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It was ultimately to Fantômas that he owed his present dreadful position to this thrice accursed Genius of Crime Fantômas. That evening Fandor's absorbing reflections were broken into by the turning of a key in the lock of his cell at an unusual hour. Through the half-opened door he heard the close of a conversation between his jailor and an unknown person.
With the same assurance which he himself had had a few minutes before, the agent of the Second Bureau heard the new arrival slip his key into the lock, open the door, close it as confidently as though he were entering his own home; and now, yes, he was coming towards the study! There was no light burning in Fandor's study: some gleams from the gas-lamps in the street dimly illumined the room.
Tell him the matter is most urgent." It was ten o'clock at night. Corporal Vinson was dressing in haste. "Plague take it!" he cried. "I mustn't lose a moment if I don't want to miss my train." Vinson was dressing in Fandor's bedroom.
"But Juve! I tell you de Naarboveck must return to his house! Let us put a watch on him and trap him!" Juve's voice trembled as he made answer: "We cannot arrest de Naarboveck!"... "Why?... What do you mean?"... "Because, though I have the right to place my hand on the collar of Fantômas, I have no power to arrest de Naarboveck!"... Fandor's reply to this was an uncomprehending stare.
Juve would be surprised, anxious, would make enquiries at the Company's offices, would learn that on the Sunday evening Fandor had occupied the place reserved for him in the sleeping-car, would be reassured, would not worry about Fandor's abrupt departure and silence Fandor was holiday making! "Yes, it is all right!" reiterated Fandor.
Here is this Vagualame at Fandor's!... It's significant!... and then?... No, there's no doubt about it! This beard is false! That moustache is artificial!... This individual is made up!"
He would await the event! Fandor's spirit rose once more indomitable. He closed his eyes. He lived again, as might a drowning man, his hours of joy, of struggle, of triumph, of defeat, of high endeavour: all the thick-packed hours of vivid life. Ah, how Fantômas had haunted him from childhood onwards!
Whilst Corporal Vinson was congratulating himself on the turn of events, the agent remained in Fandor's flat, feeling as if he were the victim of an abominable nightmare. No sooner had he hurriedly let himself into the flat in order to escape the resident coming upstairs, than he heard the bell ring: he felt desperate: "Who the devil was it!"
A hurried visit to Fandor's lodgings disclosed the fact that the journalist, after a brief absence, had returned home for an hour and had then disappeared again. "Upon my word," he thought, "he might at least have sent me some word. He must know how anxious I would be about him." From Fandor's house Juve had gone direct to Susy d'Orsel's apartment.
At Fandor's entrance he was wide awake in a moment: he swore: it was the sergeant. "What do you want?" he demanded roughly. Adopting a military manner, Fandor announced: "Corporal Vinson, just arrived from Châlons, exchanged from the 214th, sergeant!" "Ah! Quite so. Wait! I will show you your company."
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