Messengers of Evil

by Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain

  VII

  PEARLS AND DIAMONDS

  "Nadine!"

  "Princess!"

  "Nadine, what time is it?"

  The young Circassian, with hair as black as ink, souple and slender,rose from her chair and was hastening from the bedroom to ascertain thetime when her mistress recalled her:

  "Don't go away, Nadine! Stay with me!"

  The dusky Circassian obeyed: she stared with big, astonished eyes intothose of her mistress:

  "But, Princess, why don't you wish me to go?"

  The Princess stammered in a mysterious tone:

  "Don't you know then, Nadine, that to-day is the anniversary?... and Iam frightened!"

  * * * * *

  Princess Sonia Danidoff was in her bath robe. It must have been aquarter past eleven, or even nearer midnight than that. Although she hadlived in Paris for years, she had never been able to make up her mind tosettle in a flat of her own. Possessing an immense fortune, she muchpreferred the American way of living, and had taken a suite of rooms inone of those great palace-hotels near the place de l'Etoile. Though avery smart staff of servants was reserved for her exclusive use, herfavourite attendant was a pretty Circassian, in whom she had absoluteconfidence. This Nadine was a native of Southern Russia. The movement ofcity life and civilised manners and customs had at first terrified thislittle savage; but she had learned to adapt herself to her changedsurroundings, and was now high in the favour of Princess Sonia. She, andshe alone, was authorised to be present when the beautiful great ladytook her daily baths. For some years past the Princess had insisted onthe presence of a maid when she took her baths: without fail they musteither be in the bathroom itself, or in the room next to it, withinreach or call. But on this particular evening Sonia Danidoff, morenervous and restless than usual, would not allow Nadine to leave her fora second. As to the time--well, if she did not know the exact time itcould not be helped! Really it did not matter to her whether she werehalf an hour or no, for the ball given in her honour by Thomery, themillionaire sugar refiner: in fact, it would be much better to make herappearance after all the guests had assembled--her arrival would givethe crowning touch of brilliancy to this society function.

  Sonia Danidoff had pronounced the word "anniversary" in a tone ofanguish so sincere that Nadine was genuinely alarmed. She knew, only toowell, what this fatal word meant to her mistress.

  She had not forgotten that five years ago to the day, just when thePrincess was enjoying her evening bath, a mysterious individual hadappeared before her, who, after frightening her, had robbed her of alarge sum of money. The adventure would have been little out of theordinary, for hotel robberies are frequent, had not the audacious banditbeen quickly identified as the enigmatic and elusive Fantomas, whoseprodigious reputation had only increased with the passage of the years.

  Sonia Danidoff, who was not ignorant of the dramatic adventures imputedto this legendary hero, could not bear to think of the position she hadbeen placed in that awful night, when, threatened and robbed byFantomas, she had escaped death by a series of unknown and unguessablecircumstances: the tormenting mystery of it all had preyed insistentlyupon her mind. Since then Sonia Danidoff had never taken a bath withoutthinking of Fantomas; and every year when the anniversary of hisaggression came round she suffered cruelly: she was seized with wild,unreasoning fears at the idea that she might see this terrifying banditappear before her again, and that this time he would be merciless.

  Nadine knew all this. She also shuddered at the vision this horribleanniversary evoked, but controlling herself, she was anxious to changethe current of her dear mistress's thoughts:

  "Forget, try to forget, Sonia Danidoff," she counselled in her melodiousvoice: "You are going to a ball--at Monsieur Thomery's--at your fiance'shouse!"

  The Princess shuddered:

  "Ah, Nadine, my Nadine!" she cried, raising herself, and regarding hermaid with a strange look: "I cannot overcome my uneasiness--myalarms!... This coincidence of date agitates me.... You know howsuperstitious we are at home--in our Russia--and the life I lead inParis has not destroyed in me the simplicity of soul of a daughter ofthe Steppes!"

  Nadine did not know what reply to make to this pathetic outburst. ThePrincess went on:

  "And then, do you see, I think it wrong of Monsieur Thomery to even wantto give this ball, only a fortnight after the tragic death of that poorBaroness de Vibray!... I tried to dissuade him from it.... I think theBaroness was his most intimate friend once!..."

  "So it is said," murmured Nadine.

