At first she thought she must be dreaming. The writing was not Tom Bob’s: nor was it the detective, that was certain, who had written on a corner of the paper by way of address, and there was no other, the five words, “For pity’s sake, read this!” Who was it then? Whose messenger had Tom Bob constituted himself? The grand duchess did not hesitate a second longer; unfolding the note, she read, and the contents instantly blanched her cheeks: “_Madam_,” the letter ran, “_you will pardon the means I take to bring myself to your notice in consideration of the feelings that prompt me. In the name of all you hold dear, in the name of whatever pity your woman’s heart may know for an unhappy lover, I beseech you to grant me your attention for a few minutes this very evening. It is no enemy who writes to you, albeit my name may make you shudder; it is an unhappy man, an unhappy being who loves a young girl whom you know, one who cherishes no hope save in the influence you can exert over her, one who, amidst these merry-makers, under the black mask that veils his features, will be impatiently waiting the moment when you shall accord him the brief interview he asks, the brief minutes of confidence he craves._ Jérôme Fandor.” Jérôme Fandor! The grand duchess thought she was dreaming, was it indeed possible it could be Jérôme Fandor who had written to her?... Jérôme Fandor, the ally of Juve? Jérôme Fandor, the implacable enemy of Fantômas? Jérôme Fandor whom all the world accused of the vilest crimes, but whom _she_ well knew to be innocent! Jérôme Fandor, how that name evoked at once fear and pity in the breast of that beautiful and mysterious personage, the Grand Duchess Alexandra. What memories did it not call up of the saddest tragedies of her life? Jérôme Fandor, perhaps the only living being who could possibly share with Juve the knowledge that she, the Grand Duchess Alexandra, was in reality named Lady Beltham, was in reality the mistress of Fantômas! And now it was this same Jérôme Fandor, to-day her lover’s implacable foe, to-morrow no doubt his accuser, who came asking the favour of an interview! who asked the boon in the name of love! Lady Beltham stood trembling, her breath coming quick and fast as she read and re-read the brief note just passed to her. Then suddenly, shaking off all doubts, she made her decision. Yes, seeing it was in the name of love that Jérôme Fandor wrote, seeing he besought her pity, she would not refuse his prayer. “My life, my unhappy life,” thought Lady Beltham, “has but one excuse—love. Whensoever I hear that name invoked, I shall be found ready to recognize the only sentiment I feel some little respect for!”