AN EPILEPTIC SEIZURE
Towards five o’clock that afternoon a busy-looking individual was
crossing the Tuileries gardens at a rapid pace. Without a moment’s
hesitation, like a man accustomed to follow the same route almost every
day, he strode over the Pont Solférino, then turned to the left and
hurried along the Boulevard Saint-Germain. It was a man of thirty-five,
on whose powerful features could be read the signs of manifold cares
and anxieties, quick-eyed, alert, evidently a person of distinction,
and one well known by sight to many Parisians. Not a few passers-by
turned round to look after him, seeming to search their memories to
find the name that belonged to the face they saw. Others again, better
informed no doubt, gave a start of surprise, then bowed respectfully.
The pedestrian paid scant heed to their salutations, pressing on deeply
absorbed in his own thoughts, and not so much as casting a careless
glance in her direction when he happened to meet or overtake a young,
pretty and well dressed woman. Nevertheless, on arriving opposite
the Ministry of Public Works, he halted in his rapid progress to
shake cordially by the hand an old man, wearing a decoration at his
buttonhole, who, despite the difference of age, saluted the younger man
with a profound bow.
“Good-day, Monsieur le Ministre ...” began the old gentleman, for the
individual so addressed was in fact no less a person than the Minister
of Justice, Monsieur Désiré Ferrand.
After thanking the latter warmly for an official appointment
lately received through his instrumentality, the elder man, an
Engineer-in-Chief, M. Vauquelin by name, expressed his surprise at
meeting the Minister moving about the streets alone.
But Désiré Ferrand made light of his objections:
“My dear sir, my temperament is too energetic, my nature too exuberant,
to endure a purely sedentary life. I must be up and about and on the
move for some hours every day. Very often I go to see friends who
live at the farthest extremity of the Boulevard Raspail, and one
of my greatest pleasures is to find my way there afoot whenever my
duties allow me the time ... yes, on foot and quite alone,” added the
Minister, “like any ordinary citizen.”
“Alone, quite alone?” protested the other; “however, I take it that
is only in a way of speaking, Monsieur le Ministre, for I feel very
sure the Prefecture of Police keeps an eye on so exalted a functionary
as yourself and that, according to custom, officers of the Criminal
Investigation Department assure your personal safety.”
“By no means,” protested the Minister, “I am afraid of nobody, and will
have no one accompany me.”
The old engineer made no reply, but on taking leave of Désiré Ferrand,
he shook his head sceptically, pointing to two men who appeared to be
following the Minister, but keeping at a respectful distance behind.
“And those two?” he queried.
Presently, as the Minister was proceeding on his way, he took occasion
to glance behind him and noticed that the two individuals pointed out
were actually following the same road as himself and seemed to be
dogging his steps.
The two men were of totally different appearance. The one, dressed in a
long frock coat and an old silk hat, was of a common, vulgar type. His
companion was a young man wearing a light, well-cut jacket, breeches
and a cloth cap. He looked like a cyclist and might have been twenty at
the outside.
Watching them more carefully, Désiré Ferrand felt convinced they were
deliberately shadowing him. This was intolerable, and a few yards short
of the intersection of the Rue de Rennes, the Minister came to a sudden
halt and challenged the pair:
“What do you want, gentlemen,” he demanded, “why do you follow me?”
“M. le Ministre,” replied the elder of the two, “we are Inspectors from
the Investigation Department; we are instructed by the Prefect of
Police to safeguard your person.”
Désiré Ferrand looked annoyed. “The Prefect,” he said emphatically,
“is over officious; I have no fears, all I want is to be left alone in
peace. Be so good as to leave off following me; I will be responsible
for the order I now give you to your superiors.” The two bowed
deferentially and made a show of turning back the way they had come.
Meantime Désiré Ferrand, cursing the Prefect’s precautions, halted
at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic to slow down
and grow less dense before crossing the Rue de Rennes. He was just
opposite the exit from the North to South Underground as a numerous
and compact crowd of passengers issued from the bowels of the earth.