  Sonia Danidoff went on, as if speaking to herself:

  "I am not sure of it ... it is precisely to remove this suspicion frommy mind that Thomery was determined to have his ball to-night at allcosts!... The Baroness de Vibray, so he told me, was no more than a goodold friend.... I cannot make her death an excuse for putting off theannouncement of our marriage ... that would be to give colour toscandal."

  Sonia Danidoff shrugged her beautiful shoulders:

  "Hand me a mirror!"

  Nadine obeyed. The Princess gazed long and complacently at themarvellously lovely face reflected in the glass.

  "Princess," cried Nadine, "you must leave the bath, you will be lateotherwise!"

  In the adjacent dressing-room, brilliantly illuminated by electriclight, the Princess dressed with the aid of Nadine, proud and happy tobe the sole assistant of her beloved mistress. The toilet was a triumph:silk of an exquisite blue, draped with silk muslin incrusted with pointede Venise and bands of ermine: a costly masterpiece of the dressmaker'sart. It enhanced the brilliant beauty of Sonia Danidoff, and threwNadine into raptures.

  The Princess opened her jewel-box:

  "This evening, Nadine, I shall be pearls and diamonds!" cried the lovelycreature, as she fixed two large grey pearls in her ears.

  "Oh, how beautiful you are, Princess! And what a lot they must havecost!" cried Nadine.

  "Ten thousand francs, my child, on each side of my head!"

  Sonia slipped on her fingers three diamond rings set in platinum:

  "And here are eight or nine thousand francs more," continued she, asNadine's eyes grew round with wonder: her mind could hardly grasp allthese thousands of francs-worth of diamonds and pearls. There were stillmore to come; for, rejecting a magnificent bracelet, on the plea thatone no longer wore them at balls, the Princess smilingly bade herCircassian fasten round her neck a superb triple collar of pearls. Tothis was added a sparkling cascade of diamonds. Never had Nadine seenher beautiful mistress so richly dressed. Thus adorned, in Nadine'seyes, Sonia Danidoff was dazzlingly beautiful, exquisitely lovely.

  "You look like the Holy Virgin on the icons!" stammered Nadine,kneeling before her mistress, quite overcome by emotion.

  "Good Heavens! That is blasphemy! I am only a humble human creature!"said the Princess smiling. Then she once more looked at herself in themirrors, well satisfied with her appearance, certain of the effect shewould produce on her future husband Thomery. She threw over hershoulders a superb mantle of zibeline which was quite needed, for,though it was the middle of April, it was quite cold.

  Then, ready at last, she descended to her motor-car, and was whirledaway to the ball.

  * * * * *

  "Cranajour!... Cranajour!"

  Mother Toulouche shouted herself breathless: she tried to shout louderand louder. It was in vain. She might shout herself hoarse--there was noreply.

  The old termagant, who had left the front of her hovel and had gone tocall her assistant, shouting in the passage at the back of the store,returned cursing and swearing, and seated herself near the store in thelean-to which did duty as a kitchen:

  "Where in the devil's name has that imbecile got to?" she grumbled,whilst sipping with gusts from the bottom of a cup, into which she hadpoured a small allowance of coffee and a copious ration of rum. It wasabout eleven in the evening. There was not a sound to be heard.

  Having finished her ru
m and tea the old receiver of stolen goods went tothe entrance of the passage:

  "Cranajour!... Cranajour!" yelled the old termagant.

  There was no answer.

  "He can't possibly be in his canteen," said Mother Toulouche to herself."If he was he'd have answered, fool though he is, and would have comedown!... Sure he's gone to drag his old down-at-heels somewhere--butwhere?... Oh, well, we can manage to do without him!"

  The old receiver went back to her store, and was starting on a queersort of job when the door, which led on to the quay, burst open before apanting, breathless individual. He ran right up the store and stoppedshort. Mother Toulouche had seized the first thing she could find, andhad taken up a defensive attitude. Her weapon was a great ancientcavalry sabre!

  But the newcomer intended no harm--quite the contrary! After aninstinctive recoil, he leaned against a table and wiped his forehead,breathing in gasps, incapable of pronouncing a syllable.

  Mother Toulouche had recognised him:

  "Ah! It's you, Redhead!... And not a bit too soon either! I've beenwaiting for you this last half-hour! Ernestine will be there in tenminutes' time! However is it you are so late?"

  Redhead was well named! His bullet-head was covered with russet-redhair, cut very short; his complexion was a good match; his bloatedcheeks and his potato-shaped nose were covered with red patches; hisshaven chin was a tawny red; round his little gimlet eyes was a fringeof red lashes: it was a bestial face.

