clear.... The net begins to tighten.... I shall find means to slip
through it!... I am not of those who are caught like a mouse in a
trap.... But, as for you--you with your simplicity--it is high time to
put you out of reach of the police!... I am going to give you some
money. Five days hence, disguised as a gipsy, you are to be on the
road from Sceaux to Versailles, at eleven o'clock at night, by the
first milestone on the left side after the aeroplane garage.... You
have followed me?"
Bobinette was trembling.
"Disguised as a gipsy, Vagualame? Why?"
"That is no concern of yours!... You have only to do as I tell you. I
give orders, but not explanations!"
Vagualame felt in his pockets. He held out a note-book.
"You will find two fifty-franc notes in this. It is more than you need
for a suitable disguise. I will give you more money when you start
off, because I am going to send you to a foreign country."
Whilst talking, Vagualame and Bobinette had gone a long way from _The
Crying Calf_. By a labyrinth of little streets, all darkness and
mystery, Vagualame had led his companion to a kind of blind alley: a
tall house blocked the end of it. A large shop on the ground floor
occupied half the front of it. Although the iron shutters had been
drawn down, light from the interior penetrated through apertures to
the street--thin rays of light.
Vagualame laid a brutal hand on Bobinette.
"Attend to what I say: it is no joking matter. You are coming in with
me. I am going to introduce you to my many friends here, whom I have
recently got to know: they may say things that will astonish you, but
do not show surprise.... I bring you here that you may know where to
find me during the five days you remain in Paris.... You have only to
write a letter and bring it to the woman who keeps this library.
Address to Vagualame: it will reach me."
"Yes," replied Bobinette.
Vagualame knocked three separate times, then twice quickly, on the
iron shutters. A key turned in the lock: the door opened. Vagualame
thrust Bobinette across the threshold. Out of the obscurity of the
streets whipped by an icy wind and torrents of rain, Bobinette found
herself in a brilliantly lighted book-shop.
She stood dazzled.
A young woman came forward.
"Good evening, Sophie," said Vagualame: "Anything new?"
"Nothing new, Vagualame!"
Bobinette looked about her. She saw piles of books and collections of
magazines and papers. The shop was crowded with them.
"Sophie, I bring a new friend--a sure friend--who may have to bring
you a letter for me one of these days," said Vagualame.
The proprietress looked curiously at Bobinette. All she said was:
"Have our brothers been warned, Vagualame?"
"They have not been told yet; but I shall present my friend to them at
the first opportunity."
There was loud knocking at the shutters! Voices were heard shouting:
"Open! Open! Open! The police!"
Bobinette grew ashen with terror.
"It is all up!" thought the desperate girl: "They will see Vagualame
is free! They will find me with him! We are caught!"
She turned frantically to Vagualame. He stood calm and collected.
"Ah!" said he with a touch of raillery, looking at the proprietress:
"They have been warned that you are again breaking the work law!"
Shaking a threatening finger at the rigid Sophie, Vagualame went to
the shop entrance. He looked through the large keyhole to see who was
demanding admittance at this late hour.... A look, and Vagualame
turned, caught Sophie by the arm, and whispered:
"Detective Juve!... Inspector Michel!... Keep cool, Sophie! They
cannot know all the ins and outs of your place."
Two strides and Vagualame joined Bobinette. He dragged her to the end
of the shop, reached a corner, turned it, and they were standing on
boards clear of books: it was hidden from the main part of the shop
and from the entrance.
"Draw your skirts between your legs!" he commanded. "Don't utter a
sound!... Don't be afraid!"
* * * * *
Vagualame was right. The police had surrounded the mysterious shop.
Noiselessly, gliding past the houses like shadows, revolver in hand,
dark lantern at waist, fifteen detectives in plain clothes had
converged on the tall house in the blind alley.
Juve was speaking low.
"Careful, Michel! We have seen our birds enter. They are inside.... I
shall follow them!... Meanwhile, do not stir from this door.... There
is no other issue.... Do not allow a soul to pass--not one!"
"Never fear, Juve!"
Information dropped by Corporal Vinson, who had been taken to _The
Crying Calf_ by Vagualame, more than once had caused Juve to keep a
strict watch on the wine-shop for some days. He had seen first
Bobinette and then Vagualame enter the place.... When Bobinette came
out, almost immediately, he felt sure she had not had time for a talk
with Vagualame.... When Vagualame soon followed, Juve had shadowed the
old accordion player in the darkness: behind him followed his men on
the trail of both.
