shout of indignant protest burst from de Loubersac. He could not
contain his fury: he kicked the supposed Vagualame with such force
that he sent him rolling in the greasy mud of the Seine bank.
"Beast!" growled Juve, as he picked himself up. "If I were not
Vagualame, I should know how to answer him," he muttered. "As it
is!"...
Juve rose, stumbling and staggering like a badly shaken old man, and
leaned against the hand railing of the steps.
Meanwhile de Loubersac was walking up and down, talking aloud, in a
state of extreme agitation.
"Disgusting creatures!... Low-minded wretches!... Degrading
occupation!... They respect nothing, and no one!... Insinuating such
abominations!... Wilhelmine de Naarboveck the mistress of Brocq!...
How vile!... Loathsome creatures!"
It was now obvious to the alert Juve, who drank in every word, each
gesture of de Loubersac's that the enraged lieutenant adored
Wilhelmine ... no doubt on that score!
When de Loubersac had calmed down somewhat, Juve cried softly:
"Oh, Monsieur Henri!"...
Roused from his reflections, de Loubersac shouted:
"Hold your tongue, you sicken me!"
"But," insisted Juve-Vagualame, "I have only done my duty. If I spoke
as I did, it was because my conscience."...
"Have you got consciences--your sort?" cried de Loubersac, casting a
glance of withering contempt at the supposed old man.
There was a silence. Then de Loubersac walked up to the old accordion
player and asked anxiously:
"Can you give me proofs of the truth of what you have just asserted?"
"Perhaps," was the evasive answer.
"You will have to give me proofs," insisted de Loubersac.
"Proofs?... I have none," replied the mysterious old fellow. "But I
have intuitions; better still, my confidence is grounded on a strong
probability."
This statement came to de Loubersac with the force of a stunning blow:
it came from one whom he considered his best agent: he knew Vagualame
always weighed his words: his information was generally correct.
"We cannot continue this conversation here," he said. "To-morrow we
must meet as usual--and remember--do not attempt to accost me without
using the password."
"Now, how the deuce am I to know what this famous word is?" Juve asked
himself. Then he had an inspiration.
"We must not use it again," he announced. "I have reason to think our
customary password is known ... I will explain another time ... it is
a regular story--a long one."
"All right," agreed de Loubersac. "What should it be?... Suppose I say
_monoplane_?"
"I will answer _dirigible_," said Juve-Vagualame.
"Agreed."
De Loubersac rapidly mounted the steps leading to the quay, glad to
close a detestable interview.
Juve-Vagualame remained below. He struck his forehead.
"Monsieur Henri!" he called.
"What?"
"The meeting place to-morrow?"
De Loubersac had just signalled to a taxi: he leaned over the parapet
and called to Juve-Vagualame, who had got no farther than the middle
of the steps:
"Why at half past three, in the garden, as usual!"
* * * * *
"Oh, ho!" said the old accordion player. "He will be furious! I shall
play him false--bound to--for how can I keep the appointment--confound
it! What garden? Whereabouts in it?" Then, as he regained the quay,
Juve laughed in his false white beard.
"What do I care? I snap my fingers at that rendezvous. I have
extracted from him what I wanted to know--it matters not a jot if I
never set eyes on him again! And ... now ... it is we two,
Bobinette!"
XIV
BEFORE A TOMB
"This is a surprise!"
Mademoiselle de Naarboveck stopped. She smiled up at Henri de
Loubersac.
"Do you know, I saw in this glass that you were following us," she
said, pointing to a mirror placed at an angle in a confectioner's shop
at the corner of rue Biot.
These artless remarks put the handsome lieutenant out of countenance:
he blushed hotly, but he pressed the little hand held out to him so
simply, and with such a look of frank pleasure. He stammered some
excuse for not having recognised her. He bowed pleasantly to
Wilhelmine's companion, Mademoiselle Berthe.
Wilhelmine turned to her.
"This meeting was not prearranged: it is one of pure chance." The tone
was defensive without a touch of the apologetic.
Mademoiselle Berthe smiled, and declared that she had not for a moment
supposed that the meeting had been prearranged.
De Loubersac gazed considerably at the two girls. Wilhelmine was
looking particularly pretty. Beneath her fur toque shone masses of her
pale gold hair, framing a charming little face. A long velvet coat
with ermine stole suggested the youthful contours of her slender
figure. Mademoiselle Berthe wore rough blue cloth, and a large hat
trimmed with wings, which set off her piquant face with its irregular
features and ruddy locks.
Wilhelmine and Henri de Loubersac strolled on together in the
direction of the Hippodrome. Mutual protestations of love were,
exchanged. Presently Wilhelmine asked:
"But what brought you in this direction?"