  He was hatless; above his waistcoat with metal buttons he wore a blackcoat; his trousers had a yellow line down them: he was evidently aservant, wearing the livery of some big house. The fellow was slowlyrecovering his breath; but he continued to wipe great drops of sweat offhis narrow forehead; he was shaking all over, and his morose countenancewas twitching and contracting nervously.

  "Well, what's your news? Good or bad?" questioned Mother Toulouche in abrutal tone.

  Redhead replied almost inaudibly:

  "That depends!... It's good on the whole."

  A gleam of cupidity showed in the old receiver's eyes:

  "Got a bit of tin on her back, that woman--eh?"

  Redhead nodded a "yes." Thereupon Mother Toulouche went into her backstore and returned with a claret glass filled to the brim with rum:

  "Shoot that down your throat! That'll put you right!"

  When he had swallowed the bumper he seemed to gain courage, and said:

  "If I didn't get here sooner it's because I had to wait--but I saw thelittle thing...."

  "What's her name?"

  "Nadine," replied Redhead, and added: "A pretty little brat, too!...She's got some fire in her eyes!"

  "What's that to do with it?" interrupted Mother Toulouche.

  "You don't mean to tell me you were able to make her gabble a bit?" shequeried contemptuously.

  Redhead bridled: "Likely, since I know everything now ... and I'm hersweetheart, let me tell you!"

  Mother Toulouche said in a jeering tone:

  "You don't tell me! You!"

  "Oh," replied Redhead, "it's just a way of speaking. She's a good littlething--there's nothing to it, you know!"

  "So much the worse!" declared Mother Toulouche. "Virtuous sorts aren'tany use to our lot!... Well--what did she tell you--out with it!"

  "Well," said Redhead, "I waited three-quarters of an hour before Nadinejoined me.... I had no bother in making her talk, I can tell you:without the asking she told me everything ... she was pretty wellflabbergasted with all the jewels her mistress had stuck on her clothesand her skin.... Seems there's hundreds of thousands' worth!... Allpearls and diamonds! Nothing but...."

  Mother Toulouche was calculating:

  "Real pearls, real diamonds--it's possible there's all that worth!"

  Steps could be heard on the pavement just outside.

  Redhead began to shake all over:

  "Who is it?" he asked. "Someone coming in?"

  Mother Toulouche grinned:

  "Be easy, then! Haven't I told you there's nothing to fear?"

  Nevertheless he asked anxiously:

  "There's nothing more I'm wanted for here, is there? I've told you all Iknow."

  "No, no, it's all right!" replied Mother Toulouche, maternal andconciliating, "there's nothing more for you to do here.... Still, if youwant to see big Ernestine...."

  Without waiting to hear the end of her sentence Redhead hurried towardsthe exit. Mother Toulouche did not try to detain him:

  "After all," she said in a low tone to his back as a kind of farewell,"cut your sticks, my lad ... since you're funky!"

  When alone she grumbled aloud:

  "What a lot they are!... I never did!... White-livered, and for nothingat all!"

  Mother Toulouche was still muttering when big Ernestine marched inthrough the back way. She had on a large hat and was heavily veiled. Sheproceeded to remove both hat and veil:

  "Well?" she queried.

  "They've got on to it all right! Redhead has just gone! He knows throughthe little maid that the Princess went off to the ball, dressed up tothe nines--hung with jewels like a shrine!"

  Big Ernestine uttered a deep sigh of satisfaction: her only reply was tohustle the old receiver:

  "Look alive, Mother Toulouche!... You've got to give me a beggar'soutfit: it's up to you to see I'm disguised properly, and there's not aminute to lose either!"

  Mother Toulouche was an expert at disguises and make-up of every sort:this was not to be wondered at, considering the queer company she kept,and the fraudulent business she carried on, and the smuggling she wasmixed up in!

  Big Ernestine, disguised as a poverty-stricken creature and renderedunrecognisable, looked exactly like some unfortunate reduced tosoliciting alms. She walked into the back store, and helped MotherToulouche to take from a cupboard some bottles, bandages, and medicatedcotton-wool. By the light of a smoky lamp the two women scrutinised thelabels, sniffing the various phials and flasks. Big Ernestine, with theaid of Mother Toulouche, prepared compresses of pomade and cotton-wool,on which she sprinkled a few drops of a yellow liquid, giving out asickening odour. Besides this big Ernestine put inside her bodice a longphial, after making certain that the mixture, with which it was full,contained chloroform....

