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Updated: June 18, 2025
Juve, noticing this, began questioning him, promising to treat him as well as he possibly could, if he would speak out, in confidence; assuring him of the leniency of the judges if he consented to denounce his accomplices. When Vinson realised that he was to stand his trial for spying, for betraying his country, as well as for desertion, he was only too glad to obey Juve's suggestion.
The sea was rough: a strong wind from the south-west had been blowing all the afternoon. The boat began to pitch and toss: the passengers were drenched. Though nothing of a sailor in the nautical sense, Juve took his duckings with equanimity: a bit of a pitch and toss would keep Vinson occupied. The fog was Juve's friend: it lent an air of vagueness, of confusion, to Butler-Vinson's surroundings.
However, she determined to follow Juve's advice and spread the gossip. With that purpose she went down to see Mother Ceiron. As the concièrge was not in her room she called through the hallway: "Madame Ceiron!... Madame Ceiron!" A man's voice answered and a laundryman came downstairs carrying a basket. "The concièrge is on the sixth floor, Mademoiselle.
His conviction that de Naarboveck and Fantômas had relations of some sort dated from the night of his own arrest as Vagualame in the house of de Naarboveck. He had gone further than that. "Yes," he had said to himself: "de Naarboveck must be a manifestation of Fantômas!" Corporal Vinson's revelations regarding the den in the rue Monge had but strengthened Juve's impression.
"Which means to say?"... pressed the superintendent. "It does not mean anything." Juve's tone was a mixture of contempt and anger. The superintendent was staggered. Juve's anger increased. "It does not mean anything," he repeated. "Inhibition! Inhibition!
The Empire clock on Juve's desk struck half-past eleven. The detective, having gone over in his mind the course of events just narrated, rose abruptly and tapped Wulf on the shoulder. "Monsieur Wulf, if you are to remain here you are very welcome to do so; as for me, I'm going out." Wulf, wakened out of a doze, sat up and stared at Juve, an expression of dawning suspicion in his eyes.
Judging it unwise to make himself known to the master and mistress of the house, Captain Loreuil played his part vigorously to the last. Close on Juve's heels he came, shouting: "This is a nice kind of shop, this is!... You shall not remain here, Sosthène, my child! Come, then, with your mother! She will find you a very different situation to this! My poor Sosthène!"...
By the side of the coffin lay a pile of clothes, and to Juve's amazement he recognized them as being his own! "Well," he exclaimed, "there can be no harm in putting them on, since they are mine." A further search disclosed, tucked away in a corner of the coffin, his pocketbook.
"My lad, do not question me further! I cannot say more." Fandor desisted: Juve's sincerity was obvious. "All serene, Juve! I leave it to you. Whatever happens. I shall try not to lose sight of you. I shall stick to you like a leech if you have need of me." Juve held out his hands. "Thanks, dear lad!" With fast-beating hearts, thrilling with excitement, expectation, anxiety, the friends embraced.
The king, as though to anticipate the suspicion which might be put into words, said: "Juve, this plan belongs to your country. Never have we wished."... The eyes of Juve met those of the king in a deep, questioning glance. A question was asked and answered then. But five seconds in time had passed. Juve's glance went back to Naarboveck-Fantômas.... The bandit had disappeared! Juve kept his head.
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