“My monomania, you know! Don’t be alarmed ... You were saying, Monsieur Fandor, that people took you for Fantômas? But Fantômas is in prison; he is generally thought to be Juve, I understand?” “People don’t know what to think, sir. Certainly, two weeks ago, everybody accepted this monstrous improbability; now, in face of the new facts, they are doubtful. As for me, as you may well suppose, I have never varied in my belief. I know that Juve is Juve. You, sir, know it, too.” Again the detective nodded approval: “Certainly I do! By reputation I know Juve well; nay more, I have had occasion to pursue certain inquiries in conjunction with him. So I know he is not Fantômas. Besides which, like public opinion, Monsieur Fandor, I am for believing that if Juve _was_ Fantômas, the present crimes could not be committed ... But, after all, in what you tell me, even in your story of the strange attack of which you were the victim, I see nothing particularly novel. What would you propose to do?” Fandor’s face paled: “It is something more than a proposal, sir, that I am here to make you. When I read the announcement of your arrival, and recalled all Juve had told me in praise of Tom Bob, I congratulated myself, I say again, on the noble ally you would be for me, on the fine opportunity I had of obtaining by you, and thanks to you, Juve’s release from gaol—and that is the reason I resolved to come to you and give you the means, at the first moment after your arrival, to make a grand impression on the French police.” “I fail to understand you.” “I will explain. Once succeed in effecting an arrest, Monsieur Bob, a difficult arrest, within four and twenty hours of your arrival in Paris, and you will instantly be the hero of the day! They cannot any longer then affect in high places the same indifference the French police will certainly show towards you, chagrined as they are that you should come to help them out of their difficulty. A sensational arrest, loudly proclaimed and commended by the Press, will give you prestige, add weight to your declaration, when you come to declare, as I hope you will, that Juve is not Fantômas.” “And this arrest, Monsieur Fandor?” “This arrest, Monsieur Bob, I am going to tell you of.” Carried away by the importance of his statement, Fandor again rose to his feet. But barely a second did he retain that attitude! Quick as thought, Tom Bob sprang from his chair, fell on his knees, seized the journalist round the waist and forced him back on the floor! “Stay lying down, I tell you!” he ordered in a furious voice; “have you no nose?” “No nose?” stammered Fandor, really alarmed by the detective’s conduct. Already the latter had resumed his seat on his abbreviated chair: “Forgive me,” he said with a smile—“my monomania! only my monomania again!... You were saying?” Fandor resolved to show no more surprise at anything, and above all not to move again.