  Then, under Mother Toulouche's watchful eye, Ernestine prepared what wascalled in that world of light-fingered gentry "the mask": a mask ofcotton, which is moulded by force on the face of the victim in order toplunge him, or her, into a heavy sleep. Whilst making these sinisterpreparations the two women talked as they went on with their evil task.Big Ernestine said, in reply to Mother Toulouche's questionings:

  "Oh, it's simple enough! It's like this:... When the motor-car stops Ishall go to the right-hand door and begin to beg ... likely enough, thePrincess won't want to hear what I have to say, but while I attract herattention, Mimile, who will be on the other side, will open the door,and will stick the compress on her mug.... She won't struggle--besides,Mimile will have hold of her--and then I'll have had time to see whereher jewels are, and how they are fastened, and then I'll soon have themin my pocket--my deep 'un!"

  Mother Toulouche nodded:

  "It's arranged all right, but how will you arrest the motor?"

  "Oh, that's where the others come in; they'll do it all right.... Iexpect they're seeing to it now!..."

  "But, look here," cried Mother Toulouche, "Mimile isn't in bits then?They said he had fallen from his flier!"

  Big Ernestine gave a laugh:

  "He fell right enough, poor little fellow, and from pretty high too--buthe's not broken a thing ... not this time ... a bit of luck I don'tthink--eh?"

  "He's a mascot, I'm certain," declared Mother Toulouche. Then she said:"You spoke of the others?... Who are they--the others?"

  "But didn't they tell you?" cried the surprised Ernestine, for shethought old Mother Toulouche was in the know: "Why, there's theBeadle--and the Beard...."

  "Oh," cried Mother Toulouche, much impressed: "If the Beard's in it,then
it's a serious affair!"

  "Yes," replied big Ernestine, staring hard at the old receiver of stolengoods: "It's serious all right! If the chloroform doesn't work--oh, well... they'll bring the knife into play...."

  Big Ernestine looked at her little silver watch to mark the time:

  "Past midnight!" she remarked: "I must hurry off and see what they're upto!"

  As she was making off Mother Toulouche stopped her:

  "Have a glass of rum to start on--it puts heart into you!"

  The two women were quite ready for a drink together. When they hadswallowed their dose, big Ernestine smacked her tongue:

  "Famous stuff!... It puts a heart into you and no mistake!"

  "Yes, it's the right stuff--the best," agreed Mother Toulouche: "It'swhat Nibet prefers!" she added. Then she cried: "But Nibet, how ...isn't he in it?"

  Big Ernestine put a finger on her lips:

  "Nibet's in it of course--as he always is--you know that, oldToulouche--but he's content to show the way--you know he seldom doesanything himself ... besides, it seems he's on duty at the depotto-night!"

  Big Ernestine threw an old shawl over her head and went off crying:

  "I'm off, and in for it now!... Soon be back, Mother Toulouche!"

  * * * * *

  The magnificent mansion of Thomery, the sugar refiner, overlooked thepark Monceau. It was approached by a very quiet little avenue, in whichwere a few big houses: it opened on to the boulevard Malesherbes, andwas known as the avenue de Valois. All the dwellings there aresumptuous, richly inhabited, and if the avenue is peaceful and silent byday, it is no uncommon thing to see it of an evening crowded withcarriages and luxurious motor-cars, come to fetch the owners away todinners and entertainments.

  On this particular evening the approaches to the avenue de Valois werefull of animation. Motors and broughams succeeded one another in a longfile, putting down the guests of Thomery under an immense marquee,covering the steps leading up to the vestibule.

  All the smart world had been invited to the reception: all Paris swarmedinto the brilliantly illuminated entrance-halls of the mansion.

  Two mounted policemen sat as immovable as bronze caryatides on eitherside of the entrance, whilst a swarm of policemen made the carriagesmove on, and drove away from the aristocratic avenue de Valois the bandof poverty-stricken and ragged creatures who crowded the pavement withthe hope of securing a handsome tip by opening a carriage door orpicking up some fallen object.

  It was no easy matter to keep order. One of the police sergeantsaccustomed to ceremonial functions remarked to one of his youngercolleagues:

  "I have seen balls and receptions enough! Well, my boy, this Thomeryaffair is as fine a set out as if it were at the President's!"

