A Royal Prisoner Part 26

The struggle between Juve and the monster had scarcely lasted a second.

The detective had fired point blank at the black mask and as his finger pressed the trigger he had felt the whistle of a bullet past his ear.

Then a door had opened slightly, letting in a thin shaft of light. To his amazement, Fantomas no longer stood before him, but an officer in the uniform of the Queen's lancers.

Juve was not taken in by this quick change, and was on the point of firing again when suddenly his eyes were filled with a blinding powder, burning and blistering the pupils. He had been blinded by pepper.

Instinctively he put his hands to his face, and in that moment he felt himself enveloped in the long cloak in which Fantomas had entangled him.

Falling to the ground in agony he then heard the cry:

"Help! Help!"

By the sudden and growing noise, he realized that the crowd was drawing near. When he had struggled to a sitting posture, he found himself a prisoner.

The sudden change from darkness to bright light increased the pain in his eyes, but with a superhuman effort he was enabled to pick out the superb uniform of the false lancer. Pointing to him, he cried:

"Arrest him, why don't you arrest him!"

Brutally, he was told to keep quiet.

The noise of the theft spread rapidly and the greatest confusion reigned in the Palace. Many of the women fainted. Finally M. Heberlauf arrived.

He appeared immensely important, and confided to a group his opinion of the affair, adding this restriction:

"At any rate, that is what my wife believes."

Mme. Heberlauf had, in fact, after an interview with one of the officers, announced it as her opinion that the thief so providentially arrested was no other than the world-famous and unseizable Fantomas.

And then a queer thing happened. When the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Alexandra heard this sinister name spoken, when she knew that Fantomas had been arrested, she staggered as though struck to the heart and fell fainting into the arms of her friends.

"Fantomas!" she murmured, "Fantomas arrested! Can it be possible?"

Juve was taken away tightly bound. He seemed indifferent to the clamor of the crowd and constantly looked from side to side as though searching for something or somebody. Suddenly, as he pa.s.sed the group surrounding the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Alexandra, he made a violent effort and dragged his captors close enough to enable him to see the fainting woman's features.

One look was enough, and then without further resistance he allowed himself to be marched away. He had found out what he wanted to know; he had recognized in the Grand d.u.c.h.ess the mistress of Fantomas, the accomplice of his most dreadful crimes. He had seen Lady Beltham!

CHAPTER XVII

ON THE RIGHT TRAIL

"The Bureau of Public Highways, if you please?"

"What is it you wish to inquire about?"

"I want some information as to the probable duration of certain repair works."

"Ah, then go to the fourth floor, number 54, door to the right at the end of the pa.s.sage."

"Thanks."

With a slight nod, the visitor entered the huge building on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, which houses the offices of Public Works. He was a young man, dressed in a long black overcoat, a derby hat, which he wore well down over his eyes, and a wide bandage that covered one eye and part of the cheek.

After climbing the four flights indicated, he discovered that he had evidently taken the wrong staircase. There was nothing to do then but to go back to the porter's lodge and get more explicit instructions. But after taking a few steps, he hesitated.

"Fandor, old chap," he soliloquized, "what's the use of showing yourself and taking the risk of being recognized as the erstwhile King of Hesse-Weimar?"

For the individual who was in search of the Bureau of Public Works was no other than the journalist. An hour previously he had succeeded by clever strategy in getting rid of the excellent Wulf, who was at all times very loath to let the King out of his sight. Then, rus.h.i.+ng to his own apartment, he had changed his clothes and partly covered his face with the bandage to conceal his features.

After several futile attempts, aided by innumerable directions from pa.s.sing employes, he at length reached the office of which he was in search. There he encountered a clerk who viewed him with a suspicious eye.

"What do you want, Monsieur?"

"I want some information."

"We don't give information here."

"Really!... Why not?"

"Are you a contractor?"

"No."

"You wish to lodge a complaint?"

"No."

"Then what is your business?"

"Just to get some information as to the probable duration of certain works."

"You are not a reporter?"

"I am not a reporter. I am an advertising agent."

"Ah, that's different. The office you are looking for is number 43, the door opposite ... but there's n.o.body in now. However, you can wait."

Fandor crossed and entered room 43, where, after a moment, he discovered an occupant tucked away behind an enormous pile of books and ma.n.u.scripts. This clerk was absorbed in a yellow-covered novel and greeted Fandor with evident ill-humor.

"What d'you want?"

"I would like to know, Monsieur, the probable duration of the repair work in operation at the Place de la Concorde."

"And why do you want to know that?"

"I am an advertising agent, and I may have a proposition to offer to the city."

"And at what point is this work in operation?"