Juve was in his study smoking a cigarette. It was nine in the evening. The door leading to the lobby opened and Fandor walked in. "All right, this evening?" "All right. What brings you here, Fandor?" The journalist smiled and pointed to a calendar on the wall: "The fact that--it's this evening, Juve." "The date fixed by Chaleck or Fantômas for my demise. To-morrow morning I am to be found in my bed, strangled, crushed, or something of the sort. I suppose you've come to get a farewell interview for _La Capitale_. To gather the minutest details of the frightful crime so that you can publish a special edition. '_The tragedy in Rue Bonaparte! Juve overcome by Fantômas!_'" Fandor listened, amused at the detective's outburst. "You'd be angry with me, Juve," he declared, in the same jocular strain, "for passing by such a sensational piece of news, wouldn't you?" "That is so. And then I own I expected my last evening to be a lonely one, there was a feeling of sadness at the bottom of my heart. I thought that before dying I should have liked to say farewell to young Fandor, whose life I am continually putting in peril by my crazy ventures, but whom I love as the surest of companions, the sagest of advisers, the most discreet of confidants." Fandor was touched. With a spontaneous movement he sprang to the armchair in which Juve sat, seized and wrung the detective's hands. "What?" "I shall stay here. You don't suppose I'm going to leave you to pass this night alone?" Juve, touched beyond measure by Fandor's words, seemed uncertain what he ought to decide. "I can't pretend, Fandor, that your presence is not agreeable, and I'm grateful to you for your sympathy; I knew I could count on you: but after all, lad, we must look ahead and consider all contingencies. Fantômas may succeed! Now you know what I have set out to do; if I should fail, I should like to think that you would carry on the work as my successor and put an end to Fantômas." "But, Juve, you are threatened by Fantômas; that is why I am here to help you." "Well, I have no bed to put you in." Fandor, taken aback, stared at the detective. The latter rose and began walking about the room, then turned sharply and gazed at the young man: "You are quite determined to stay with me?" "Yes." "And if I bade you go?" "I should disobey you." "Very well, then," concluded Juve, shrugging his shoulders, "come along and light me." The detective passed out of the apartment and made for the stairs. "Where are we bound for?" asked Fandor. "The garret," Juve replied. A quarter of an hour later Juve and Fandor dragged into the bedroom a huge open-work wicker-basket. "Whew!" cried Juve, mopping his forehead, "no one would believe it was so heavy." Fandor smiled. "It's full of rubbish. Really, Juve, you are not a tidy man!" Juve, without reply, proceeded to empty the basket, pulling out books, linen, pieces of wood, carpet, rolls of paper; in fact, the accumulated refuse of fifteen years.