When he saw Vagualame and Bobinette enter the library he exclaimed, in
thought:
"I have them!... I know the house! I am going to arrest Fantomas and
his accomplice!"
Cool as a cucumber now that the decisive, ardently-longed-for moment
was at hand, Juve repeated his instructions: he did not mean to leave
anything to chance.
"You understand then, Michel, not one single person is to leave these
premises. Even I can only be permitted to pass when I say to you: 'It
is I, Juve, ... Let me pass!' You thoroughly understand?"
"Perfectly," replied Michel.
Juve turned to his four picked men:
"Gentlemen! Are you ready?"
Revolver in one hand, lantern in the other, Juve knocked loudly on the
shuttered shop door.
"In the name of the law! Open! Open! Open!... The police!"
A bare three minutes had elapsed between Juve's first summons and the
opening of the library door.
Vagualame had made profitable use of the three minutes.
"Don't utter a sound! Don't be afraid!" Vagualame had repeated to
Bobinette: "They will not take us this time!"
Hustled, dragged to the spot already described, Bobinette now felt the
ground giving way beneath her. She rolled on to a steeply inclined
plane. Gliding down into the void, clutching Vagualame, she heard a
dull sound: it was the trap falling to.
"Quiet!" repeated Vagualame, as Bobinette rolled on to the wood
flooring of a sort of cellar piled high with books. He signed to the
girl to listen.
"Yes! They are searching the shop, knocking the books about, imagining
we are hidden among them!... But, from what I know of Juve, in a very
short time he will have ferreted out the trap door and will descend as
we have done. He will never be such a fool as to think we have gone
down the shop stairs."
"Oh!" groaned Bobinette: "Whatever shall we do?"
Vagualame calmly turned on his pocket electric torch, approached an
immense pile of illustrated magazines stacked in a corner. He struck
three blows on it, saying in a low clear voice:
"Open! Open to brothers!"
Bobinette, frightened past speech, saw the immense pile of volumes
oscillate, then noiselessly divide, disclosing a secret door.
Vagualame pulled her towards it, saying in a joking tone:
"You see how useful it is to have friends of all sorts! Your employer,
Olga Damitroff, was well advised when she once told me when and where
the Nihilists gather together in Paris to plot against the Czar!"
Vagualame brought her into a large room, lit by torches, where a score
of young men were assembled. They rose and reverently saluted
Vagualame, who approached them with outstretched hand.
When Juve entered, he soon satisfied himself that only Sophie remained
in the library. He gave orders to keep strict guard over the
proprietress, notwithstanding her loud protestations.
"Do not permit anyone to leave the premises," he repeated to the men
stationed at the door--"except myself, of course."
He turned to others.
"Move all these volumes! There may be a hide-hole concealed behind
them.... Keep guard at the top of the little staircase. It is the only
way of escape ... I am going to make a tour of the cellars and expect
to run my game to earth by this staircase."...
Sophie again protested.
"There is nothing in my cellars that ought not to be there! I don't
understand what the police want here!"
Juve paid no attention to these protestations. He went towards the
corner at the farther end of the shop.
Juve knew all the dens in Paris; there was not a secret society he did
not know of--societies, political and otherwise, holding mysterious
meetings in these places: he knew of the existence of this trap-door
and slide which led to the cellars below this library.
"We will go down to the Nihilists," said he.
Before the interested eyes of his subordinates, Juve set the trap in
motion. A counter weight closed it over his head.
Juve rolled into the cellar but a few seconds after Vagualame and
Bobinette had escaped from it!... To tell the truth, Juve did not know
of the hidden entrance to the secret room. Dizzy from his rapid glide
downwards, Juve raised his lantern. He was not surprised to find this
retreat empty. He knew the slide led to second and lower series of
cellars....
His eye caught a movement. The huge stack of magazines, looking as if
it would topple over, so much on the slant was it, was slowly moving
into an upright position again! He leaped forward, thrusting his
revolver between the opening of the two portions, and prevented them
from joining completely!...
What was going on behind this tricky collection of magazines, which
had undoubtedly just opened to give passage to Vagualame and
Bobinette?
Juve glued his ear to the fissure which marked the edge of the hidden
door.... Ah!... Voices of men in discussion!... Juve could not
distinguish all that the voices were saying, but a word reached his
ear, clear, unmistakable--_Fantomas_!
He listened intently.