Taking advantage of the press, the two men whom the Minister of Justice
had ordered to turn back, but who had only made a feint of doing so,
approached their intended victim, whom they had not lost sight of.
Paulet, rather staggered by the Minister’s rebuff, began questioning
M. Moche, not without a note of anxiety in his voice:
“I never thought,” he began, “we were going to meddle with a toff
of this swell sort ... such an important bloke as all this ... a
Minister’s not just like everybody else.”
“Silly boy,” replied the old fellow, “Ministers are made of flesh and
blood like the rest of us, and I can even assure you ...”
Père Moche broke off suddenly, his face losing the look of indifference
it had worn hitherto.
“Attention!” he muttered, “the play’s beginning!”
A big man with huge hands and an evil face, standing a few yards away,
had just signalled to M. Moche; this done, unintentionally it seemed,
the fellow bumped violently against Désiré Ferrand, who staggered,
taken unawares as he was, and uttered a furious: “Look out, sir, look
where you’re going, I say ...”
But at the same instant Paulet, in accordance with the directions he
had received, taking the Minister in the rear, violently tripped up
his heels. What old Moche had foreseen happened. The Minister pitched
over backwards, striking his head on the pavement and lay there half
stunned. Then Paulet, quick as lightning, dropped on his knees beside
the fallen man and dragging the jaws open with his sinewy hands,
slipped the rubber ball into Désiré’s mouth.
Instantly the chokepear dilated to thrice its size, and try as he
might, the unfortunate Minister could not ejaculate one single word.
A crowd quickly collected. Moche for his part had prudently slipped
away to one side, while his eyes searched anxiously among the vehicles
prowling round in search of fares for a certain conveyance whereof the
driver was his confederate. Soon this particular cab hove in sight;
indeed it had never been very far from the scene of action. It was a
taxi that had been following the little group ever since they left the
Pont Solférino.
Paulet meanwhile was playing his part splendidly. With the help of
the big fellow with the knotty hands who had butted into the Minister
in the first instance, he was clearing a ring, pushing back the over
curious.
“I beseech you, ladies and gentlemen,” he was shouting, “go away; it’s
a poor fellow, an invalid, who has just had an attack. Yes, he’s in a
fit ... he’s ill,” he kept repeating, and everybody agreed the young
man was perfectly right.
The Minister in fact, utterly at sea as to what had befallen him,
merely aware that he could not utter a word and that they would not let
him get up, was writhing and wriggling like a man possessed. A frothy
lather covered his cheeks and poured from between his lips.
The spectators were of one mind, all repeating parrot-wise the same
words:
“It’s a man been taken ill, an epileptic just had an attack!”
The taxi selected by old Moche drew up to the pavement. With the help
of kind-hearted assistants, Paulet and his accomplice hoisted the
Minister into the cab, still vainly resisting!
The two brigands took their places inside with their victim; then,
just as the vehicle got under weigh, old Moche with surprising agility
sprang on the step and took his seat beside the chauffeur.
The plot had succeeded—a triumph, indeed!
But, after all, with what object had they kidnapped the Minister of
Justice? What did they expect to make of it?
In the Chamber at the Palais-Bourbon, excitement was at its height.
There was a constant coming and going of Deputies, talking together
eagerly without paying the smallest attention to the demand for silence
from the President’s chair, whose bell rang out unceasingly. Presently,
however, quiet was restored when the President of the Council, the
much respected M. Monnier, mounted the tribune to make the following
announcement:
“Gentlemen, I regretted a while ago to have to inform you that our
honourable colleague, M. Désiré Ferrand, Minister of Justice, had not
returned to his house ... I have this moment received an extraordinary
letter, so extraordinary in fact that I am tempted to believe it
to be the work of a practical joker. Nevertheless, under present
circumstances, I consider it my duty to make you acquainted with its
contents.”
“Read, read!” rose a unanimous cry—and in a voice trembling with
emotion, M. Monnier read out:
“—By my decree, Désiré Ferrand has been held prisoner since
yesterday. Again by my decree, he will be released to-day at
5 o’clock.
