His heart and soul were in his journalistic work. Of an enquiring turn of mind, Fandor had not been content with the episodic work of a mere reporter: he eagerly pursued the guilty, took a lively interest in the victims, and became Juve's valuable collaborator, with whom the bonds of friendship strengthened day by day.
Thus Fandor, in Juve's company, was drawn into the hurly-burly, into the troubles and torments of criminal affairs so mysterious, so phenomenal, that, for several years in succession, they created a sensation, not only in Paris but throughout France.
He constituted himself one of the most implacable enemies of Fantômas. The more so, because he was satisfied that the "Genius of Crime," as this monster had been called, had had a considerable share in the vicissitudes and troubles of his own life. Fandor felt that this monster's sinister influence was still being exercised against him.
Too often, in those wakeful hours when he reviewed his life, following the course of it in a kind of mental cinematograph, did Fandor think of Elizabeth Dollon. It was with sad yet sweet emotion, with a piercing regret, but with an unfailing hope, that he saw before his inner vision the charming, the adored face, and figure of Elizabeth Dollon, for whom he had felt, and felt still, an affection profound and sincere. He loved her: he would always love her.[10]
[10] See Messengers of Evil: vol. iii, Fantômas Series.
He thought of her brother's death and the extraordinary disappearance of his body, of his own pursuit of the assassin, of the discovery, made with Juve, that the murderer of Jacques Dollon was none other than the elusive Fantômas.
Assuredly that ill-omened bandit was responsible for the sudden departure of Elizabeth, immediately after Fandor had obtained from her charming lips the sweet avowal of her love.... He owed to Fantômas that he had been unable to join his life to that of this exquisite girl: to Fantômas he owed it that he could not trace her to her unknown retreat. Was she still in the land of the living? It was ultimately to Fantômas that he owed his present dreadful position—to this thrice accursed Genius of Crime—Fantômas.
That evening Fandor's absorbing reflections were broken into by the turning of a key in the lock of his cell at an unusual hour. Through the half-opened door he heard the close of a conversation between his jailor and an unknown person.
"I also give notice, my good fellow, that my secretary will come to join me presently," said the strange voice. The jailor replied: