e bandit, Fantomas?

These Nihilists had for Trokoff an admiration beyond the bounds of
reason. How could he show up Trokoff as he really was?

It would be madness to attempt it!

For Fandor divined that behind the mask of Trokoff lurked the evil
countenance of Fantomas--Fantomas who was gloating over his confusion
and despair, rejoicing in his agony, counting on his collapse, hoping
for some act of cowardice.

Never would Jerome Fandor play the coward!

At this stake to which they had bound him he would die without a
sound! Fandor drove back from his lips the cry of despair they were
about to utter. He awaited the event.

A Nihilist broke from the circle, went up to Fandor.

"Fantomas! You have heard? You are about to die! What have you to say
in your defence?"

Fandor was dumb.

"Fantomas! You would die unknown! But it is good that we, having gazed
on your face, should be appeased when we see you dead!... Your hood
and mask--I tear them off you!"

Trokoff rushed forward, crying:

"Do not lay hands on him!... This wretch belongs to me!"

Turning to his fellow-conspirators, Trokoff demanded:

"My hand should strike the fatal blow! I brought him here! The right
is mine!"

Trokoff continued, in a quieter tone:

"The police may have been warned of our gathering here! We are spied
on, tracked! You know it well!... Suppose we stay to watch the dying
agony of this wretch! Suppose the police descend upon us! They will
snatch from us our just revenge and will arrest us all!... Hand over
this monster to me and leave the place. If the police are watching you
they will see you go!... Leave Fantomas to me, that, at my leisure, I
may see him die as he deserves to die!"

Fandor shuddered: so a lingering agony, a fearful death was to be
faced!... Yes, Fantomas meant to torture him, extract from his victim
some appeal for pity, for the mercy this monster in human form could
never know nor exercise! Yes, Fantomas had changed his plans: rid of
the Nihilists, he could have it all his own way with Fandor!

The disciples, as with one voice, cried:

"We are thy faithful followers. What thou ordainest that we do!"...

Trokoff turned to Fandor. He shook a threatening fist in Fandor's
face.

"Collect yourself.... You are to pay the price of expiation soon!"

This menace hurled at his victim, Trokoff drew his fanatical partisans
together, made them quit the studio, and vanished with them....

"He will return," though