"Oh, I was going ... to pay a visit ... it is a piece of very good
luck my coming across you like this."
De Loubersac seemed to have something on his mind. Despite his
protestations he did not look as if he were enjoying this chance
meeting.
"Where were you bound for, Wilhelmine?" he asked.
She looked up at her lover with sad eyes. Pointing in the direction of
the cemetery of Montemartre, she replied in a low tone:
"I am going to visit the dear dead."
"Would you allow me to accompany you?" begged de Loubersac.
Wilhelmine shook her head.
"I must ask you to allow me to go there alone. It is my custom to pray
there without witnesses."
De Loubersac turned towards Mademoiselle Berthe with a questioning
look--a gesture of interrogation.
Wilhelmine replied to it:
"As a rule I go to the cemetery alone. You see me with my companion
to-day because my father wished it. Since the sad affair which has
thrown a shadow over our life, he is in a constant state of anxiety
about my safety: he does not wish me to go about unaccompanied. I
shall be waited for at the cemetery."
Wilhelmine's candid eyes gazed at de Loubersac, who was gnawing his
moustache with a preoccupied air.
"What is the matter, Henri?" she asked.
De Loubersac came closer to Wilhelmine, grew red as fire, and without
daring to look her in the face, burst out:
"Listen, Wilhelmine! I would rather tell you everything.... Oh, you are
going to think badly of me.... The truth is--our meeting is not
accidental ... it is of set purpose on my part.... For the last two days
I have been worried--preoccupied--jealous.... I am afraid of not being
loved by you as I love you ... afraid that there is ... or was ...
something between us--dividing us--someone."...
Wilhelmine looked at her lover with the eyes of an astonished child.
"I do not understand you," she murmured.
Mastering his emotion, de Loubersac decided to make a clean breast of
it.
"I will be frank, Wilhelmine.... Your last words have increased my
torture.... Have you not spoken of _your_ dear dead, and must I learn
that you are perhaps going to pray ... at the tomb of Captain Brocq?"
More and more astonished, Wilhelmine replied:
"And suppose I were going to do so? Should I be doing wrong to pray
for the repose of the soul of the unfortunate Captain Brocq, who was
one of my best friends?"
"Ah!" cried Henri de Loubersac: "Is it love you feel for him, then?"
He looked so despairing that Wilhelmine, offended, hurt though she was
by her lover's suspicions, pitied his anguish and reassured him:
"If you had been following me for some time past, you would have seen
that I have been in the habit of going to this cemetery--have gone
there regularly long before Captain Brocq's death--consequently."...
Wilhelmine, with a look of sorrowful disappointment, closed her lips:
she was resolutely mute.
Henri de Loubersac brightened up, thanked her with a frankness so
spontaneous, so sincere, that it would have touched the hardest
woman's heart, and Wilhelmine's was a supremely tender and sensitive
one. Yet, when he again asked for whom she was going to pray, for whom
was the delicious bouquet of violets she was carrying, half hidden in
her muff, she murmured:
"That is my secret.... If I told you the name of the person at whose
tomb I am going to pray, it would have no significance for you."
"Wilhelmine! Let me accompany you!" implored de Loubersac.... "I love
you so much--you must forgive my blundering!"
The lovers discussed the question: finally, Wilhelmine's hesitations
were overcome: de Loubersac carried the day triumphantly.
Mademoiselle Berthe had fallen behind: she had kept a discreet
distance between the lovers and herself, but had watched them with the
eyes of a lynx. Now Wilhelmine waited for her to come up with them;
then she requested her companion to stay in the quiet avenue Rachel
while she and Lieutenant de Loubersac went into the cemetery.
* * * * *
No sooner had they disappeared than Bobinette set off as fast as she
could go in the direction of the boulevard de Clichy. Yes, there was
the sordid figure of Old Vagualame, bent under the weight of years and
of his ancient accordion: he seemed to be stooping more than usual.
Had he also followed them? He had. Thus Juve-Vagualame was continuing
his quest with the hope of getting further light on the series of
mysteries he was seeking to solve. He must learn more of Bobinette's
relations with Fantomas, whom she apparently knew only under the guise
of Vagualame. Juve had made himself up so carefully that he felt
confident even the bandit's intimates would not suspect they had to do
with a police officer. Its quality was soon proved: Bobinette came
towards him with not a sign of uneasiness.
"There you are, then!" she cried.
In spite of her familiar address, Juve noticed the touch of respect in
Bobinette's voice--Vagualame played the part of master to this
red-haired girl.
