What she had seen must have been something to cause both terror and despair, for Lady Beltham turned deadly pale, her splendid arms beat the air, she staggered and fell flat on the floor in a dead swoon. The look she had directed into the adjoining room and which had, in fact, determined her fainting fit, had passed unnoticed by the unfortunate young Englishman, too much preoccupied and agitated to observe the details of what was happening before his eyes. But now, seeing Lady Beltham’s condition, he hurried to her side and endeavoured to restore her to consciousness. His efforts proved vain, and shocked and alarmed, he rang the bell in the anteroom and called loudly for help. Servants appeared in answer to his summons; Lady Beltham was laid on a couch and restoratives applied. In ten minutes, by slow degrees, the unhappy woman began to regain her senses. But suddenly the tense silence was broken by the sound of shots. Lady Beltham shuddered and grew paler than ever. “Great heavens!” she asked, “what is happening?” Ascott could not tell her; the servants gathered about their mistress stood rooted to the spot in dumb bewilderment. * * * * * Fantômas, when he left Lady Beltham waiting to receive Ascott, had his plan already cut and dried. The desperate villain realized that the game was up, beyond redemption. Unmasked so far as Moche was concerned, he was no less so in his incarnation as Tom Bob—but only in the minds of Juve, of Fandor, and of Lady Beltham. For one brief instant the criminal had debated with himself what course was best to adopt. The moment was surely near at hand when he must either take to flight and disappear, or play his last desperate card, defy the world and maintain that he was indeed Tom Bob and no one else. But would that suffice? Still, Fantômas would have risked everything on this last chance, had he not had an opponent as cunning as himself, and now free to act. He knew, in fact, that from one minute to the next he might find himself face to face with Juve—not Juve, the ordinary adversary he had been before, but Juve proved innocent of the crimes he was accused of, Juve his character rehabilitated in all men’s eyes, Juve with power and authority fortified by the priceless, invaluable collaboration of the whole police force of France. After coldly weighing his chances of victory against those of defeat, Fantômas decided for flight. Still the hardy scoundrel did not go at once. Examining the room where he was, he noted a safe embedded in the wall. An evil smile crossed his pallid lips; cynically he muttered: “So the Grand Duchess Alexandra has constituted herself treasurer of the fund for the good souls who were for subscribing Fantômas’ million! Fantômas,” he went on with a vile grin, “would be a simpleton indeed not to pay to himself what is meant for him.”