  Although it was one o'clock in the morning, both on the boulevardMalesherbes and at the entrance to the rue de Monceau there was movementand activity. If, as seemed likely, there was a crush in the greatreception-rooms of the Thomery mansion, it was certain that outside thecrowd had to form up in line to get near the counters, where the winesellers were serving their customers without a moment'sintermission--serving them with drinks of every description. Thus therewas a hubbub, there was noise and roystering clamour all around. Most ofthe chauffeurs, coachmen, and servants knew one another.

  Mingling with all this aristocracy of the servant class werepickpockets, mendicants obsequious and wheedling, who offered themselvesas understudies to these of the upper ten of the servant world, andthese aristocrats were ready to seize this chance of a little liberty,and at the same time play the generous patron to these poor failures inlife's battle. In fact they gave more generous tips than their masters;for did they not rub shoulders with misery and thus realise, only toovividly, the measureless horrors of destitution?

  Ernestine and Mimile lost themselves in the noisy crowd. They were alleyes and ears for everything going on around them, whilst keeping inview their two accomplices, the Beadle and the Beard. This was more thanusually difficult, because they were disguised almost out ofrecognition. The Beard was muffled in a blue blouse and a big soft hat,which gave him the look of a peasant, who had wandered into a crowd withwhich he had nothing in common. The Beadle was capitally disguised as acoachman in good service who is out of a situation, but who, from vanityand custom, sports the emblems of office.

  He was continually chewing a quid of tobacco; for such is the habit ofcoachmen who cannot smoke on their seats, and thus console themselveswith two sous' worth of roll tobacco.

  The Beadle stopped beside a chauffeur who had just got down from hiscar, a magnificent limousine, lined with cream cloth, while its exteriorwas a dark maroon in the best taste.

  "Why, it's Casimir!" cried the Beadle, going up to the chauffeur withhands outstretched and smiling face.

  Mechanically the chauffeur, addressed as Casimir, responded to theoffered handclasp. But, after a short silence, he said in a questioningtone, quite frankly:

  "I cannot recall you."

  "Can't you remember me!" cried the Beadle. "Why, don't you rememberCesar--Cesar who was with Rothschild last year?"

  No, Casimir could not remember. But he was quite willing to believe thathe knew Cesar, for he had seen and known so many since he had been inthe service of Princess Sonia Danidoff, that there was nothingextraordinary about his forgetfulness. Besides, Cesar looked quite adecent fellow, and had a taking face, and one only had to look at thatbeaming countenance of his to be sure that an invitation to take a drinktogether would soon be forthcoming!

  The Beadle, satisfied that he had so easily made a friend of thechauffeur of Sonia Danidoff, whom he had only known by sight for thelast forty-eight hours, did in fact suggest their taking a glasstogether. The Beadle had indeed come up to expectations!

  Drink was Casimir's besetting sin. Excellent chauffeur, solid andserious fellow as he was, he had two defects: he was addicted totippling, though he never drank to excess, and never got drunk. Also, hewas fond of a gossip: he could talk for hours without stopping.

  The Beadle had been posted up regarding Casimir's little weaknesses andtastes. Thus nothing was easier than to set trap after trap, into eachof which the simple fellow fell as they were set--fell fatally.

  The Beadle introduced the Beard to Casimir under the name of FatherIndia-rubber: an old codger, whose trade was to buy and sell tyres tochauffeurs, tyres new and also second-hand. At this moment a youngragamuffin appeared on the scenes: he asked if he might be left incharge of the car. It was Mimile. The young hooligan, who had followedthe conversation of the three men, and of Casimir in particular, whilstkeeping in the background, now intervened at the right moment. He madehis offer just as the chauffeur was looking about him in hopes offinding some poverty-stricken creatures into whose charge he could givehis car. Casimir gave him twenty sous as an earnest of what was tofollow in the way of coin, saying:

  "Take great care of my little shanty! Don't let anyone come mouchingaround it, and when I return you shall have double what you've justhad!"

  "Thank you, master!" cried Mimile, bowing low before the chauffeur: "Youmay rest assured I shall keep a good look out!"

  Mimile exchanged signs of understanding with his two accomplices, whilstthey, talking as they went, drew the innocent Casimir towards thenearest tavern, which was crowded with wine-bibbers.

