k, and then we will go through."

Juve had correctly anticipated the manoeuvre which the officer in
command of the squadron immediately proceeded to execute. Grave and
imposing, and marvellously mounted on magnificent horses, a large number
of municipal guards had just arrived on the boulevard Arago, by the side
of the Sante prison, and just where the detective and the journalist
were standing. A sharp order rang out, and the guards deployed fan-wise
and, riding knee to knee, drove the crowd back irresistibly to the end
of the avenue, utterly disregarding the angry murmur of protest, and the
general crushing that ensued.

The municipal guards were followed by troops of infantry, and these
again by gendarmes who, holding hands, moved on all who by some means or
other had managed to worm their way between the horses of the guards and
the infantry, determined at any cost to keep in the front row of
spectators.

Juve and Fandor, armed with their special passes which admitted them to
the enclosure where the guillotine actually stood, had no difficulty in
getting through the triple line. They found themselves in the centre of
a large portion of the boulevard Arago, entirely clear of spectators,
and bounded on one side by the walls of the prison, and on the other by
those of a convent.

In this clear space about a dozen individuals in black coats and silk
hats were walking about, affecting a complete indifference to what was
going to happen, although really they were profoundly affected by it.

"Chief detective-inspectors," Juve said, pointing them out: "my
colleagues. Some of yours too: do you see them? Chief reporters of the
big dailies. Are you aware that you are uncommonly lucky to have been
selected, at your extremely youthful age, to represent your paper at
this lugubrious function?"

Jerome Fandor made an odd grimace.

"I don't mind admitting to you, Juve, that I am here because I am like
you in wanting to see Gurn's head fall; you have satisfied me beyond all
doubt that Gurn is Fantomas, and I want to be sure that Fantomas is
really dead. But if it were not the execution of that one particular
wretch,--the only thing that can make society safe,--I should certainly
have declined the honour of reporting this event."

"It upsets you?"

"Yes."

Juve bent his head.

"So it does me! Just think: for more than five years I have been
fighting Fantomas! For more than five years I have believed in his
existence, in