Messengers of Evil Part 65

Fandor felt himself flung towards the wall. The vise loosed its grip.

There was a terrific din. The window panes were shattered, a heavy piece of furniture was pushed aside, oscillated, fell with a crash; then a sudden silence; but a silence broken by gaspings, loud breathings, hoa.r.s.e sounds, an agonising death rattle.

The dead pause seemed interminable.... Fandor was about to shoot again, when a voice close to him cried:

"He is escaping!..."

Jerome Fandor recognised that voice!...

Another voice said:

"We must have a light!"

A wax match flamed and flared.

By its wavering light Fandor could distinguish three men in the room....

Their clothes were torn: there was blood on their faces, they were panting: they stared at one another.

Fandor recognised them instantly.

Leaning against the bed, a gash in his cheek, was Monsieur Barbey.

Lying on the floor, apparently half dead, was Monsieur Nanteuil.

Calmly lighting a candle was the telephone workman. He alone seemed unmoved.

Fandor threw down his revolver and, coolly marching to the door, locked it.

Monsieur Barbey followed the journalist with a look. He made a gesture of discouragement and pointed to the window: its panes were smashed to pieces.

"We are tricked--done!" he said. "The a.s.sa.s.sin has got away!"

But Fandor, with a shrug, marched up to the window, returned, and said in a matter-of-fact tone:

"It is impossible that Fantomas could have made his escape that way!"

The workman nodded gravely.

"Monsieur Fandor," said he, "I am entirely of your opinion."

XXVII

THE IMPRINT

"Monsieur Fandor, I am entirely of your opinion!"

Hearing these words, Fandor, who had regained his self-possession, and was ready to start fighting again if necessary, looked at the individual who had made this statement--the individual whose face was oddly familiar.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The individual smiled broadly.

"Don't you recognise me?" he asked.

He removed his wig, threw the candle light on himself, and smilingly announced his style and t.i.tle.

"Sergeant Juve, once of the detective force; formerly dead: now amateur policeman!"

"You! You, Juve!" cried Fandor. "And to think I suspected you...."

But the two bankers interrupted at one and the same moment.

"What are you doing here?"

Juve smiled.

"The art I practise brought me! Since my interest in the Dollon affair is so keen, I follow it up, I wish to find the secret of it, just through love of my art. I dabble in it nowadays."

"But Juve--how did you get here?" questioned Fandor.

"Ah, ha! If you have made some psychological discoveries: if reasoning has landed you here, now facts have led me here!... You know I was shadowing the band of Numbers. You know that in the skin of Cranajour I was intimate with those rascals. To my astonishment I found that my wretched companions had dealings with the Barbey-Nanteuil bank, who, of course, had no suspicion of it! Are you surprised then that I felt it inc.u.mbent on me to visit this bank?... Besides, yesterday, I saw you enter here; but you never came out again! You had reasons for acting so.

I determined to be near you, in case you needed my help. I therefore pa.s.sed myself off as a workman come to attend to the telephone installation. It was easy enough, for I am a good electrician.... Well, when I found that you were preparing to pa.s.s the night here, I laid my plans accordingly. I pretended to leave the premises, but really I hid myself in the house. Just now, when you called for help, I came to your aid as quickly as I could, naturally!"

"Just as we did!" remarked Monsieur Barbey, looking at his partner.

Monsieur Nanteuil contented himself with a nod. He added:

"Alas, once again that criminal has escaped! Fantomas, since it was Fantomas who was here, just now, Fantomas has got away!" And Nanteuil pointed to the broken window by which it would seem the criminal, taking advantage of the noise, had escaped.

But both Fandor and Juve shrugged doubtfully.

"You believe then, Monsieur Nanteuil, that Fantomas has left this room?"

questioned our young journalist.

"What the devil do you mean?" asked Nanteuil.

Juve demanded.

"Which way did he make his escape?"

Nanteuil pointed.

"Why that way! By this window ... where else?... You can see quite well that he has broken the panes!... Why, look! His hooded cloak has got caught on the window latch!..."

Fandor lay back in an arm-chair. He seemed much amused. He silenced Juve with a gesture, and turned to Nanteuil.