Then as he put this query to himself, Juve shook from head to foot. Like a thunderclap he thought he grasped the truth he had followed so eagerly. What had become of Lady Beltham? Must he not come to the conclusion that this woman whose face had been crushed out of all recognition by the murderer was none other than the lady? How else explain the discovery in her bodice of the betraying document? Who but she could have had it in her possession? Who else could have so sedulously concealed it? Juve read over another clause: "I will tell him it is deposited in a safe place." Feverishly Juve took up the garments trailing on the ground, carefully explored the fabric, made a minute search. "It is impossible," he thought, "that I should not find another document. The beginning of this confession--I must have it!" All at once he stopped short in his search. "Curse it all!" And he pointed out to M. Fuselier, disguised in the lining of a loose pocket in the petticoat--a fresh hiding place, but torn and alas! empty. This woman had split up her confession into several portions. And if she was killed it was certainly to strip her of these compromising papers. Well, the murderer had attained his object. "Look, Fuselier, this empty 'cache' is the proof of what I put forward, and chance alone allowed the page concealed in the collar of this bodice to fall into my hands." Long did the detective still grope and ponder, heedless of the questions the professor and the magistrate kept asking him. He rose at last, and with a distracted gesture took the arm of M. Fuselier, and dragged him before the stone slab on which the corpse, but recently unknown, smiled a ghastly smile. "M. Fuselier, the dead woman has spoken. She is Lady Beltham. This is the body of Lady Beltham!" The magistrate recoiled in horror. He murmured: "But who then can Doctor Chaleck be? Who can Loupart be?" Juve replied without hesitation. "Ask Fantômas the names of his accomplices!" And leaving him and Doctor Ardel without any farewell Juve rushed from the Morgue, his features so distorted that as they passed him people drew aside, amazed and murmuring: "A madman or a murderer!" XVIII FANTÔMAS' VICTIM "You understand my object, Fandor? Hitherto I have worked unaided. I wanted to unearth Fantômas and bring him to Headquarters, saying to my superiors, 'For three years you have maintained this man was dead; well, here he is! I have put the darbies on the most terrible ruffian of modern times.' Well, I must forego my little triumph. We must now work in the open. Public opinion must come to our aid." "Then you want me to write my article?" "Yes, and tell all the details; wind up by putting the question squarely. 'Is not Fantômas still alive?' Then sum up in the affirmative. Now, be off. I want to read your article this evening in the _Capital_."