“The individual we are going to see?”
“Precisely, this man Tom Bob ... this Tom Bob who would seem to be Fantômas—ridiculous as the supposition may appear at first sight.”
On hearing this remark, M. Havard was suddenly afflicted with a very convenient tickling in the throat. He said nothing—the Head of the Investigation Department would, under no circumstances, have taken upon himself to contradict a Minister of State, but ... well, he coughed. And to cough, in all the languages of the world, has always indicated that a man would not be disinclined to prove his interlocutor mistaken in the opinions he is enunciating in his presence.
Observing the police official’s hesitation, the Minister insisted:
“Why, yes, Tom Bob must be Fantômas! The thing is self-evident, obvious; don’t you think so, too, Havard?”
For, impossible as it seemed to admit that Tom Bob was really Fantômas, the Minister had almost come to believe it—to wish to believe it at any rate, since the tragic events of the previous night! On the other hand, M. Havard, more accustomed to think things out coldly and impartially, to weigh the arguments for and against a proposition, was less convinced. “Events,” he reflected, “do certainly seem to show Tom Bob to be Fantômas. But there are so many facts on the other side that go to prove the contrary that we must not rush to so extravagant a conclusion. Deuce take it, Tom Bob is a police-officer—an officer of repute in America; he has already, here in Paris, since his arrival, effected some telling arrests.... No, he cannot be Fantômas! If appearances are against him, they are, after all, only appearances, probably contrived by the real Fantômas. It is true....”
M. Havard broke off his reflections to answer the Minister’s question:
“Alas! sir, in all these baffling difficulties, I really do not know what I think.”
“A very canny answer.”
“But a sincere one, sir.”