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It would be madness to attempt it! For Fandor divined that behind the mask of Trokoff lurked the evil countenance of Fantômas Fantômas who was gloating over his confusion and despair, rejoicing in his agony, counting on his collapse, hoping for some act of cowardice. Never would Jérôme Fandor play the coward! At this stake to which they had bound him he would die without a sound!
He returns! We will fall upon Trokoff!... We will avenge ourselves!" A heavy step was heard on the stairs; someone was mounting hurriedly.... Trokoff was about to reappear.... Fandor grasped the revolver de Naarboveck had just handed to him. He bounded to the door, ready to leap on the entering man. De Naarboveck was ambushed on the side opposite to Fandor.
Marching at the Nihilist's heels, after many twists and turns, Juve arrived at the foot of a quite ordinary staircase. "You have only to mount, brother Trokoff. These stairs lead straight into the shop. If the police ask where you come from, you have only to say that you were looking in the first cellar for a book!... But what matters it if they do visit the cellars!
Trokoff, you have guessed it, is Vagualame! Is Fantômas!... Cost what it may we must get the mastery of him!" Fandor could not turn his head, but he felt his bonds were being loosened.... A minute or two and he was free!
"Let but one of these inspired fanatics, who hold life cheap, guess that I belong to the police, and they would kill me without mercy or pity," thought Juve, as he faced the assembly of revolutionaries with a serene countenance. There were no threatening looks. They believed themselves to be in the presence of Trokoff.
Trokoff continued, in a quieter tone: "The police may have been warned of our gathering here! We are spied on, tracked! You know it well!... Suppose we stay to watch the dying agony of this wretch! Suppose the police descend upon us! They will snatch from us our just revenge and will arrest us all!... Hand over this monster to me and leave the place.
The man who posed as chief came nearer his fellow-conspirators, who bent their heads as he apostrophised them: "Brothers, there is a man in Paris who has worked more harm to us than have all the police in the world: a man who has stirred up against us the indignant horror of public opinion by an accumulation of hideous crimes, the responsibility for which he has cast on us!... This man I, Trokoff, have vowed to deliver up to you, that you may wreak your vengeance on him!... Look well, brothers!
Menacing voices repeated: "Since Fantômas is indirectly our persecutor, let us avenge ourselves on Fantômas!... What matters one life compared with the cause we defend the cause of a whole people!... If Fantômas is in our way, troubles us, let us kill him!... Trokoff will be here to-morrow, this evening perhaps! Trokoff will guide us!
Trokoff will find this mysterious bandit who does us so much harm! Trokoff is a valiant man!... We do not know him, but we know what he has done!" Juve smiled a sardonic smile. He thrust his hand into the opening wedged apart by his revolver, widened the space, opened the secret door, and entered the assembly room of the Nihilists. "God save Russia!"
Juve pronounced these words with unction, in a solemn voice. "God save Poland," was the reply. The oldest man present, who had thus been spokesman for the assembly advanced towards the stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded. Without the quiver of an eyelid, an eyelash, Juve answered: "I am he whom you have awaited.... He who will direct your arms guide you! I am Trokoff!"
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