But while his arrival was causing so great a sensation, while the company, taken by surprise, showed itself afraid, almost, panic-stricken almost, the unknown himself was advancing to greet the Grand Duchess Alexandra. Bowing low before his hostess with the manner of a finished gentleman, in a grave, but agreeable voice:
“I was told, Madame la Duchesse,” he said, “that Fantômas attended every festivity. No sooner had I landed in France than they swore to me he was afraid of nothing. That is why I did not think it needful to warn you of my coming to your fête. That is why I believed myself justified in visiting you under this ... disguise.”
The Grand Duchess’s voice trembled a little as she questioned him:
“But to whom have I the pleasure to be speaking?”
The masquer replied:
“To Fantômas, madam!”
“To Fantômas, of course!... but besides?”
Clearly it would have been discourteous to carry on the secret further. Indeed, the unknown had not failed to note the half concealed fear, the very real distress, his arrival had produced among the grand duchess’s guests. To prolong this constraint would not have been becoming; the “Fantômas” therefore answered:
“Very good, madam, as it is your pleasure to unmask me, I cannot deny your wish, and I put off my cowl ...”—and he lifted the silken folds concealing his features. Next instant a tempest of applause, a tornado of acclamation, from all present, greeted the hero of the hour. It was indeed a fine piece of daring, a splendid stroke of defiance, something quite Parisian and cynical, this grim disguise adopted by the man who wore it. In the half minute he stood there unmasked, he had been recognized. The masquer who had put on the outward semblance of Fantômas was no other than Fantômas’ declared enemy, no other than Tom Bob!
Meantime the latter was bowing right and left, then glided swiftly among the groups of his acquaintance, grasping the men’s hands, kissing the ladies’, a very gallant gentleman. A curious thing, too, to observe that, while these fashionable men and women would never have condescended to clasp hands with a common inspector of the French Investigation Bureau, they were making much of Tom Bob, just because he was a foreigner. True, he had originally joined the police as an amateur, out of curiosity and for the sake of amusement, and it was only by degrees, after a series of notable successes, that he had become a professional detective—and the fact was not forgotten.