  Mimile, as faithful guardian of the limousine, soon got bored, althoughbig Ernestine was prowling around, and came to have a minute's talk withhim now and again: they dared not be seen together too much for fear ofattracting attention. As time went on, Mimile was surprised that neitherthe Beadle nor the Beard came to report progress. But at long last themajestic outline of the Beard was seen at the corner of the rue Monceau.The pretended seller of india-rubber was coming out of the tavern.

  He hastened to Mimile and, in a low, distinct voice, he gave him somehurried instructions, for now there was no time to lose:

  "That idiot would never get done with his stories about m
otor-cars, andall that stuff and rubbish--what's that to us? But--keep your ears opennow, Mimile--it seems there are still fifteen litres of petrol in thetank, and that would take it a long way, for the motor consumes verylittle.... But this shanty has got to stop about five hundred yards fromhere, at the corner of the rue de Monceau and the rue de Teheran ...it's by this way Casimir will take his Baroness back from the ball....Well, what you have to do is to take fourteen litres and a half fromthat tank and pitch them in the gutter!... When Casimir finds that hispetrol has given out, he will have to go in search of more ... it'sduring his absence that we will work the trick on the prettyPrincess--we'll perform an operation on her, and amputateher--jewellery--the whole lot!"

  The Beard drew from under his blouse an empty bottle, which he hadstolen in the tavern:

  "Here's your measure! Count carefully fourteen litres and a half--thatdone, wait quietly till Casimir turns up: your part in the story will beforty sous, and not to rouse his suspicions; then, while he goes up theavenue de Valois to take up the Princess, you and Ernestine have togallop off to the corner of the rue de Monceau and the rue de Teheran,then ... wait!"

  * * * * *

  Mimile, with the agility of a monkey and the ability of a first-ratechauffeur--for there was nothing he did not know in the way of appliedmechanics, as became an aviator--executed to the letter his accomplice'sorders.

  The Beard meanwhile had returned to the tavern and Casimir.

  * * * * *

  Suddenly, all was activity in the world of carriages and coachmen! Thegreat ball was drawing to its end. Casimir was once more in possessionof his motor, and had generously tipped his understudy: thereupon thehooligan had made off as fast as his legs could carry him. Ernestinejoined him at the appointed spot: there the two rogues waited."Listen!" cried big Ernestine some fifteen minutes later.

  She stared in the direction of the boulevard Malesherbes, with neckoutstretched and straining eyeballs. At last, after an agonising wait,she and Mimile saw the carriages driving by. "Attention!" cried bigErnestine in a sharp whisper ... "everybody's on the move at last!"

  * * * * *

  The Beadle and the Beard, hidden in the crowd which thronged theapproaches to the Thomery mansion, awaited the departure of PrincessSonia Danidoff: the idea of this rich prey excited them. Then as theystared at the first outflow of departing guests, the two bandits couldnot but notice that far from looking gay and animated as people do whohave danced and supped well, these guests of Thomery showed pale,dejected faces: in fact, they had all the appearance of people under theinfluence of some tragic emotion.

  "They look pretty down in the mouth, don't they?" whispered the Beard inthe Beadle's ear.

  "That's a fact! You'd think they were returning from a funeral!"

  Then a vague rumour began to circulate; confirmation followed, spreadinsensibly within the Thomery mansion, was passed on by the lackeys,spread from the pavements to the avenue. People whispered ofincomprehensible things incredible, but which little by little tookdefinite shape. It was said that the Thomery ball had just become thescene of an accident, of a drama, of a robbery, of a crime!... Thepolice, and of the highest grade, had intervened.... The news spreadlike a train of ignited gunpowder.... Nevertheless, if Thomery's guestswere cognisant of the details, they did not take the beggars andpickpockets into their confidence: among the light-fingered gentryconjectures were rife.

  The Beadle and the Beard, who tried to catch odds and ends of talkseparately, joined each other again, looking crestfallen, discomfited.The Beadle broke silence, with an oath, adding:

  "I am certain we have been done ... someone has got in before us--beentoo smart for us!"

  Beard nodded: he was of the same opinion.

  But who then could have had the audacity to plan such an attempt andcarry it out, too? Who could have had the same idea as he and hiscomrades, and to realise it successfully? Whoever it was had provedhimself the better man. In spite of himself the bandit, in thought,formulated one word:

  Fantomas!