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Not only that, but some generous person had stuffed it literally full of bank notes, and in a small pocket he also found a first-class ticket from Glotzbourg to the frontier. "What on earth does all this mean?" he exclaimed. A search of his erstwhile bed now brought to light a sheet torn from a railway time-table, upon which a certain train was underscored in red ink.
The Comte Juve was a Canadian explorer who, after a trip through Africa, was coming to spend some time at Glotzbourg and was anxious to meet the reigning family. "God forgive us the lie," exclaimed Monsieur Heberlauf, "but as Monsieur Juve's mission is in the interest of the King Frederick-Christian, we are thoroughly justified in the deception."
As a matter of fact he had really had no rest since his tragic awakening in the mortuary chapel at Glotzbourg. He had passed the following night in the train without closing an eye. Upon his arrival he had been busy without interruption until he found himself, at ten o'clock at night, in his little apartment in the Rue Bonaparte with the grotesque Wulf as companion.
The next step was to invite Wulf to dine with him, to show him the waistcoat and prove beyond doubt that it had been made by a tailor of Glotzbourg. Juve's opinion had now become a solid conviction. Fantômas had worn the garment, and had carried the diamond in the pocket of the waistcoat he found in the Marquis de Sérac's apartment. Hence the Marquis de Sérac was Fantômas.
Wulf explained how he had found the King near the fountains in the Place de la Concorde, and Juve realized that in some way or other the King and the fountains were mysteriously connected. In his turn, Wulf plied Juve with questions as to what he had done during his stay at Glotzbourg. What sort of welcome had he received from M. Heberlauf? How had the arrest of Fantômas been effected?
Suddenly the voice explained: "Look here, Sire, we are talking at cross purposes. I am asking you where we can exchange the diamond." "The diamond?" "Yes! Your diamond." Fandor's face grew pale. "My diamond!" "The diamond I went to Glotzbourg to get ... what's the matter with you, Sire? Don't you remember?... And what's all this about a letter?" "Why, Juve!
"That's just what I'm complaining about your absolute lack of comprehension. To begin with, a week has gone by ... a whole week since Juve left, and not a word from Glotzbourg.... In fact, Juve is a day late already.... Does that convey nothing to you?... To me it means that Juve has found nothing there." "I don't quite understand," ventured the bewildered Vicart.
"No, not Fantômas, but the Primitive Man, generally called Ouaouaoua." "And you let him go?" "Oh, I let him go all right, but not before he gave me his address." Juve smiled grimly. "A nice mess you've made of it!" Wulf continued with an air of great importance: "I can tell you something else, the King returns to Glotzbourg to-night, but before he goes we shall have the guilty person arrested."
"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.
Juve was in a cemetery, and the strange room in which he found himself was the mortuary chapel. Nothing disturbed the impressive silence of this vast resting place. In the distance a clock struck five, and far off Juve perceived the silhouette of the Glotzbourg Cathedral.
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