XVI
DISCUSSIONS
The portress rang up Fandor on the telephone.
"Monsieur Fandor! There is a stout little lady down here! She wants tosee you! Should I let her go up?"
Fandor's first impulse was to say "no." He glanced at the timepiece: itwas exactly two minutes past eight and Juve might be here at any minute.He was sure to keep his appointment.
After an instant's hesitation, Fandor decided on a "yes." He called downto the portress:
"Let her come up!"
Fandor had an idea: perhaps this person knew something about theappointment made that afternoon at the Palais de Justice! It would bewell to find out the why and wherefore of this call. In any case, it wasbest for a journalist to see all comers, if possible.
There was a discreet ring, announcing that the stout little lady hadalready mounted the five flights of stairs and was now on Fandor'slanding.
Our journalist went to open the door, standing well back in the shadow,so that his visitor might show herself first, as she passed into thelittle hall.
Yes, she was certainly stout, short, and also elderly. She wore a bonnetwith strings, perched on a thick crop of grey curls, yellowish at thetips. This elderly dame wore glasses; she was wrapped in a large brownshawl, and she supported herself, as she walked, with a crook-handledstick.
Whilst the puzzled Fandor closed his front door, the visitor madestraight for the little sitting-room, where our journalist usually sat,surrounded by his books and papers.
"Ah, she seems to know my flat!" thought Fandor. The next moment hejumped back; for, no sooner had the visitor got well into the room, thanshe straightened her bent back, threw off her shawl, and dropped herstick! Then, tearing off her grey curls and her spectacles, the visitorrevealed herself as--Juve!
Fandor burst out laughing.
"Juve! Well, I never!"
"It's Juve, all right, my boy!" cried the smiling detective, as he ridhimself of the feminine get-up which impeded his movements. "I waspleased to see, my lad, that you did not suspect my identity until I hadthrown off this second-hand wardrobe I bulked myself out with!"
"Oh!" cried Fandor, "that's only because I hardly looked at you. If Ihad, Juve, you may be sure I should have recognised you!"
"Possibly! But what do you think of the disguise?"
"Not so bad, Juve; but why did you change your sex this evening?"
"Oh, for the fun of it, and to keep my hand in ... besides, the moreprecautions we take when we meet, the better. Admit for a moment thatour enemies are keeping a watch on you here: what will they recollectabout your doings this evening? Why, that Fandor, the journalist, had acall from a lady, and that she did not leave in a hurry either!"
"Hang it all! I've no objection to a Don Juan reputation, but I may say,without offence, that, as a woman, there's nothing particularlyattractive about you, Juve, in the garb you've just discarded!"
"Bah!" replied Juve. "You mustn't be so particular, my dear boy--as ifdress mattered--or appearance either!"
Juve was lighting a cigarette as he walked about the room, examining thebooks and other objects with which Fandor had surrounded himself.
"A charming home!" murmured the detective....
Then, he inspected the contents of a little show-case, in which Fandorhad collected what he called his "Circumstantial Evidence"; in otherwords, various objects relating to cases he had been engaged on, such asscraps of clothing, blood-stained weapons, broken locks: these recordsof crimes, new and old, were carefully labelled. Juve began questioningFandor about these sinister relics. Five minutes of jokes and laughter,then Fandor became serious. He drew his friend to a corner settee.
"Juve," said he, in an impressive tone, "I have found the connectinglink!"
"By Jove! You have, have you!" cried Juve in a bantering tone, and witha quizzical look. "Let us see it!... Explain!..."
Regardless of his friend's scepticism, Fandor proceeded to expound histheory.
"I did as you suggested. I was present at the trial of the smugglers: Ilistened to Counsel's speech for the defence, but judged it useless tostay to the end. When Maitre Henri Robart began a disquisition on thefacts, I left. Here is what I have noted:
"Someone owns a house in the Isle of the Cite; a house which is ameeting place for receivers of stolen goods, ruffians, robbers, andvagabonds: a house possessing underground cellars of no ordinary kind.Now, this Someone never mentions this strange house of his, though hemust be aware of its existence; then this Someone knows intimatelyseveral, at least, of the people more or less involved in the JacquesDollon affair, and--one may boldly assert it--the Dollon plot washatched in a cellar, in a sewer of the Cite.
"One of two things!...
"Either this personage is timorous, is afraid of being compromised,and does not consider in what an awkward position this coincidenceplaces him--if that be so, he is a singularly thick-headedindividual--or--well--Monsieur Thomery ... you are the most rascallyscoundrel it has been my lot to admire, up to now! But I assure you, weknow how to get even with you! From the moment we have established, inthe first place, a connection between all these affairs--that theyindubitably hang together; secondly, that you, Monsieur Thomery, are theconnecting link...."
"No," interrupted Juve, sharply....
"What is that you say?..."
"I say--_no_."
"What?" cried Fandor, taken aback. He stared at Juve, who continued tosmoke his cigarette, unmoved. But Fandor was obstinately set on statinghis point of view.
"The primary cause of the Dollon affair seems to be the suicideof the Baroness de Vibray, a suicide probably owing to a lovedisappointment--the old lady had been forsaken by her lover--MonsieurThomery!..."
"No."
Juve's denial slightly annoyed Fandor, but did not stop him.
"I ask: was the man who robbed Sonia Danidoff one of the guests? It isvery unlikely; for, not only were the clothes of all those presentsearched, but all Thomery's guests were known, well known!..."