"You are right," remarked an invisible speaker: "It is to Fantomas we
owe all these police visits and annoyances--his crimes exasperate the
police--and to justify themselves in the opinion of the public they
track us down more vigorously than ever!"
Another voice answered:
"I know for certain that these coppers are after Fantomas to-night!"
Shouts and hoots resounded.
Menacing voices repeated:
"Since Fantomas is indirectly our persecutor, let us avenge ourselves
on Fantomas!... What matters one life compared with the cause we
defend--the cause of a whole people!... If Fantomas is in our way,
troubles us, let us kill him!... Trokoff will be here to-morrow, this
evening perhaps! Trokoff will guide us! Trokoff will find this
mysterious bandit who does us so much harm! Trokoff is a valiant
man!... We do not know him, but we know what he has done!"
Juve smiled a sardonic smile. He thrust his hand into the opening
wedged apart by his revolver, widened the space, opened the secret
door, and entered the assembly room of the Nihilists.
"God save Russia!"
Juve pronounced these words with unction, in a solemn voice.
"God save Poland," was the reply. The oldest man present, who had thus
been spokesman for the assembly advanced towards the stranger.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
Without the quiver of an eyelid, an eyelash, Juve answered: "I am he
whom you have awaited.... He who will direct your arms--guide you! I
am Trokoff!"
"Let but one of these inspired fanatics, who hold life cheap, guess
that I belong to the police, and they would kill me without mercy or
pity," thought Juve, as he faced the assembly of revolutionaries with
a serene countenance.
There were no threatening looks. They believed themselves to be in the
presence of Trokoff. Had he not opened the door?... Only Trokoff, the
expected, the longed for, could have done that!
The assembly acclaimed him:
"Trokoff! We for Russia welcome you! God be with you, Trokoff! Heaven
guard you!"
"God be with you, brothers!"
Juve advanced, scrutinising each in turn: neither Vagualame nor
Bobinette were among them.
Juve addressed them:
"My brothers! You know that the police are now searching the shop
overhead: it is a serious moment!"
One of the Nihilists stepped forward.
"We know it, Trokoff! Our brother, Vagualame, accompanied by a young
disciple, came to warn us but a minute ago. Be assured, brother! The
police are not searching for us this evening.... It is the vile wretch
Fantomas they are after!... A criminal ruffian, foe of all liberty,
whom we have condemned to death.... Therefore we are not disquieted.
Vagualame has just left us.... He will direct the suspicions of the
police into another channel. He told us he knew a way of quieting
their suspicions."...
"If only Michel does not allow this arch-bandit to slip through his
fingers!" reflected Juve, as he listened with unmoved countenance to
these remarkable statements. Before the Nihilist could say more, Juve
made a declaration:
"Vagualame deceives himself, brother. I must go up at once to give him
the aid of my strong arm, otherwise we are finished!... I know only
the secret entrance here: guide me to the other exit, so that I may
not attract the attention of the police: we do not want our secret
entrance discovered!"
"It shall be as you desire, brother. Follow me; but be prudent."
Marching at the Nihilist's heels, after many twists and turns, Juve
arrived at the foot of a quite ordinary staircase.
"You have only to mount, brother Trokoff. These stairs lead straight
into the shop. If the police ask where you come from, you have only to
say that you were looking in the first cellar for a book!... But what
matters it if they do visit the cellars! They will never find the
hidden door!"
Juve bent his head.
"Thanks, brother! Peace be with you!"
The Nihilist turned away. No sooner was he out of sight than Juve tore
up the stairs to complete the arrest of Vagualame and Bobinette!
Inspector Michel had not stirred from his appointed place by the door
leading to the street.
He had been on guard about half an hour when Juve, livid, frantic,
rushed towards him.
"You have let them go out, Michel!" he shouted: "They are not here!"
"No one has gone out at this door, Chief! I give you my word on it!...
But, may I ask how you managed to slip back again without my having
noticed you! Deuced clever, I call it!... No one, I say, has left
these premises either before or after you!"
"What's that you say?" Juve stared at Michel as if he had taken leave
of his senses.
"What I say, Chief, is--the only individuals whom I have allowed to
pass out are you and your woman prisoner."
"I and my woman prisoner?" Juve could have howled with rage. He caught
the calm, collected Michel by the coat collar, and dragged him outside
the shop. Juve looked so desperate, so at his wit's end, that Michel
wondered.
"Come now, Chief!" he remonstrated; "I am not dreaming, am I?... Ten
minutes ago you came to me here, and you said:
"'Don't move, Michel! Let me pass. I am Juve! I take a prisoner to the
station and will return.'"
