Fandor recognised them instantly.
Leaning against the bed, a gash in his cheek, was Monsieur Barbey.
Lying on the floor, apparently half dead, was Monsieur Nanteuil.
Calmly lighting a candle was the telephone workman. He alone seemed unmoved.
Fandor threw down his revolver and, coolly marching to the door, locked it.
Monsieur Barbey followed the journalist with a look. He made a gesture of discouragement and pointed to the window: its panes were smashed to pieces.
"We are tricked—done!" he said. "The assassin has got away!"
But Fandor, with a shrug, marched up to the window, returned, and said in a matter-of-fact tone:
"It is impossible that Fantômas could have made his escape that way!"
The workman nodded gravely.