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"Disgusting creatures!... Low-minded wretches!... Degrading occupation!... They respect nothing, and no one!... Insinuating such abominations!... Wilhelmine de Naarboveck the mistress of Brocq!... How vile!... Loathsome creatures!" It was now obvious to the alert Juve, who drank in every word, each gesture of de Loubersac's that the enraged lieutenant adored Wilhelmine ... no doubt on that score!
This de Naarboveck has a daughter: she is twenty. This Mademoiselle Wilhelmine was terribly distressed, and in a state of profound grief, the day after Brocq's death. I am not going so far as to pretend that Mademoiselle de Naarboveck was Brocq's mistress; but one might easily think so." "How do you know that Mademoiselle de Naarboveck showed grief at the death of Captain Brocq?"
After all, it was exceedingly improbable, surely, that she had carried away this document without noticing it, for it was composed of three or four large sheets of paper!... In that case, she must have lost it before getting into the taxi. As to supposing for an instant that she had taken it away intentionally Brocq would not suppose it. Why should he? There was nothing to lead him to think.
You are a young woman speaking to an old beggar, and you are not to forget it." Bobinette sat down mechanically. She questioned him, and her voice was trembling. "Dead? What has happened, then?" "What has happened is that you have played the fool! Brocq saw clearly that you had stolen the document from him." "He saw?"... "Yes, he saw it!
His taxi is surrounded by a crowd of vehicles, and without having time even to see his attacker, without anyone having seen him, Brocq collapses, mortally wounded, killed as though in battle, by a shot, a mysterious shot, fired from a weapon of the most perfect kind.... Come now, Fandor! Is that not a crime worthy of Fantômas?" But the journalist was not convinced.
He must do all in his power to make himself agreeable, fascinating, that he might get into the good graces of this girl; for she was the very person whom it behooved him to interrogate regarding the mysterious adventure, the outcome of which had been the death of Captain Brocq.
The young woman stared fixedly at the journalist, as if to read his thoughts, as if to divine whether or not he knew that not only had she met Captain Brocq, but had spent some time with him alone. Fandor did know it, but he remained impenetrable. Bobinette, very much mistress of herself, said quite simply: "It is a fact Monsieur, that I did see Captain Brocq yesterday.
"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.
"You acknowledge then, that these notes were in your possession?" "Yes, I do." Underline it with red pencil!" Dumoulin fired a point-blank question at Fandor. "Did you know Captain Brocq?" "No." "You did know him," insisted the commandant. "No," repeated Fandor. He questioned in his turn: "Why?"
The death of her first son, whom the Emperor wished to adopt, and whom he had intended to be his successor in the Empire, the divorce of her mother, the tragic death of her best-loved friend, Madame de Brocq, who, before her eyes, slipped over a precipice; the overturning of the imperial throne, which caused her the loss of her title and rank as queen, a loss which she, however, felt less than the misfortunes of him whom she regarded as her father; and finally, the continual annoyance of domestic dissensions, of vexatious lawsuits, and the agony she suffered in beholding her oldest surviving son removed from her by order of her husband, such were the principal catastrophes in a life which might have been thought destined for so much happiness.
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