Fandor leapt to his feet.
"It's true!" he cried. "I had quite forgotten it!... But it is of no importance by the side of ..."
Juve interrupted.
"The affair is serious, Fandor, attention!... Do you remember? It is the formula I employed on two or three occasions, when warning you, after the assassination of Jacques Dollon, after the attack on Sonia Danidoff at Thomery's house...."
"What! It was you, Juve!" cried Fandor.
"Yes, it was ... but let us pass on! Time presses. I am going to disappear anew; but you now know where to find me, in future, and under what form, should occasion require it. Cranajour I am; Cranajour I remain—for the time being, at any rate. As to you, Fandor, be off with you at once ... and go and hatch out that article of yours!"
Our journalist rose mechanically; but Juve, thinking better of it, caught him by the arm, drew him back and pointed out the writing-table.
"Come to think of it, you know nothing about the affair, and I do: there are things which should be said, above all things, to be hinted at ... do you wish me to give you information?... Sit yourself there, my lad: I am going to dictate your article to you!"
Our journalist, understanding the gravity of the situation, and well knowing that if Juve took this course, he had important reasons for so doing, did not say one word. He simply brought out his fountain pen, screwed it ready for action, and, with his hand resting on a pile of white paper, he waited.
Juve dictated.