Juve had grown deadly calm.
"I was disguised, Michel, was I not?"
"Yes. You had put on your Vagualame disguise."
Juve bit his lip till the blood came. That arch-bandit had done him
again! Juve could not but admire his coolness and resource. He had
known how to take in Michel, because Michel had arrested Juve when
disguised as Vagualame at de Naarboveck's house.... Michel would
naturally think his chief had again assumed the Vagualame disguise for
a purpose! Oh, it was the devil's own cleverness!
Juve glared at Michel.
"It was the real Vagualame, I tell you!" shouted Juve.... "It was not
I disguised as Vagualame!... It was Vagualame in person, I tell
you!... It is Vagualame himself whom you have allowed to escape!"
There was a pause--terrible, heart-sickening.
Michel drew himself up.
"What then, Chief?"
Juve's anger gave place to compassion.
"It is really not your fault, my poor Michel. How could you imagine
the infernal trick this bandit was playing on you?... I bear you no
grudge for it, Michel!"
But Michel was inconsolable. He had committed an irreparable blunder!
Juve slipped his arm through that of his miserable subordinate. The
pair made their way to Headquarters at the head of the little column
of subordinates who, understanding that Juve had not found what he
sought, were cursing inwardly at the failure of their expedition....
The moment Juve realised that Michel had allowed Vagualame-Fantomas to
escape, he had called off his men. He did not wish the Russian
revolutionaries cornered and arrested at present.... Possibly
Vagualame believed Juve and his men had come to find the Nihilists,
and, having failed, had left the premises in a rage!
Sophie would report to the bandit--but she had not heard everything!
Thought Juve:
"He will hardly guess that I entered the assembly below by the secret
door and made them believe I was Trokoff!... It leaves a way open for
future transactions!... Some day, not so far ahead, I may return, may
find that devil's Will o' the Wisp of a bandit there and nab him at
last!"... Did Michel suspect there were Nihilists on the premises?
"Tell me," questioned Juve: "Did you overhear any suspicious talk?...
This Sophie did not say anything interesting?"
"Nothing whatever, Chief."
"Your men, Michel, do not know what individual we are after?"
Michel laughed.
"Oh, they are a hundred leagues off the truth!... That they were out
to arrest Fantomas!... Just imagine, Chief! This afternoon, a
complaint was lodged at Headquarters with reference to the theft of a
bear! The theft was committed at Troyes, at the fair.... Our men are
persuaded that to-night's search has to do with this bear-stealing
case!... All the more so because, just as we started on this
expedition, one of my men, whose home is at Sceaux, told us that his
brother, a driver down there, had been ordered to go in five days'
time, with two horses, and at five in the morning, on the road to
Robinson, and take a gipsy van twenty kilometres from there!... He
thought there was something very queer about such a rendezvous as
that!"
Juve's interest in this piece of news was keen!
XXX
APPALLING ACCUSATIONS
"But, Commandant, you cannot possibly maintain that I am not Jerome
Fandor, journalist!"
The interview between Commandant Dumoulin and Fandor had already
lasted an hour. It was unlike that which had taken place six days
before, when Dumoulin had dealt summarily with the Fandor-Vinson case.
Since then Fandor had occupied cell 27, and had had no communication
with the outside world. Fandor had raged furiously against things in
general, against Dumoulin in particular, and against himself most of
all. He acknowledged that Juve had done his utmost to extricate him
from the tangled web he had involved himself in as Fandor-Vinson.
Each day brought him one distraction which he would willingly have
foregone: he passed long exhausting hours in Commandant Dumoulin's
office. He found the commandant detestable. Dumoulin was hot-blooded,
noisy, unmethodical, always in a state of fuss and fume! He would
begin his interrogations calmly, would weigh his words, would be
logical, but little by little, his real nature--a tempestuous
one--would get the upper hand.
For the twentieth time Fandor had insisted on his identity, and
Dumoulin, tapping the case papers with an agitated hand, had replied:
"I recognise that you are Jerome Fandor, exercising the profession of
a journalist--since it seems journalism is a profession! But that is
not the question; the problem I have to elucidate! I have to ascertain
when, and at what exact moment, one Jerome Fandor took the personality
of Corporal Vinson!"...
