really mean?... We know that de Naarboveck is Fantomas, but you swore
to me that it is impossible to arrest Naarboveck. You still assert
this: nevertheless, you now declare that we are going to arrest
Fantomas! What the deuce do you mean?... I've had more than enough of
your ironical mockery, old man!"
Juve took out his watch and, with finger on the dial, said:
"Look! It is half past ten. We shall reach de Naarboveck's about a
quarter past eleven. It would be impossible for me to arrest him just
then; but at a quarter to twelve, midnight at latest, it will be quite
easy for me to put my hand on the collar of de Naarboveck--Fantomas! I
shall not bungle it!"
"Juve! You and your mysteries are maddening!"
"My dear Fandor, do pardon me for not being more explicit. I told you
Naarboveck was out of reach as far as arresting him goes. I also told
you that we were going to arrest Fantomas. It is exact; because all
that is subordinate to a will--a will I happen to have at my command
for the moment, but also a will which may raise some preventing
obstacle at the last moment, and so stop me from capturing the bandit
straight away, enabling the monster to brazen it out in perfect
safety."
"Whose will, Juve?"
"My lad, do not question me further! I cannot say more."
Fandor desisted: Juve's sincerity was obvious.
"All serene, Juve! I leave it to you. Whatever happens. I shall try
not to lose sight of you. I shall stick to you like a leech--if you
have need of me."
Juve held out his hands.
"Thanks, dear lad!"
With fast-beating hearts, thrilling with excitement, expectation,
anxiety, the friends embraced.
"You know, dear lad," said Juve in quiet tones: "We are going to risk
our skins?... I am sure of the final victory unless a stupid ball from
a revolver."...
Fandor was his old teasing self once more.
"Oh, that's all right! You are not going to frighten me with that old
black bogey of yours!"...
At this moment the carriage turned the corner at the end of the
Alexander bridge....
* * * * *
The Baron de Naarboveck's mansion was brilliantly illuminated. The
much-talked-of fete was at its height.
Below, the spacious hall had been turned into a magnificent
supper-room--a veritable transformation scene--while dancers thronged
the rooms above.... The end room only was deserted: it was the
library. It had been made the receptacle of an overflow of furniture
when the reception suite was cleared for dancing.
An orchestra, concealed by foliage plants, discoursed seductive
waltzes in the principal ballroom, whilst crowds of lovely women and
distinguished men listened, chatted, and looked on.
Madame Paradel, wife of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, was talking
to her host. Observing Wilhelmine, all grace and smiles, she murmured:
"What a charming girl she is!"
Turning again to de Naarboveck, she remarked:
"But you must be in the depths of desolation, dear Baron! Have I not
heard that the young couple are leaving for the centre of Africa?"
"Oh, that is an exaggeration," laughed the Baron. "As a matter of
fact, my future son-in-law, de Loubersac, is leaving the Staff Office,
and with the rank of captain. His chiefs are sending him, not, as you
think, to the wilds of Central Africa, but only to Algiers! An
excellent garrison!"
"Well, Baron, I like to think you will soon be paying a visit to your
newly married pair."
The Baron bowed, and, as Madame Paradel moved away, he went towards
the entrance of the gallery commanding a view of the hall and stairs.
The figures of two advancing guests had caught his eye.
In a tone at once enigmatic and perfectly correct, de Naarboveck
accosted them:
"You are among my guests, gentlemen."
"That is obvious, is it not?" replied one of the new-comers.... "You
may be assured, Baron, that neither my friend Fandor nor I would have
allowed ourselves the liberty otherwise."...
"I know! I know, Monsieur Juve!... Besides--I was expecting you!" An
ironic smile curved the lips of de Naarboveck.
"We should have reproached ourselves, Baron, had we not come this
evening to offer you the felicitations to which you have a right."
"Really?... No doubt you refer to the marriage of Wilhelmine?"
"No, Baron. I reserve such congratulations for Monsieur de Loubersac
and Mademoiselle Therese--pardon, for Mademoiselle Wilhelmine."
