The Minister seemed to be living in a nightmare; he thought he was dreaming, perhaps going demented, and it was in a weak voice he answered:
“But it’s a joke, all this, eh, Mr. Bob? It is not Fantômas ’phoning to you, come now!”
The detective shrugged: “Not Fantômas?” he said. “Then who is it?... who do you think it is?”
“Fantômas would never tell you beforehand he was going to commit a crime at this restaurant in the Bois.”
“Pooh! if he’s sure, once more, of not being arrested?”
“No matter that! it would be too audacious; come, now, Mr. Bob, you won’t go?”
“Oh, yes! I shall, sir! I shall be there.”
The Minister was thinking; suddenly he went on:
“Well, if you go, by all I hold most sacred, I will go too! Yes, I will go! it shall never be said ...”
Tom Bob turned to M. Havard: “And you, my dear colleague, will you come? You seem pensive for the moment?”