But the mystery was dissipated. After the inevitable panic created by this apparition of the terrible figure of Fantômas, a very real satisfaction, a genuine feeling of relief had been experienced in learning that beneath this horrid disguise was hidden the man who had pledged himself to deliver Parisian society from Fantômas! In fact there was not one of all the grand duchess’s guests but entertained in his heart a secret dread of the desperate criminal. Ever since the brigand had sworn to the Parliament to spread terror broadcast, every man felt himself more or less menaced. The American detective, by taking up the challenge thrown down by the Minister, had to some extent relieved these apprehensions, and society was grateful to him.
For half an hour the Grand Duchess Alexandra, like an accomplished hostess, had been moving through the different rooms, declining to dance herself, but finding for each an agreeable word, a gracious phrase of greeting, when in a doorway by chance she came face to face with the “Fantômas.”
“Monsieur Bob,” she was beginning, when next moment she broke off in startled surprise. And truly the great lady had good reason to be amazed. The masquer, whom she was about to congratulate once more on his clever disguise, had just committed a grave breach of etiquette. Bowing, he had, without a word, while pretending to kiss her hand, slipped a note inside her glove. Then, turning on his heels, not giving the grand duchess time to protest or answer, he had glided off among the dancers, putting between them the effective barrier of the whirling couples.
More than surprised, the grand duchess said and did what any woman would have said and done under the circumstances.
“Tom Bob dares to slip a billet doux into my hand! What insolence! Most certainly I will go and throw it down at his feet, this execrable token of bad taste!” Then she reflected that, before getting rid of the scrap of paper she could feel under her glove, it would perhaps be amusing to cast a glance at it, and, her lips curling in a disdainful smile, the grand duchess, leaving the dancing rooms for a moment, went up to her private apartment. There, hastily turning on the electric light, she hurriedly glanced at the extraordinary letter.
At first she thought she must be dreaming. The writing was not Tom Bob’s: nor was it the detective, that was certain, who had written on a corner of the paper by way of address, and there was no other, the five words, “For pity’s sake, read this!” Who was it then? Whose messenger had Tom Bob constituted himself? The grand duchess did not hesitate a second longer; unfolding the note, she read, and the contents instantly blanched her cheeks:
“Madam,” the letter ran, “you will pardon the means I take to bring myself to your notice in consideration of the feelings that prompt me. In the name of all you hold dear, in the name of whatever pity your woman’s heart may know for an unhappy lover, I beseech you to grant me your attention for a few minutes this very evening. It is no enemy who writes to you, albeit my name may make you shudder; it is an unhappy man, an unhappy being who loves a young girl whom you know, one who cherishes no hope save in the influence you can exert over her, one who, amidst these merry-makers, under the black mask that veils his features, will be impatiently waiting the moment when you shall accord him the brief interview he asks, the brief minutes of confidence he craves. Jérôme Fandor.”
Jérôme Fandor! The grand duchess thought she was dreaming, was it indeed possible it could be Jérôme Fandor who had written to her?... Jérôme Fandor, the ally of Juve? Jérôme Fandor, the implacable enemy of Fantômas? Jérôme Fandor whom all the world accused of the vilest crimes, but whom she well knew to be innocent! Jérôme Fandor, how that name evoked at once fear and pity in the breast of that beautiful and mysterious personage, the Grand Duchess Alexandra. What memories did it not call up of the saddest tragedies of her life?
Jérôme Fandor, perhaps the only living being who could possibly share with Juve the knowledge that she, the Grand Duchess Alexandra, was in reality named Lady Beltham, was in reality the mistress of Fantômas! And now it was this same Jérôme Fandor, to-day her lover’s implacable foe, to-morrow no doubt his accuser, who came asking the favour of an interview! who asked the boon in the name of love!
Lady Beltham stood trembling, her breath coming quick and fast as she read and re-read the brief note just passed to her. Then suddenly, shaking off all doubts, she made her decision. Yes, seeing it was in the name of love that Jérôme Fandor wrote, seeing he besought her pity, she would not refuse his prayer.