When making this deliberate mistake in the name, Juve looked squarely
at the diplomat--but de Naarboveck made no sign.
"What, then, do you refer to, Monsieur Juve?" he asked.
"I mean, my dear Baron, that I have recently heard of your new office,
heard that your credentials have just been presented, heard that they
will be ratified to-morrow.... From this evening, Baron, are you not
then the representative of the kingdom of Hesse-Weimar?... I fancy,
Monsieur the Ambassador, that you are satisfied with this nomination?"
De Naarboveck, smiling that ironical smile, bowed.
"It carries with it some advantages, certainly."
"Among them, Baron, the privilege of inviolability--ah, that famous
inviolability!"
Juve laid stress on the word _inviolability_.
De Naarboveck did not seem to understand the insinuation conveyed.
"It is quite true, Monsieur," he said in a matter-of-fact manner: "I
do enjoy the right of inviolability; it is one of the privileges
attached to my office." On a bantering note he added:
"An appreciable advantage, is it not?"
"Appreciable indeed!" was Juve's reply.
A wave of fresh arrivals surged up the grand staircase and separated
the speakers. The master of the house stepped forward to greet them,
whilst Fandor drew Juve by the sleeve into the corner of a window
recess. Speaking low, he asked:
"Juve! what is the meaning of this comedy?"
"Alas, Fandor! it is no comedy!"
"De Naarboveck is an ambassador?"
"For the kingdom of Hesse-Weimar, yes. He has been that for over a
week--since that evening we failed to arrest him in the rue Lepic."
"And he is inviolable?"
"Naturally. In conformity with international conventions, every
representative accredited to a foreign power as ambassador is an
untouchable, inviolable person--wherever he may be.... Therefore,
Fandor, when in this mansion, situated in the heart of Paris, we are
no longer legally in France, but in Hesse-Weimar. You can understand
the kind of consequences which must follow from such a state of
things.... But all is not over.... Ah! excuse me ... there is
something I must see to immediately!"...
Leaving Fandor, Juve made his way through innumerable dress-coats and
magnificent toilettes, moving with difficulty in the press.
He approached a guest stationed apart, watching all that was going on
about him. This guest, who stood unobtrusively aloof, was a
distinguished-looking man of about thirty-five; he wore a blonde
moustache turned up German fashion.
Juve bowed low before this personage, and murmured with profound
deference:
"Ah, thank you, thank you for coming, Majesty!"
"Here, Monsieur, I am incognito--the Prince Louis de Kalbach: respect
my incognito and do whatever you have to do quickly. My presence in
Paris is not suspected. As you are aware, I am fortunately not known
personally to my--to this individual."
Juve was about to assure the king that his wishes would be respected,
but someone touched him on the arm. Juve, with a respectful
inclination, turned away.
"Ah, Monsieur Juve, how delighted I am to see you!... But I was
forgetting.... Monsieur Lepine was looking for you just now!"...
Juve was facing beaming Lieutenant de Loubersac.
"I will go to him at once ... but let me take this opportunity of
congratulating you, my dear Lieutenant."...
Juve slipped away to join the popular chief commissioner of police,
who was standing apart in the gallery overlooking the hall. Despite
the amiable smile he cultivated, Monsieur Lepine looked anxious.
"Juve, are you on duty here?" he asked.
"Yes and no, Monsieur."
Monsieur Lepine looked his surprise.
"I will explain this to you later, Monsieur," said Juve.... "Things
are still very complicated."
Wilhelmine de Naarboveck came into view. She was one beam of happiness
and radiant beauty.
"Ah, Monsieur, I perceive you are not dancing," she said, playing the
good hostess to Juve. "Will you not allow me to introduce you to some
charming girls?"
"This is not the time," thought Juve: "and there is my age to be
considered."
Making an evasive reply, Juve beat a retreat in good order, and
followed Colonel Hofferman, who was talking to de Naarboveck.
"The work of the Second Bureau," declared that officer.
Juve heard no more--Monsieur Lepine confronted him. The chief
commissioner of police was plucking at his pointed beard with nervous
fingers.
