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Updated: June 11, 2025
Hurriedly he left his office and made his way through the halls to his chief, M. Annion. His first care must be to cover his own responsibility in the matter. M. Annion, cold and impassive, listened to his recital in silence and then broke out: "You have committed a blunder, M. Vicart.
"Good God!" cried M. Annion. Here was this impostor affair cropping up again. The girl must be crazy. "But it's unbelievable! Come, Mademoiselle, weigh well the gravity of your words you can scarcely be making this up as a joke, I hope. You can furnish absolute proof of what you say? Why do you think the King is not the King?"
"By the way," pursued M. Annion, oblivious of Juve's trouble, "you didn't happen to learn any details concerning the King's toilette at Glotzbourg?" "No, why?" "Oh, nothing of importance. I should like to have known whether it was a fact that Frederick-Christian wore an 18-inch collar. It would merely have been another proof." The words literally stupefied the detective.
M. Annion took the Rue des Saussaies at 7.30 and having reached home, dined quickly while he read the evening paper. The news was startling.
Fantômas dead! Fantômas dead in prison! I must be dreaming!" While he was rereading the astonishing news, the door of his office opened and Juve walked in. "Juve!" "Myself, Chief." "Well!" "Well," replied Juve, calmly, "I've had a pretty good trip." Brandishing the telegram, M. Annion cried: "Fantômas is dead!" "Yes ... Fantômas is dead." "What have you found out?"
"That doesn't matter; you have only to do as I say and all will be well." M. Annion was overcome. Wulf, after testifying to the identity of the King, had been sent to wait in an adjoining room while Juve and M. Annion had a confidential chat. "Well, Juve, I can't get over it. Without you, I should have made a terrible break! The King arrested! What a scandal! But, tell me, what's to be done now?
A thorough search on the ice and among the crowd on shore failed to discover the lady, who had doubtless left at the same time as the King. While skating from group to group Juve was brought up by a conversation in low tones between M. Annion and M. Lepine. Hiding behind a tree, he listened attentively. "Well, you know the last news?" "Yes," declared M. Annion, "but it seems very extraordinary."
"This Marie Pascal is crazy," he thought, "or else she is up to some game which I don't understand... the King is the King all right, but, hang it all, that doesn't alter the fact that he is an assassin." M. Annion had left the Ministry quite late the evening before in a very bad humor. Not that he had any doubt about the deposition of Marie Pascal.
Now it would be very easy to verify the fact that the real King wears this size and also whether it fits the supposed impostor. In any case, Monsieur, from inquiries made among the hotel servants I find there can be no doubt that Frederick-Christian is actually staying there, and that his intimate friends have been received and have recognized him." M. Annion did not answer.
"Go, go," replied M. Annion; "perhaps you are right ... anyhow, don't forget to take letters of introduction with you." "Oh, don't worry about that. I can get all I want from my colleague." "Your colleague?" "Yes, from this excellent Wulf." "Come in and sit down, Monsieur Wulfenmimenglaschk." The Marquis de Sérac led the way into his study.
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