“And for me,” she vociferated in her screaming voice, “why don’t they question me? ask me what I’m good for? Well, I’m going to tell you, whether or no. Hear me, Fantômas, and you, mates, too. The man who lies rotting there, down there in the fat, damp earth, the man who lies rotting there, bone naked, uncoffined, well, that’s my work, mine! Fantômas,” she persisted, “it was me did the hardest job of all. By Père Moche’s orders, I sought out this man on the open sea aboard the liner _La Lorraine_. I boarded the big ship when the tug brought out her pilot to them; slipping on deck when no one was looking, I crept down to the fellow’s cabin. I had no weapon, and I was only an old woman against a man in the prime of life. Well, I was a match for him all the same; I sprang at his face, and with my bare teeth I tore out his throat! To stop his blood fouling the carpet, I licked it up with my tongue. The man fell dead without a cry. Then I sewed him up in a big sack, and when we got near port, I pitched him into the water. Next night, with Père Moche to help, we fished up the body, poking about with a long pole in the mud at bottom of the dock-basin. And for three days did I cart the carrion about, till I buried it with my own hands under the flags in this cave here! That’s what I did, Fantômas, I, a poor old woman; say, have I the guts, am I brave, or am I not?” Without the quiver of a muscle, Juve had listened to the appalling confession of the hideous virago. “This dead man,” he asked in a low, broken voice, “who was he?” But suddenly there rose an urgent cry of “Hush! hush!” The apaches had heard unusual sounds, the tramp of footsteps in the distance. By the wan, feeble light that filtered in through a grated opening on a level with the ground outside, the crowd could see one another’s repulsive faces drawn with anxiety. Already half suppressed vows of vengeance began to be heard. Fandor was terrified; what was to happen next? Was Juve, after escaping the gravest of his dangers, finally to fall a victim to Fantômas’ fury? Was it he, the real Fantômas, that was coming? But Juve with superb audacity, an admirable effrontery, commanded: “Silence, all of you, and don’t budge! if it is Fantômas alone they are after, Fantômas will defend himself alone, if it is all of us they are looking for, Fantômas will be at your head to defend you and triumph over our enemies; hush, do not speak, do not stir!” Slowly Juve pushed through the throng and made for the door of the cellar. He tried to open it; it was locked fast! “The key,” he demanded. The “Beadle” advanced grumbling: “Here it is,” he said, “what to do now?” “Open,” ordered the inspector. “You are leaving us, Fantômas?” he was asked. “I am keeping guard over you,” replied Juve boldly. Then he left the cellar, but did not go away. Between him and the apaches now stood the heavy door secured by an outside bolt the officer had shot with his own hands.