"What a long time it is since one had the pleasure of seeing you, my
dear Monsieur Vagualame!" There was a touch of malicious irony in
Bobinette's tone.
Juve-Vagualame nodded. He would have liked to know what Wilhelmine and
Henri were doing in the cemetery, but Bobinette was his query for the
moment. Her next remark was startling.
"It looks as though you were afraid to show yourself since your last
crime."
Juve repressed any sign of the satisfaction this declaration gave him.
"My last crime?"
"Don't play the blockhead," she went on. "Have you forgotten that you
told me how you had assassinated Captain Brocq?"
"That is ancient history," muttered Juve, "... and I am not afraid of
anyone.... Besides ... did I tell you that now?" he hinted, with the
hope of obtaining further details. But Bobinette seemed to think she
had had enough of the subject. She laughed.
"What a way of walking you have!" she exclaimed.
Juve was purposely exaggerating Vagualame's attitude: it enabled him
to conceal his face better.
"I stoop so much because my age weighs me down.... When you grow
old."...
Bobinette burst into peals of laughter.
"You don't think, do you, Vagualame, that I take you for an old man?
Ha, ha! I know you are disguised; made up admirably, I dare say, but
you are a young man.... I am quite, quite sure of it!"
Juve was saying to himself:
"This grows better and better!"
Juve's conviction was that this old Vagualame, secret agent of the
Second Bureau, murderer of Captain Brocq, the Vagualame he had
encountered at Fandor's flat, could only be a young man in the flower
of his age--could be none other than Fantomas.
Juve was about to put more questions to Bobinette, but two figures
came into view, and they were nearing the avenue Rachel.
"Make off with you!" cried Bobinette. "There they are coming back!"
Juve did not wish de Loubersac to catch a glimpse of him: he would be
surprised, suspicious, and would question him about the missed
rendezvous. Juve had not gained sufficient information, however.
"I must see you again, Bobinette." His tone was pressing, insistent.
"When?"
"This evening."
"Impossible."
"To-morrow, then."
Bobinette shook her head.
"You know very well that to-morrow I shall be gone."
"Where?"
"Where?"
The red-haired beauty cried impatiently:
"It's you ask me that?... Why ... I go to the frontier."
"Correct," said Juve. He would have welcomed further details. "Well,
then, when can we meet?" pressed this determined accordion player.
"How about next Wednesday?" suggested Bobinette.
"That will do. We will go to the theatre--a moving picture show!"
"Always to places in the dark, eh!" observed Bobinette maliciously.
Wilhelmine and Henri were coming nearer.
Juve-Vagualame turned as he was making off.
"Nine o'clock, before the moving picture place, rue des Poissonniers."
With that, Juve-Vagualame disappeared into a smoky wine shop.
De Loubersac, very pale, and Wilhelmine, whose eyes were red, rejoined
Bobinette, whose face became expressionless.
They went slowly off together.
* * * * *
When the coast was clear, Juve-Vagualame left the wine shop and
proceeded towards the cemetery. Amid the cypresses and tombs of the
necropolis, looming sad and shadowy in the fading light, he made his
way slowly along the principal path, questing for traces of the
lovers' footsteps in the sand. He was fortunate enough to come on them
at once; the soil being moist, the lovers' footmarks could be clearly
distinguished in the sand of the alleys. Guided by them, Juve turned
into a little pathway on the right, passing the mausoleums, and
pausing before a new-made grave, that of Captain Brocq, a humble tomb.
A few fresh violets were scattered around it, from Wilhelmine's bunch,
no doubt. The lovers had but tarried there. Juve continued to follow
their footmarks, by many twists and turns, almost to the end of the
cemetery. As he advanced he felt more and more certain that he had
come this way some years ago, when his detective work had led him into
a mysterious network of robberies and murders, the moving spirit of
them all being Fantomas--the enigmatic Fantomas.
Juve was going over in memory those past days of mysterious doings
and strange adventures, when he found himself facing a vault richly
decorated with unusually beautiful sculpture. A bronze plaque was
affixed to this tomb, and on it, engraved in letters of gold, was a
name Juve had had occasion to utter many a time and oft:
_Lady Beltham_
Lady Beltham!
Lady Beltham?
A name Juve associated with strange and terrible events.[3] Lady
Beltham had been a sensational creature.
[Footnote 3: See _The Exploits of Juve,_ vol. ii of the Fantomas
Series.]
After adventures, one more extraordinary than another, Juve had
succeeded in identifying this English great lady as the mistress of a
formidable criminal, relentlessly hunted down, for ever escaping--the
elusive Fantomas!