"No!"
Fandor bit his lip.
"It's true, Juve! You were there yourself, and no one penetrated yourdisguise, and discovered who you really were! My last argument is,therefore, worthless ... but I fancy your attitude, your way ofreceiving my deductions, hides something. Have you got new information!Fresh facts to go on? You know who stole the jewels?"
"No."
"Good Heavens! How aggravating you are, Juve!... But this time you willsimply have to agree with me! Listen!... When we first met, after ourlong separation, you admitted that one thing bothered you--the ease withwhich your nefarious band of villains of the Isle of the Cite were ableto get rid of considerable sums of false money; and you were trying tofind their market--by what means these wretches were able to ridthemselves of the coin; when, apparently, they were not acquainted withany influential people in the business world, or in the circles of highfinance.... Well, I have discovered their channel of distribution--it isnone other than the proprietor of this house properly, the ground floorand basement of which are occupied by Mother Toulouche--obviously, it isThomery!..."
"No!"
Fandor lifted hands to heaven in despairing fashion and sat silent. Hewas deeply mortified. There was a long pause, during which Juve calmlysmoked on. At last, Fandor asked in a hopeless sort of tone:
"Well?... What do you think?"
Slowly, as if awakening from a dream, Juve began to speak.
"We know nothing for certain so far, my lad, except that the Baroness deVibray has committed suicide; that Princess Sonia Danidoff has recoveredfrom the shock of her jewel robbery, and is to marry Thomery next month... there is nothing extraordinary in that ... just as there is,perhaps, nothing surprising or extraordinary in the series of robberies,nor even in the crimes occupying our attention at the present moment!"
Fandor jumped up. "Nothing!" he shouted. "You are joking, Juve! It isabsurd what you say! Do just think a minute, my dear fellow! Why, allthese affairs are closely connected,
from the Jacques Dollon affair, upto ... up to ..."
Fandor stopped short. Juve, who had been listening to him with seeminginattention, now appeared wholly anxious to hear the end of thesentence: he stared hard at Fandor.
"Go on! Go on! I want to make you say it!..."
And Fandor, as though in spite of himself, finished with:
"Up to Fantomas!"
"Yes, at last we have got it!" cried Juve.
The two men gazed at each other; once more the logic of deductions, thechain of circumstances had inevitably led him to pronounce the name ofthe formidable bandit, of whom they could not think without a shudder;whose memory they could not evoke without immediately feeling themselvessurrounded by sinister gloom, lost in a thick fog of mystery, of whatwas strange, hidden, occult!
Fandor's countenance cleared suddenly as he gave utterance to the ideawhich had just crossed his mind.
"Juve, do you not think that this mysterious prison warder, calledNibet, might very well be an incarnation of Fantomas, because in so manycircumstances ..."
Juve interrupted Fandor with a gesture of denial.
"No, old fellow," said he gravely. "Don't start on that trail, it isassuredly a bad one: Nibet is not Fantomas. Nibet does not count formuch, one might say, for nothing at all; he can scarcely be called atiny wheel even in the great machine driven on its diabolical course byour fiendish enemy ... we must look higher than that!"
"Thomery?" insisted Fandor, who still held to his idea, and wasdetermined to turn Juve to his way of thinking....
But Juve still said "no!" to that.
"Let us drop Thomery, my lad! As to Fantomas, how do you think we canidentify him in this haphazard fashion, basing our idea on puresupposition? ... For, who is Fantomas--the real Fantomas, among so manyprobable Fantomas?
"Can you tell me that, Fandor?" continued Juve, who was getting excitedat last.... "I grant you that we have seen, in the course of ourchequered existence, an old gentleman, like Etienne Rambert, a thicksetEnglishman like Gurn, a robust fellow like Loupart, a weak and sicklyindividual like Chaleck. We have identified each one of them, in turn,as Fantomas--and that is all.
"As for seeing Fantomas himself, just as he is, without artificial aid,without paint and powder, without a false beard, without a wig, Fantomasas his face really is under his hooded mask of black--that we have notyet done. It is that fact which makes our hunt for the villainceaselessly difficult, often dangerous!... Fantomas is always someone,sometimes two persons, never himself!"
Juve, once started on this subject, could go on for ever, and Fandor didnot try to stop him: when the course of conversation led them to talk ofFantomas the two men were as though hypnotised by this mysteriouscreature, so well named, for he was really "Fantomatic," a spectralentity: the two friends could not turn their minds to any other subject.They discussed Fantomas up and down, in and out, and round about!...
* * * * *
It was getting on towards one o'clock when Fandor saw Juve off as far asthe staircase. The detective had resumed his disguise, but neither manwas in a joking mood now. Fandor had given Juve an account of theannoying, yet rather absurd incident at the convent, when he andElizabeth were unsuspectingly bidding each other a passionate farewellunder the watchful and scandalised eye of a nun! Fandor had thought itbetter to take Juve into his confidence on the point, though it wentagainst the grain, for he was bashful with regard to his feelings.
Juve had openly laughed at first, but when he understood that Elizabeth,requested to leave the convent, would again be without a safe shelter,he became serious, reflected for a minute or two, then gave his dear lada piece of advice, advice which Fandor had seemingly taken objection to,and had finished by agreeing to....
They parted with these words:
"The more you think it over, dear lad, the better you will like myidea," said Juve.
Fandor had not said "No" to it!