Fandor had followed Juve's rapid narrative with the most intense interest. "And then, Juve, what then?" insisted Fandor. "And then," said the detective, "to make an end of it--for we must not be forever going over the past adventures--let me tell you, that after many and diverse happenings, a band of smugglers and false coiners, among whom are to be found individuals already known to you, notably the Beard, the Cooper, and also that wretch of a Mother Toulouche, one fine day made the acquaintance of a poor sort of creature, simple-minded, and anything but sharp-witted--an individual who goes by the name of Cranajour!" "Cranajour?" queried Fandor, "I don't in the least understand." "Yes, Cranajour," repeated Juve. "Here is how it came about. You remember when Fantomas got an unfortunate actor named Valgrand executed in his stead? Well, our mysterious Fantomas, the better to mislead and bamboozle those who might suspect this atrocious jugglery, our bandit of genius--for Fantomas has genius--took the personality of Valgrand for several hours, and dared to go to the theatre where the real Valgrand was playing. However, as Fantomas was not capable of playing the part to a finish, he conceived the idea of making those about Valgrand believe that he had been suddenly afflicted with loss of memory, and from that moment could not remember anything whatever: Fantomas, the false Valgrand, could thus pass for the true Valgrand, and be taken as such by the true Valgrand's intimates!... I humbly confess, Fandor, that I copied Fantomas by creating Cranajour...." Juve, then rapidly explained to the journalist the origin of this nickname, and also told him how the bandits treated him as one of themselves; how, as soon as they were convinced that he could not remember anything he had seen or heard for two hours together, they talked freely before him of their plans and doings! The detective went on: