but."...
"Is it correct that you learned just then that one could define the Second Bureau as the world of spies, and that you were extremely struck by this, extremely surprised?"
"That is so, Juve. It is precisely because I had this information, and was able to get a fair knowledge of the terrible secrets existing in this dark Government department, that I am in a position now to ascribe the Brocq affair to the action of some group of spies."
"Your hobby again, Fandor! The assassination of the captain has occurred under such circumstances that it can only be imputed to Fantômas. Let us look the truth in the face! We are going to enter into a fresh struggle with Fantômas! That is a certainty!"
"It's your hobby now, Juve! There's no Fantômas in this affair. No! We are face to face with a very serious business, there I agree with you; but it is wholly a spy job — nothing else!"
Getting up, the journalist added:
"This very evening I shall publish in La Capitale an article in which I shall explain exactly what spies are, the real part they play in the body politic, their terrible power; that it is a mistake to consider them only cowards; that owing to the exigencies of their sinister profession, they very often give proof of an exceptional courage — bravery — and in which I shall."...
With a shrug, Juve interrupted:
"In which you will write nonsense, old boy.... Anyhow, you are free!"
"That's true! Free to spend a fortnight in the Sunny South, where I shall be in a few hours' time! Anyhow, read my article in La Capitale; I tell you I am going to take a lot of trouble over it!"...
"A fortnight hence, then, Juve!" He added in a bantering tone:
"Don't dream too much of Fantômas.... What!"
2 See The Exploits of Juve, vol. ii, Fantômas Series.
VI
CORPORAL VINSON
With one knee resting on his portmanteau, Jérôme Fandor was pulling with all the force of his powerful arms at the straps in order to buckle them up.
It was Sunday, November the thirteenth, and five o'clock in the afternoon. The flat was brilliantly illuminated, and the greatest disorder reigned throughout.
At last Fandor was off for his holiday! Not to risk losing his train, our journalist meant to dine at the Lyons railway station.
"Ouf!" cried he, when he had succeeded in cramming his mass of garments sufficiently tight, and had then closed the portmanteau.
Fandor uttered a sigh of satisfaction. This time there could be no doubt about his departure — the thing was certain. He was casting a final glance round when he stopped short in the middle of the passage.
The door-bell had been rung: evidently someone was at the entrance door. Who was it? What was it? Had something arisen which was going to prevent his departure? He went quickly to the door. He opened it to find a soldier on the landing.
"Monsieur Fandor?" he enquired in a gentle, rather husky voice.
"Yes. What is it you want?" replied the journalist crossly.
The soldier came forward a step: then, as if making an effort, he articulated painfully:
"Will you permit me to enter? I am most anxious to speak to you."
Fandor, with a movement of the hand, signified that the importunate stranger might come inside. He observed the man closely. He was quite young, and wore infantry uniform: his stripes were those of a corporal. His hair was brown, and his light eyes were in marked contrast to the much darker tones of his face. A slight moustache shaded his lip.
The corporal followed Fandor into his study, and stood still with an embarrassed air. The journalist considered him an instant, then asked:
"To whom have I the honour of speaking?"
This question appeared to tear the soldier from a kind of dream. He jumped, then mechanically stood at attention, as if before a superior officer.
"I am Corporal Vinson."
Fandor nodded, tried to remember him, but in vain. The name told him nothing....
"I have not the honour to be known to you, Monsieur, but I know you very well through your articles."
Then he continued in almost a supplicating tone:
"I greatly need speech with you, Monsieur."...
"Another bore," said Fandor to himself, "who wants to get me to give him a recommendation of some sort!"
Our journalist boiled with impatience at the thought of the precious minutes he was losing. He would have to cut his dinner short if he did not wish to miss the night express. Nevertheless, wishing to lessen the unpleasant reception he had given this unwelcome visitor, he murmured in a tone which was cold, all the same:
"Pray be seated, Monsieur: I am listening to you!"
Corporal Vinson seemed greatly agitated.
The invitation was evidently very opportune, for the visitor let himself fall heavily into an arm-chair. Great drops of perspiration were on his forehead, his lips were pallid: at intervals he looked at the journalist, whose impassible countenance did not seem to invite confidences. The poor trooper lost countenance more and more: Fandor remained silent.
At last Vinson managed to say, in a voice strangling with emotion:
"Ah! Monsieur, excuse me for having come to disturb you like this, but I was determined to tell you ... to know you — to express to you ... how I appreciate your talent, your way of writing ... how I like the ideas you express in your paper!... There was your last article, so just, so ... charitable!"
"You are very kind, Monsieur," interrupted Fandor, "and I am much obliged to you; but, if it is the same to you, we might arrange a meeting for another day, because now I am very pressed for time."...
Fandor made as if to rise to emphasise his statement; but Corporal Vinson, far from imitating the movement, sank deeper and deeper in the large arm-chair, into which he had literally fallen a few minutes before, and with an accent of profound anguish, for he understood Fandor's desire to shorten the conversation, he cried with a groan:
"Ah, Monsieur, do not send me away! If I keep silence now, I shall never have the courage to speak — but I must."...
The soldier's countenance was so full of alarm that Fandor regretted his first movement of ill-temper, his show of impatience. Perhaps this man had interesting things to say! He must give the fellow confidence. Fandor smiled.
"Very well," he suggested amiably, "let us have a talk if you really wish it."...
Corporal Vinson
