"Sir!" A terrified voice called from outside.
Juve rushed to the window. A dripping creature, clad in black from head to foot, crossed the garden, running toward the servants' quarters. It was Fantômas. Juve swore a great oath: "There he is! Getting away!"
The detective left his cry unfinished.
As he issued by the air-holes, Fantômas leaped forward. He was free!
"Juve scored the first game, the second is mine," he cried.
He reached the woodshed. With a practised hand he turned the electric tap which ignited a spark in the dark closet behind the pantry.
"I win!" shouted Fantômas, as a terrible explosion made itself heard.
The earth shook, a huge column of black smoke rose skywards, explosion followed explosion. The roar of falling walls was mingled with fearful cries and dying groans.
Lady Beltham's villa had been blown up, burying under its ruins the hapless men who in their pursuit of Fantômas had ventured too near. Assuredly this arch-criminal had got away once more. But were Juve and Fandor among the dead?