“By seizing the Minister of Justice and holding him at my
disposition, I have merely desired to afford an indication of my
power to compel the House to negotiate with me; I want money, I must
have a million francs; let the Government decide to give me this sum,
and I will disappear. If not, the direst consequences must be faced;
I shall begin with the Minister of Justice, the entire Government
will be dealt with in turn.”
* * * * *
The reading of this monstrous document roused in the auditors divers
feelings of the most opposite nature. While some members laughed
uproariously, persuaded it was simply a grotesque joke, others looked
perturbed, asking themselves if the President of the Council had not
lost his head. But a vivid curiosity was universal. There could be no
doubt something prodigious, phenomenal was involved! Supposing the
defiance to be facetious, still the disappearance of the Minister was
alarming.
What was this mysterious power that functioned thus in the dark, but
whose existence could not be disputed? Instinctively, reason, logic,
common sense urged one and all to seek to know the author of these
atrocious pleasantries, and M. Monnier was exhorted to make known the
name signed at the foot of the letter.
With a wave of the hand the President demanded silence, then he
announced, in troubled tones, not knowing whether his words would
provoke an outburst of mockery or of panic:
“It is signed,” he said, “Fantômas!”
The Chamber was in an uproar. The name was too familiar, too notorious,
too terrifying, not to sow distraction in the ranks of the people’s
representatives. In truth all were pretty well agreed that only
Fantômas could have had the audacity to imagine such a scheme could
succeed.
“Fantômas!” they declared, “yes, Fantômas is at the bottom of all this,
that is certain, beyond dispute!”
But numerous objections were raised against any such conclusion:
“Fantômas, why yes, he exists, that cannot be denied; but the police
unearthed the fellow, the elusive brigand was none other than the
Criminal Investigation Officer, Inspector Juve! Now, Juve had been in
gaol for the last six months! He was to be tried; meantime the prisoner
was under safe watch and ward at the gaol of La Santé.”
At the same time, Juve-Fantômas had accomplices no doubt, and the head
of the gang being under lock and key, it was a justifiable supposition
to allow that one of his subordinates had taken over the direction of
his nefarious schemes. Already Deputies were busy suggesting names,
and that of Jérôme Fandor emerged conspicuous amongst the divers
conjectures tentatively advanced by Members. All were unanimous in
loudly and furiously proclaiming the enormity of the scandal.
But suddenly a dead silence fell on the assembly. Five-o’clock had
just struck. Now everyone remembered the terms of Fantômas’ letter,
according to which the Minister of Justice was at five o’clock
precisely to be at the Palais-Bourbon. Anxiously the Deputies waited.
Some minutes passed amid tense excitement ... Then, suddenly, like
a clap of thunder, broke out a tornado of applause and heartfelt
congratulation, in which all parties joined unanimously. Issuing from
the corridor at the back of the hall Désiré Ferrand has appeared.
The Minister’s powerful features wore a look of assumed indifference,
but for all the man’s command of his feelings, it was plain he had
passed through appalling experiences. His face was drawn and pale, and
the hair above the temples seemed to have whitened!
A mighty rush surged towards the Ministerial bench, each more eager
than the other to express his cordial sympathy and to hear what had
happened to the unfortunate Minister. The latter was explaining to
those about him as much as he had been able to understand of the
strange adventure, speaking hurriedly, in broken sentences.
“The thing is inconceivable, insane, mad!... An attack in broad
daylight, in the centre of Paris, in the middle of a crowd of
people ... Resistance was useless ... I was forced into a motor cab!
Once inside the vehicle, brigands gagged me, blindfolded me, bound me
hand and foot. The taxi drove on and on a long, long time ... I had
no notion where they were taking me.... I spent the night in a damp
cellar, in cold and darkness, while a masked man, holding me all the
time under threat of a revolver, tried to extort a promise of ransom
from me. He talked about a million francs ... I was dumbfounded!”
“Fantômas!” was the general cry, “it is Fantômas’ work!”
