“Fantômas,” declared a third, “you will not leave this place before you’ve paid up!”—and to a popular air, the whole assemblage began to growl out the refrain: “Money ... money ... money!” But now, high above the hoarse-voiced, monotonous chant, there suddenly rang out like a peacock’s scream a shrill, screeching voice, demanding: “Fantômas, tell us where you have put the stuff?” Juve was losing his first fine confidence, and though to some extent reassured by the presence of his invisible ally, he began to fear he could not keep up the bold front he had shown so far. What was he to answer now? Fortunately Fandor’s voice again whispered words of counsel, and Juve, listening with one ear to what his trusty comrade was saying, brought out in broken jerks: “The money ... my lads ... it’s not far off, it’s here ... here in this very place, under the stone flags that pave the cellar floor.” The announcement was received with shrugs of incredulous derision and cries of “You’re humbugging us!” Juve, greatly perplexed, yet obeying implicitly the instructions Fandor continued to whisper, went on: “Stop your gab, you fools! Am I the master, or am I not?” The rough, masterful words had their effect; a silence followed and Juve little by little entered into the very spirit of the part he was enacting literally impromptu. For sure, if ever Fantômas had found himself face to face with his numerous accomplices, it would have been just so he would have talked to them. The “Beadle,” rather chagrined to see his prestige diminishing, challenged the individual he took to be Fantômas: “Show us then where it is, take up the flags yourself!” But Juve stopped him with a gesture full of an impressive dignity. “Fantômas,” he cried, still prompted by his admirable coadjutor Fandor, “Fantômas scorns to work with his own hands, it is to you, you dogs, belongs the task of digging up the treasure you are going to divide amongst you.” “Proud beast!” growled the “Beadle.” But less sensitive, the rest of the apaches did not need twice telling; they were quite ready to obey the orders of the master whose high authority imposed itself upon them in spite of everything. “Bull’s-eye” and the “Gasman” sprang forward and had soon raised the two first flags—to find nothing underneath save sand. But taking advantage of the confused uproar that ensued, Fandor prompted again: “Tell them to go on, tell them to raise the third stone, and you are saved!”