Drawing Juve aside, he asked:
"Juve, what is Headquarters thinking about?"
"I do not know, Monsieur."
"What! There is a visitor here, unnoticed.... Are you also ignorant
of the fact that the Baron de Naarboveck receives a king here
to-night?"
"Oh, as to that, I know it--Frederick Christian II."
Monsieur Lepine was incensed at the detective's calm.
"You know it! You know it!" he grumbled, "and the administration knows
nothing about!... Well, since you know so much, what is he doing here
your king?"
"He comes to see me."
"Juve, you are mad!"
"No, Monsieur, But."...
Juve cut short the conversation, approached the king, and said a few
words to him in a low voice.
The chief commissioner of police was surprised beyond words when he
saw the king listening attentively to what Juve had to say, then nod
acquiescence, leave the ballroom and enter the gallery on to which
several rooms opened, including the library at the far end.
Juve glanced discreetly at his watch. He was startled. His expression
altered. It grew severe, determined. He glanced about him, discovered
de Naarboveck not far off, and went up to him.
"Monsieur de Naarboveck," he said: "shall we have a few minutes' talk?
Not here--somewhere else.... Should we say?"...
"In my library?" proposed de Naarboveck, who looked the detective up
and down--a measuring glance, cold, contemptuous. Their glances
crossed, hard, menacing.
"You are set on it, Monsieur?" De Naarboveck's tone was irony
incarnate.... "And what may I ask is your aim in forcing this
conversation, Monsieur?"
Juve's reply came, distinct, determined:
"Unmask Fantomas!"
"That shall be as you like," was the diplomat's reply.
In the library, unusually full of furniture, Juve and de Naarboveck
met for their duel of words and wits.
They were by themselves. Juve had made the Baron pass into the room
before him. He knew there was but one exit--the door. If in order to
get clear away, de Naarboveck meant to employ force or trickery, he
would first have to remove Juve from the door, before which he had
stationed himself.
Juve did not budge.
Certainly there was the window at the other end of the room looking on
to the Esplanade des Invalides. Curtains were drawn across the window,
but Juve did not fear to see his adversary escape in that direction:
he knew--and he alone knew it--that between this window and the
curtains there was an obstacle--someone."...
"Do you remember, Monsieur de Naarboveck, that evening when the police
came here to arrest Vagualame?"
"Yes," replied de Naarboveck with his ironic smile: "and it was you,
Monsieur Juve, who got yourself arrested in that disguise!"
"That is a fact." Juve's admission was matter-of-fact. "Do you recall
a certain conversation, Monsieur de Naarboveck, between detective Juve
and the real Vagualame at Jerome Fandor's flat?"
"No," declared the Baron: "and for the very good reason that the
conversation--you have just said so--was a dialogue between two
persons: Juve and Vagualame."
"Nevertheless, this Vagualame was none other than Fantomas!"
"What then?" De Naarboveck was smiling.
Juve, after a short silence, burnt his ships.
"Naarboveck!" he cried: "It is useless to double like that! Vagualame
is Fantomas: Vagualame is you, yourself: Fantomas is you, yourself....
We know it. We have identified you; and to-morrow the anthropometric
test will prove in the eyes of the world what to-day is the conviction
of a certain few only.
"This long time past you have known yourself pursued, tracked: you
have noted that the ring has been drawn closer, tighter each day: so,
playing your last trump card, attempting even the impossible, you have
planned this abominable comedy, which consists in duping a noble king
and getting yourself nominated as his ambassador, that you might take
advantage of diplomatic inviolability--an advantage, let me tell you,
you are in desperate need of!... Quite a good idea! Was it not?"
During Juve's virulent apostrophe de Naarboveck had maintained an
ironic self-possession.
"You confess, then?"
"And suppose it were so?... No doubt, Monsieur Juve, you intended to
denounce me, to prove that the Baron de Naarboveck is none other than
Fantomas.... Well, it pleases me to admit your cleverness. I will even
go as far as allow that you may quite well obtain authorisation to
arrest me--in a few days' time."
"Not in a few days' time," interrupted Juve: "but now at once!"
