M. Havard indeed—from Tom Bob’s answers he had quite well gathered, or at any rate guessed, what Fantômas probably said—was thinking deeply.
“Oh!” he declared at last, “yes, I shall certainly go; but it will be without over much belief in the thing.”
“Why so?”
“Because ... because it was a practical joker telephoned you.”
“A practical joker? No, I don’t think that.”
“I do!” declared M. Havard, who was getting annoyed, “yes, a practical joker! a practical joker, I repeat, for, look you, there is one thing you are forgetting, that we are all forgetting at present, a fact that is certain, indisputable ...”
“To wit?”
“Why, that Fantômas is in prison, that Fantômas is in the Santé, and that consequently he could not have done murder yesterday, he cannot be telephoning to you now, it will be impossible for him to be at the Azaïs to-morrow
!”
The Minister, who for the last few minutes had been getting more and more impatient, laid his hand on M. Havard’s shoulder.