"I have already told you, Commandant!... Please read my deposition of
the day before yesterday. I will recapitulate:
"Sunday, November 13th, at five o'clock in the evening, at my
domicile, rue Richer, I received the visit of a soldier whom I did not
know. He stated that he was called Corporal Vinson, and informed me
that he had become part and parcel of the spy system; that he
regretted it, and, not being able to extricate himself, he was going
to commit suicide.... Desiring to give this unfortunate a chance of
rehabilitating himself, desiring also to come to close quarters with
this gang of spies, I decided to assume his personality, and take
advantage of his entrance into a regiment where he was not known, and
to go there in his place. It was in these conditions that I left eight
days after, on Sunday, November 20th, for Verdun."
"You maintain that you did not assume the personality of Vinson before
that date?"
"I do maintain that, Commandant."
"But that is the pivot of the whole business, and the important point
yet to be proved!"
"That is not difficult," declared Fandor: "I have alibis who will
support my statement."
The commandant raised his arms to heaven.
"Alibis! Alibis!... What do they prove, after all?"
"The truth, Commandant.... When I am in Paris it is evident I am not
in Chalons or Verdun."
Dumoulin was evidently trying to find an argument to meet the
accused's logic.
"Peuh!" declared he: "With fellows like you, who are perpetually
disguising themselves, changing their faces as I change my collars,
one never knows."... Suddenly Dumoulin's face lighted up.
"Tuesday, November 29th, you were in the shoes of Vinson--is that so?"
"Yes, Commandant."
"Very well. This same Tuesday, November 29th, you were at the Elysee
ball as Jerome Fandor! So you see!"
Dumoulin was triumphant.
"I had twenty-four hours' leave, Commandant--quite regular!" protested
Fandor.
"Ah!" growled the commandant, glancing knowingly at Lieutenant Servin,
who with impassive countenance was listening to this discussion:
"Don't talk to me about leave!... Heaven alone knows how easily you
spies succeed in obtaining leave!"
Fandor was about to protest vehemently against being numbered with the
spies, when the commandant started another subject.
"Added to this, there is something very serious in your case."
"Good Heavens! What now?" ejaculated Fandor.
Dumoulin looked mysterious.
"We will speak of it later on.... The next step is to confront you
with certain witnesses: Lieutenant Servin, see if the witnesses are
there!"
Fandor himself had demanded this confrontation. He did not deny having
assumed the personality of Corporal Vinson, dating from the day when
the corporal entered officially on his duties as a unit of the 257th
of the line, in garrison at Verdun. But the enquiry wished to
establish that, anterior to this, Fandor had already taken the place
of the real Vinson: the military authorities seemed to attach immense
importance to this point. Fandor had then decided that the simplest
way was to be brought face to face with soldiers who had known Vinson
at Chalons: they would state that the Vinson presented to them in the
person of Fandor was not the Vinson they had known.
Thereupon Dumoulin had sent for two men who, as orderlies at Chalons,
had lived side by side with Vinson.
There was a momentous silence while Lieutenant Servin went to the end
of the corridor and signed to the two waiting witnesses to come
forward. The two men entered the commandant's office, facing Dumoulin
in true military style.
Dumoulin, reading out the names of the two witnesses from a paper,
started his interrogation with a haughty air.
"Hiloire?"
"Present, Commandant."
"What is your name?"
The soldier opened his eyes wide, and thinking he had to give his
Christian name, stammered:
"Justinien!"
"What?" growled the commandant: "You are not called Hiloire?"
The bewildered man attempted some confused explanations, from which it
could be gathered that Hiloire was his surname and Justinien his
baptismal name!
"Good!" declared the commandant, who proceeded to question the second
soldier as to his identity! When it was made clear that he was one
Tarbottin, baptismal name Niccodeme, the commandant questioned them
together.
"You are soldiers of the second class in the 213th of the line, and
fulfil the functions of staff orderlies?"
"Yes, Commandant."
"You know Corporal Vinson?"
"Yes, Commandant."
Dumoulin pointed to Fandor.
"Is he Corporal Vinson?"
"Yes, Commandant," repeated the two soldiers.
Lieutenant Servin intervened. He pointed out to his chief that the
witnesses had replied in the affirmative without turning to look at
the supposed corporal.
The commandant cried angrily:
"What kind of imbeciles are you? Before saying that you recognise a
person you must begin by looking at that person! Look at the
corporal!"
The two soldiers obeyed: they turned with precision and stared at
Fandor.
"Is that man Corporal Vinson?"
"Yes, Commandant."
"You are sure of that?"
"No, Commandant."