"Pardon," objected de Naarboveck, cool, collected, while Juve had
difficulty in containing himself: "Pardon, but the credentials I
possess are authentic, and no one in this world can deprive me of my
function, of my official position, and what pertains to it."
"Yes!" Juve flung the word at de Naarboveck as though it were a stone
from a sling.
De Naarboveck's gesture might mean anything:
"Who?"...
Juve hurled another two stones in the shape of words.
"The king!"
De Naarboveck's nod was malicious.
"Frederick Christian alone can take from me my style and title of
ambassador.... Let him come and do it!"
Juve lifted a finger slowly towards the far end of the library, in the
direction of the window.
De Naarboveck, who had followed this movement mechanically, could not
restrain a cry of stupefaction, a cry of anguish.
The window curtain had just been gradually drawn apart: slowly before
the miscreant's eyes appeared the majestic form of King Frederick
Christian II, King of Hesse-Weimar.
The king was livid with suppressed rage.
Juve approached him, his eyes on de Naarboveck. The king took a large
envelope from an inner pocket and handed it to Juve.
"I am the victim of this monster's imposture, but I know how to
recognise my mistakes and rectify them.... Monsieur Juve, here is the
decree you asked me for, annulling the nomination of--Baron de
Naarboveck."
During this brief scene, Naarboveck-Fantomas had gradually backed
towards a corner of the room, his face was pallid and drawn: he had
the look of a trapped beast of prey. But at the king's last words
Naarboveck-Fantomas drew himself up to a semblance of stateliness. He
also took from an inner pocket a document. He held it out to the king:
his lips were curved in a smile of bitter irony.
"Sire," he said: "I, in my turn, hand you this! It is the plan stolen
from Captain Brocq--the mobilisation plan for the whole French army--a
plan your emperor."...
"Enough, Monsieur!" shouted the king.
The paper fell to the ground.
Juve bent quickly and picked up the document.
The king, as though to anticipate the suspicion which might be put
into words, said:
"Juve, this plan belongs to your country. Never have we wished."...
The eyes of Juve met those of the king in a deep, questioning glance.
A question was asked and answered then. But five seconds in time had
passed. Juve's glance went back to Naarboveck-Fantomas.... The bandit
had disappeared!
Juve kept his head.
"Michel!" he called: "Michel!"
Michel entered the library on the instant. He had been posted in the
gallery close by. Behind him appeared several gentlemen in evening
dress: they were detectives despatched on special duty from
Headquarters.
"Fantomas is there, Michel," Juve cried: "concealed, but not
escaped.... There may be some hiding-place in these walls--we must
sound them--but no passage, no exit: I am sure of that. Let us carry
out these pieces of furniture, which form a veritable barricade."
Some moments passed, tense with expectancy. At Juve's earnest request
the king had left the room. He had fulfilled his promise and had best
begone. Juve and Michel were guarding the door. The situation was
dangerous, and well the policemen knew it! They had come to grips
with a formidable criminal, to whom nothing was sacred, who would
stick at nothing! Protected by some piece of furniture, he could take
aim at his leisure, shoot his opponents through the heart, and could
go on shooting till he had emptied his revolver.
"Start in!" cried Juve.
With six men to aid him, Juve began a systematic turn-out of the
library, moving the furniture piece by piece, leaving no hole, no
corner unsearched.
No Fantomas!
Yet Juve felt confident, felt sure he held the miscreant in the hollow
of his policeman's hand: the library contained no trap-door, no secret
door, no sliding panel covering his retreat: the floor had no opening
in it: the ceiling was not movable.
"Take these pieces of furniture into the gallery," commanded Juve:
"every one of them! Fantomas is not a being without weight and
substance, though, for the moment, he is invisible. He cannot have
left the room; therefore he must be in it!"
It was no easy task to move quickly, noiselessly, these heavy pieces
of furniture into the gallery by way of the narrow library door. Soon
they had carried out a comfortable leather arm-chair of unusual
proportions, four other chairs, a stand, and various smaller pieces of
substantial make.