The Minister went on: “This morning they brought me food, I was dying
of hunger ... I took what they offered; then, about three o’clock, my
gaoler of the previous night, masked as before, returned after being
away for some minutes. He blindfolded me again, pinioned me and once
more led me to a waiting motor, which drove off and only stopped at
last after a long time ... I was told to get out, and two men informed
me I was now a free man, while each set to work to unloose my bonds ...
A few minutes after, my hands being now free, I tore away the bandage
that covered my eyes and discovered I was in a wood bordering a high
road. The car which had conveyed me was vanishing in the distance,
carrying my captors with it. I walked straight before me till I came to
the nearest house to be found, where I learnt I was on the outskirts
of the Bois de Viroflay. An hour ago I was there still ... my first
thought, gentlemen, was to come to the Palais-Bourbon ...”
The Deputies, after listening to this extraordinary narrative, looked
at one another in amazement as they exchanged ideas in excited tones.
Meantime M. Monnier had drawn his colleague on one side and was showing
him the letter bearing Fantômas’ signature.
“What is to be done?” asked the President of the Council in much
perplexity, a fine politician no doubt, but lacking in decision in
times of crisis.
Désiré Ferrand, in no way unmanned by the tragic adventure whereof he
had been the hero, was boiling with rage and indignation. Springing to
the tribune:
“Gentlemen,” he thundered, “the ludicrous outrage of which you have
been informed affects not simply and solely a Member of the Cabinet,
it affects the Government itself, the Chamber as a whole, it is a
blow aimed at the entire Country, an insult you can never brook!
more than ever Paris lies terror-stricken at the crimes of Fantômas
and his accomplices. This is no time to mitigate stern measures—far
from it, we must show a hand of iron! As Minister of Justice, I give
you my guarantee that the most peremptory orders shall be issued for
the wretches guilty of these acts of violence, the last of which was
directed specially at myself, to be energetically pursued and then
punished with the utmost rigour of the law. The danger is not one to
make us draw back, it should inspirit us to go forward! The Government
will ask your suffrages, pledging itself to respect the claims of
Right, of Justice and of the Public Safety!”
A thunder of acclamation greeted the Minister’s bold words, while from
divers quarters came cries of:
“The names!... the names of the malefactors!... Juve!... Fantômas!...
The police—to work, the police ... Jérôme Fandor!... down with the
Press!...”
Again and again cries were repeated and through the ever swelling roar
of this human flood, that tossed like a tempestuous sea, pierced again
and again the names of Juve, Fantômas, and above all of Fandor:
“Fandor is at large!... Fandor has disappeared!... arrest Fandor!...
lock up Fandor!...”
Standing like a statue in the tribune, arms crossed on his breast,
eyes aflame, as he looked down at his fellow-members, Désiré Ferrand
signalled his assent and approval. But his authority must win a
sanction, his power be reinforced, and as the Minister left the
tribune, not without reiterating his promise that the sternest and
most peremptory orders should be given the whole police force for the
arrest of the criminals, a member, leader of one of the most important
parties, laid on the table of the House the draft of a motion; this was
immediately read by the Clerk of the Chamber, as follows:
“_The Chamber, justly indignant, but confidently relying on the
Government’s declaration of its resolve energetically to pursue the
criminal or criminals guilty of the unspeakable outrage whereof the
Minister of Justice has been the victim, hereby offers the latter its
sincere and heartfelt sympathy, and proceeds to the order of the day._”
The motion was received with unanimous shouts of approval. By show of
hands the Chamber voted the order of the day, as proposed, and when,
for custom’s sake, the President demanded if any were of the contrary
way of thinking, not a hand was raised, not a protest was heard.
“By 527 votes in a house of 527 members present, the order of the day
is approved!” announced the President triumphantly, as he vacated the
chair.
“The first time in history,” declared the old hands of the
Palais-Bourbon, “the Chamber has ever recorded a unanimous vote!”
It was now seven o’clock in the evening, and as they emerged on the
Quai d’Orsay, greeted with acclamation by the throng of idlers waiting
outside, members jostled against newsboys crying special editions of
the evening papers, wherein were already described in the minutest
detail the extraordinary events that had just taken place.