"Fandor!"
"Juve!"
"What does this mean, Fandor?"
"It means, Juve, that I am arrested in the place of Corporal Vinson!"
"Nothing of the sort!... I arrive from London. I arrested Vinson yesterday evening at Calais!"
Fandor laughed: he could have roared with laughter.
"My dear Juve," said he, "I should have to talk to you for two mortal hours before you would understand a word of this business!"
Fandor turned to the thunderstruck Dumoulin, and said in a voice of the most exquisite politeness:
"Commandant, I must state once for all that I am not Corporal Vinson!... I am a journalist, whom you perhaps know by name: Jérôme Fandor, on the staff of La Capitale.... If you see me in this uniform, this disguise, that relates to a series of events, details of which I will give you with pleasure, as soon as I have reduced my own ideas to order.... As things stand, I am fortunate in meeting my friend Juve, who, if you desire it, will confirm the truth of my statement."
Dumoulin, more and more nonplussed, started in turn at the detective, at the journalist, at his reporter.... With face red as a boiled lobster, he turned to Lieutenant Servin....