In a weak, trembling voice, Lady Beltham questioned:
“Speak, sir! But first, why this disguise? why, why do you, you of all men, wear that cowl?”
“Because, that mask, madam,” returned Fandor, in a broken voice, “that mask lets me remain nameless among your guests. Probably you forget, Lady Beltham, that at this present moment Jérôme Fandor is held by general consent to be a criminal. And, besides this, madam, yet another reason—you will forgive my naming it—led me to adopt this disguise. Was I not certain you would accord a few minutes’ talk to the man wearing this costume. I could not tell if it would be possible for me to give you the letter; but I felt convinced if as Fantômas I asked to speak with
you, you would not refuse your lover three minutes’ conversation.”
Lady Beltham, pale and trembling, made no reply—what answer could the unhappy lady find to give Fandor, the man who at that very time was suffering the direst torments at the hands of the real Fantômas, her lover? She could only repeat again: “Speak, sir, what do you want of me?”
“A small thing, madam,” returned Fandor, “a small thing, and yet of infinite moment—happiness. I am going to beg you to say three words—three words that will assure me the chiefest joy of my life.”
Almost on the defensive, in a voice of fear, Lady Beltham said for the third time: “Speak, sir, speak!”
“Madam,” Fandor resumed in trembling accents, “I love deeply, with all my heart and all my soul, an unhappy young girl whose name you know, for it bears a melancholy renown. Elisabeth Dollon, I mean. Madam, by your lover’s doing—nay, never protest, all denial is in vain between us—by your lover’s doing, I, I Jérôme Fandor, am deemed by Elisabeth Dollon, as by all men, to be Fantômas. She would love me if she knew me innocent, now she hates me, fears me, flies from me! Madam, I have always been to you, and even to him who is dear to you, an honourable foe, the dreadful penalty I suffer to-day as the result of the war I wage is the more cruel as it is undeserved. What hurt can it do you, Lady Beltham, what hurt can it do Fantômas, even should I enjoy a little happiness, should I win Elisabeth’s love?... This is the prayer I would make to you; she is single-hearted, she is enthusiastic, she sacrifices my life to you; madam, I pray you, I beseech you, go to Elisabeth and tell her I am not Fantômas, and that she can love me!”
Such profound feeling inspired Jérôme Fandor’s words, his voice vibrated with such deep emotion, as he spoke, that Lady Beltham herself could not help being greatly moved. Yes, Jérôme Fandor was surely right, he had always been an honourable enemy. Surely he was right again in describing his position with Elisabeth as horrible. Surely again, what harm could it do Fantômas for him to enjoy a little happiness?
Lady Beltham was touched, won over; she burst out suddenly: