“Madam,” a voice was saying, a voice Fandor recognized with a startled exclamation to be that of M. Havard, “madam, the step I am taking to-day, believe me, is official; but in any case I think you will be ready to do as I desire.” “Speak, sir.” “You have recently, madam, taken the initiative in organizing a public subscription with the object of collecting the sum demanded by Fantômas as the condition of his disappearance, and refused him by the Chamber. That is so, is it not? you admit the fact?” Haughtily the grand duchess assented. “Yes, sir, that is so. I will even add that the money is beginning to come in.” “Madam,” resumed M. Havard, “I do not know what motive prompted you ...” The grand duchess did not let the Head of the Criminal Bureau finish his sentence. “The motives that prompted me are quite simple,” she said; “the Chamber has refused to accept Fantômas’ ultimatum. That brigand, recoiling at nothing, now that Parliament has refused his demands, is adding crime to crime, piling atrocity on atrocity. What the Government declines to approve, it struck me as incumbent on private initiative to carry out. Fantômas the murderer promises he will kill no more if he is paid a million francs. What more natural, Monsieur Havard, than to open a general subscription to provide this million? to put Fantômas in a position to fulfil his undertaking? to induce him to halt in his sanguinary and deadly career?” M. Havard did not answer at once; after some moments thought, however, he took up the word: “Natural it may have been, madam, I have no wish to gauge the morality of the motives that may have led you to start this subscription; but I am bound to note the consequences of your action.” “And they, Monsieur Havard, are?” “Deplorable, madam, deplorable!” “But, sir!... It is a reign of terror. The vilest abominations are of daily occurrence; crime follows crime, each more terrifying than the last, more monstrous, assuming even the character of crimes against the state. I believe my subscription will quickly prove a success, that I shall soon raise the sum of money required, that soon Fantômas will disappear. That is no deplorable result, is it?” M. Havard had one of the little coughing fits he so frequently suffered from and which commonly served to disguise his embarrassments. “What is deplorable,” he said at last, in a peevish tone, “is the fact that this subscription of yours, madam, makes my duties a farce, renders the French police ridiculous. How can we consent to Fantômas being paid to do us the favour to leave off murdering? He is an assassin! he should be arrested, that’s all there is to it.” In a tone almost of mockery, certainly of irony, the grand duchess protested: “But, Monsieur Havard, you don’t arrest him!” “No,” confessed the Head of the Bureau, “no, not yet! But we shall arrest him.” A silence followed, which Lady Beltham at last broke, to say: “So that, according to you ...”