A Nest of Spies Part 73

a.s.suredly that ill-omened bandit was responsible for the sudden departure of Elizabeth, immediately after Fandor had obtained from her charming lips the sweet avowal of her love.... He owed to Fantomas that he had been unable to join his life to that of this exquisite girl: to Fantomas he owed it that he could not trace her to her unknown retreat. Was she still in the land of the living? It was ultimately to Fantomas that he owed his present dreadful position--to this thrice accursed Genius of Crime--Fantomas.

That evening Fandor's absorbing reflections were broken into by the turning of a key in the lock of his cell at an unusual hour. Through the half-opened door he heard the close of a conversation between his jailor and an unknown person.

"I also give notice, my good fellow, that my secretary will come to join me presently," said the strange voice. The jailor replied:

"That is quite understood, Maitre. I will warn my colleague, who will come on guard in my stead in ten minutes' time."

Fandor saw a barrister entering his cell. He supposed him to be the official advocate prescribed by the Council of War.... Not in the least disposed to unbosom himself to this defending counsel imposed on him by law, Fandor was about to give him a freezing reception, but at sight of the new arrival's face our journalist stood speechless. He recognised under the barrister's gown someone whose features were deeply graven on his memory, though he had not met him but once.

"Naarbo."... escaped his lips.

A brusque warning movement of the new-comer cut Fandor short. At the same time he closed the door with a lightning quick movement. The pseudo advocate then approached Fandor, saying in a low tone:

"Do not seem to recognise me. Yes, I am de Naarboveck.... It is thanks to a subterfuge that I have been able to get near you."...

Fandor was nonplussed. A hundred questions rose to his lips, but he did not speak. He had better await developments. As de Naarboveck had run such risks to enter his cell so disguised, he must have something extraordinary to say to the prisoner, Jerome Fandor!

De Naarboveck seated himself on the one bench the cell contained. He invited Fandor to sit close to him, so that they might converse in low tones.

"Monsieur," began the baron, "I obtained a permit to visit you as the official advocate allotted to you by the president: that official's visit is due to-morrow.... Well, a favour is never lost when one is not dealing with the ungrateful!... Some weeks ago, when you came to interview me with regard to the deplorable a.s.sa.s.sination of Captain Brocq, I spoke freely to you, and at the same time asked you to give me your word not to put into print a number of those personal details with which journalists like to sprinkle their pages."...

"I remember," agreed Fandor.

"I confess I did not put much faith in your discretion, being a journalist," went on the baron. "I was then agreeably surprised to find that I had been interviewed by a man of tact. Since then I have followed with sympathy the tenebrous adventures in which you have been involved.... It was not without emotion that I learned of the grievous position you are now in. I will come straight to the point--I am here to extricate you from that position."

Fandor caught de Naarboveck's hands in his, and pressed them warmly.

"Can what you tell me be true?" he exclaimed.

The diplomat hastily withdrew his hands from Fandor's grasp, opened a heavy portfolio such as advocates carry, and drew from it a black gown like his own, an advocate's cap, and a pair of dark coloured trousers.

"Put these on as quickly as possible," said de Naarboveck, "and we will leave here together."

Fandor hesitated: de Naarboveck insisted.

"It is of the first importance that you leave here! I know where proofs of your innocence are to be found.... We have not a minute to lose: besides, as a member of the diplomatic service, it is of the utmost interest to me that the doc.u.ment stolen from Captain Brocq should be recovered.... I know where it is. I want you to return it to the Government. That will be the most striking proof possible of your innocence."

Fandor's critical faculties were momentarily suspended: he seemed moving in some dream. Mechanically he clothed himself in the get-up which the baron had thought good to bring him.

Fandor had seen so many extraordinary things in the course of his adventurous existence, that he did not stay to question the reason for this diplomat's interest in his poor affairs--an interest so strong that he had run serious risks to reach the prisoner and make himself the accomplice of that prisoner's flight.

Out of prison, free, Fandor could and would act!

The two apparent men of the law gently opened the cell door. De Naarboveck cast a rapid glance up and down the corridor, on to which half a dozen cells opened.... The corridor was empty and silent. De Naarboveck and Fandor stepped out, gently closing the cell door.

"The opening of the prison door is our next difficulty to be overcome," whispered de Naarboveck: "I warned the jailor that I expected my secretary. Let us hope he will take you as such and let us pa.s.s out unmolested."

The military prison of the Council of War of Paris is not like other prisons: that is why de Naarboveck's plan had a fair chance of success. It would certainly have failed had it been attempted at La Sante or at La Roquette.... This building had been a private hotel of the old style.

On the first floor, the former reception-rooms had been divided into small offices, and the princ.i.p.al drawing-room had been transformed into a court-room. On the ground floor, what were evidently the kitchens and domestic offices in the last century now const.i.tuted the prison proper, for in these quarters are arranged the cells where the accused await their appearance before their judges. No one unacquainted with these arrangements would suspect that the low door, scarcely noticeable in the vestibule facing the staircase leading to the first floor is the entrance to the prison.

Yet those who pa.s.s through this low door find themselves in the corridor lined with prison cells.

At the door of the prison a warder is posted, whose role is not so much to watch the prisoners and prevent any attempt at escape as to open to persons needing to enter that ill-omened place. At night-time supervision is relaxed. The warder has to keep the offices in good order, and when he has his key in his pocket, certain that the heavy bolts and locks cannot be forced, he comes and goes about the house.

De Naarboveck was not only well posted in these details, but was aware that up to the day of Fandor's trial, in view of the extra coming and going, it had been decided to give the guardian an a.s.sistant, and that this a.s.sistant would be at his post from six o'clock onwards.

It was past six o'clock.

The chances were, that when the false advocates knocked from the inside, the prison door would be opened to allow them egress by the supplementary guardian. De Naarboveck tapped on the peephole made in the ma.s.sive door.

The noise of heavy bolts withdrawn was heard; the prison door was half opened: the warder's face appeared. Fandor stifled a sigh of satisfaction: it was a jailor who did not know him: it was the subst.i.tute counted upon.

"Ah!" cried he, saluting the gentlemen of the long robe: "Why, there are two of you!"

"Naturally," replied de Naarboveck: "Did not your colleague let you know that my secretary had joined me?"

"I knew he was coming, but I did not understand that he had already come," replied the man.

De Naarboveck laughed.

"We leave together--what more natural?"

"It is your right," grumbled the man: "Have you finished your interrogation of the accused Fandor?"

As he asked this pertinent question, the jailor made a movement to enter the prison and make sure that the prisoner's cell was locked. De Naarboveck caught his arm.

"Look here, my man," said he, slipping a silver coin into the jailor's hand: "We are not suitably dressed for the street, and our ordinary clothes are at the Palais de Justice. Will you be kind enough to stop a cab for us? We can get into it at the courtyard entrance!"

The jailor decided that he could safely postpone his visit to Fandor's cell. He went out into the courtyard with the two apparent advocates.

Standing on the step of the courtyard gate he looked out for a pa.s.sing cab.

A taxi-driver scented customers. He drove alongside the pavement. In a moment de Naarboveck and Fandor were seated inside it, and, whilst waving his hand to the respectful and gratified warder, he instructed the driver in a clear voice:

"To the Palais de Justice!"

As soon as they reached the rue de Rennes, de Naarboveck changed his destination....

He turned to Fandor.

"Well, Monsieur Fandor, what have you to say to this?"

"Ah, Baron, how can I ever express my grat.i.tude?"