And all the while, dancers whirled on in the ball-rooms, seductive
strains of music were wafted on the air, mingled with the hum of
joyous talk and gay laughter; yet in the background were these dark
happenings with tragedy ahead!
Wilhelmine de Naarboveck appeared in the doorway, staring at the
disorder organised by Juve.... Juve paused: speech failed him at sight
of her.
"Monsieur Juve," said she, in quite ordinary tones: "I am so glad I
have found you! The Baron de Naarboveck has sent me to you."...
"Who sent you, did you say, Mademoiselle?"
Juve started forward.
"The Baron de Naarboveck asks for me?... Where? Since when?"
"Why Monsieur Juve, I have just this moment left him at the entrance
to the ball-rooms. He had just come out of here!... But why are you
putting all this furniture in the gallery?"
"What of the Baron, Mademoiselle?" cried Juve, on tenterhooks.
"Ah, yes! The Baron said to me: 'Wilhelmine, I feel a little tired,
and am going up to my room for a few minutes; but go to Monsieur Juve,
and tell him.'"...
Not waiting to hear more, Juve rushed out to the gallery, but only to
stop dead.... He had run up against a large, an unusually large,
arm-chair standing apart. Thus isolated, it was remarkable. Juve
paused to examine it. This arm-chair was astonishing, extraordinary!
Yes--it opened in the middle--a kind of a double chair! Why--the
interior could hold a man who knew how to pack himself in! It had a
false bottom with a spring! One in hiding could escape that way!...
Once closed on the person concealed within, the chair looked empty. A
most ingenious hide-hole! Juve now knew the answer to the riddle of
the bandit's disappearance. Within an ace of arrest, he had seized the
chance offered by Juve's interchange of glances with the king, and
with an acrobat's agility had slipped inside this chair! No sooner was
the chair abandoned in the gallery than de Naarboveck-Fantomas had
slipped out and away. When leaving his magnificent house forever, and
all the securities and privileges of his position, he had sent
Wilhelmine to announce his escape to Juve! Could cynicism--could
mordant irony go further?
Juve felt crushed. It was too, too much.
"What ails you, Juve?" asked a gentle voice beside him. It was Fandor,
who, knowing nothing of what had passed, but suspecting there was
mischief afoot, had come in search of Juve. Had he not seen the
diplomat whom he knew to be Fantomas, and Fantomas on the point of
being arrested, cross the ballroom rapidly and disappear in the crowd
of dancers?
Juve could not find words for speech.
Great tears rolled down his cheeks, hollowed and lined with an immense
fatigue.
At last he gave low utterance to his feelings.
"Fantomas! I had got him!... And it was I who had that cursed chair
taken out of the library--I did it ... I!... It is thanks to me!"
Juve could not continue. He burst into tears in the arms of his
devoted friend....
Once again Juve had suffered shipwreck when coming into harbour! Once
again the bandit had escaped! Ah, decidedly Vagualame, Naarboveck,
Fantomas, were one!
Fantomas the evasive, the elusive, the shadowy Fantomas, genius of
evil, had flitted by them, had disappeared! Whither?...
Would Juve ever have his revenge?
The future alone would decide....
THE END
* * * * *
A NEST OF SPIES
FANTOMAS DETECTIVE TALES
By Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain
* * * * *
I
FANTOMAS
The Adventures of Detective Juve in pursuit of a master in crime.
II
THE EXPLOITS OF JUVE
In this continuation Fantomas appears as the leader of a gang of Apaches,
and as a physician of standing. Juve tracks the criminal to his secret
hiding-place, but Fantomas escapes.
III
MESSENGERS OF EVIL
Filled with hair-raising incidents this tale is a fascinating recital of
remarkable happenings in the life of the master-criminal of Paris.
IV
A NEST OF SPIES
In this volume Fantomas is an ambassador for a foreign power engaged in
Paris in obtaining important military secrets for Germany. Detective Juve
unmasks him, but the criminal again escapes.
* * * * *
12mo. Cloth. $1.35 net per volume
* * * * *
BRENTANO'S NEW YORK
* * * * *