the magistrate, "we will admit that you did not
display any remarkable acumen in the Beltham case, if you would rather
have it so. That does not alter the fact that you have solved the
Langrune case."

"Solved it!"

M. Fuselier flicked the ash off his cigarette, and leant forward towards
the detective.

"Of course you know that I know you were at the Cahors Assizes, Juve?
What was your impression of the whole affair--of the verdict, and of
Etienne Rambert's guilt or innocence?"

Juve got up and began to walk up and down the room, followed by the
magistrate's eyes. He seemed to be hesitating as to whether he would
answer at all, but finally he stopped abruptly and faced his friend.

"If I were talking to anybody but you, M. Fuselier, I would either not
answer at all, or I would give an answer that was no answer! But as it
is----, well, in my opinion, the Langrune case is only just beginning,
and nothing certain is known at all."

"According to that, Charles Rambert is innocent?"

"I don't say that."

"What then? I suppose you don't think the father was the murderer?"

"The hypothesis is not absurd! But there! What is the real truth of the
whole affair? That is what I am wondering all the time. That murder is
never out of my head; it interests me more and more every day. Oh, yes,
I've got lots of ideas, but they are all utterly vague and improbable:
sometimes my imagination seems to be running away with me."

He stopped, and M. Fuselier wagged a mocking finger at him.

"Juve," he said, "I charge you formally with attempting to implicate
Fantomas in the murder of the Marquise de Langrune!"

The detective replied in the same tone of raillery.

"Guilty, my lord!"

"Good lord, man!" the magistrate exclaimed, "Fantomas is a perfect
obsession with you," and as Juve acquiesced with a laugh the magistrate
dropped his bantering tone. "Shall I tell you something, Juve? I too am
beginning to have an obsession for that fantastic miscreant! And what I
want to know is why you have not come to me before to ask me about that
sensational robbery at the Royal Palace Hotel?"

"The robbery from Princess Sonia Danidoff?"

"Yes: the Fantomas robbery!"

"Fantomas, eh?" Juve protested. "That remains to be seen."

"Why, man," M. Fuselier retorted, "you have heard that detail about the
card the man left, haven't you?--the visiting card that was blank when
the Princess found it, and on which the name of Fantomas afterwards
b