The Minister’s powerful features wore a look of assumed indifference, but for all the man’s command of his feelings, it was plain he had passed through appalling experiences. His face was drawn and pale, and the hair above the temples seemed to have whitened! A mighty rush surged towards the Ministerial bench, each more eager than the other to express his cordial sympathy and to hear what had happened to the unfortunate Minister. The latter was explaining to those about him as much as he had been able to understand of the strange adventure, speaking hurriedly, in broken sentences. “The thing is inconceivable, insane, mad!... An attack in broad daylight, in the centre of Paris, in the middle of a crowd of people ... Resistance was useless ... I was forced into a motor cab! Once inside the vehicle, brigands gagged me, blindfolded me, bound me hand and foot. The taxi drove on and on a long, long time ... I had no notion where they were taking me.... I spent the night in a damp cellar, in cold and darkness, while a masked man, holding me all the time under threat of a revolver, tried to extort a promise of ransom from me. He talked about a million francs ... I was dumbfounded!” “Fantômas!” was the general cry, “it is Fantômas’ work!” The Minister went on: “This morning they brought me food, I was dying of hunger ... I took what they offered; then, about three o’clock, my gaoler of the previous night, masked as before, returned after being away for some minutes. He blindfolded me again, pinioned me and once more led me to a waiting motor, which drove off and only stopped at last after a long time ... I was told to get out, and two men informed me I was now a free man, while each set to work to unloose my bonds ... A few minutes after, my hands being now free, I tore away the bandage that covered my eyes and discovered I was in a wood bordering a high road. The car which had conveyed me was vanishing in the distance, carrying my captors with it. I walked straight before me till I came to the nearest house to be found, where I learnt I was on the outskirts of the Bois de Viroflay. An hour ago I was there still ... my first thought, gentlemen, was to come to the Palais-Bourbon ...” The Deputies, after listening to this extraordinary narrative, looked at one another in amazement as they exchanged ideas in excited tones. Meantime M. Monnier had drawn his colleague on one side and was showing him the letter bearing Fantômas’ signature. “What is to be done?” asked the President of the Council in much perplexity, a fine politician no doubt, but lacking in decision in times of crisis. Désiré Ferrand, in no way unmanned by the tragic adventure whereof he had been the hero, was boiling with rage and indignation. Springing to the tribune: