"Don't worry, my dear, I know the way. Monsieur Juve gave me his address."
At length, after a long walk, Mme. Ceiron made her climb the stairs of a decent looking house. On the way up she remembered feeling faint and that the concièrge had given her salts to smell. Following that came complete unconsciousness, out of which she woke to hear a grim menacing voice exclaim:
"I am Fantômas! I condemn you to death in the interest of my cause!"
She was in the hands of Fantômas!
And then she fainted again, but not until after a flood of light had been let into her mind. In a flash she understood that Fantômas himself must have been the mainspring of the incomprehensible events enveloping the King's visit to Paris. Furthermore, she divined that Mme. Ceiron and Fantômas were the same person. It was she who offered the salts, undoubtedly inducing her unconsciousness. The sound of a steady tic-tac she recognized as coming from a nearby clock. Where was she?
Was she really in Juve's apartment?
With a supreme effort she succeeded in turning her head a little, and in the movement the bandage over her eyes became loosened and fell off. She could see at last!
She found herself bound to a large sofa placed in the middle of a well-furnished room. Before her was placed a monstrous and sinister thing—the menacing barrel of a revolver. Its trigger was bound by a number of strings, each one ending in a nail. These were embedded in lighted wax candles, and from the nails hung a counter-weight.
It was not difficult to guess its purport.
When the candles burned down to the nails, these would become detached, releasing the counter-weights and automatically discharging the revolver aimed straight at her body. Fantômas had no need to return. His infernal cunning had found a means to kill her in his absence.