“Where is he gone!” Lady Beltham eagerly questioned M. Havard and Tom Bob, who had run up on hearing the cries. She had not recognized Fandor, but on the other hand she knew it was not Fantômas who had shown himself. Instinctively she pointed in the direction in which the journalist had taken to flight.
Thereupon followed a veritable man-hunt, duly organized. Blowing a shrill whistle, M. Havard called up his men, scattered more or less everywhere about the island.
“Fantômas is there” he yelled, “he has just swum over.... Dead or alive he must be taken, dead or alive!”
Not a clump of trees but was searched. The waters of the lake, no longer aflame, looked dark and gloomy as before, clouds of soot made the air oppressive to breathe, the only light to help the officers in their frantic search came from some trees that were still burning on the bank of the lake. From all sides sounded cries, shouts, exclamations. For Fandor was now in full flight before the pursuing myrmidons of the law.
What did it all mean? He was far from having any clear conception of this. Once more Fantômas had laid his plans marvellously well; once more Fortune had favoured him. He it was, Fandor could surely guess, who had contrived that Tom Bob and M. Havard were on the island at the very moment the lake was to burst into flame. Fantômas had of course felt no doubt that Fandor, prowling about the neighbourhood waiting to know the result of Lady Beltham’s visit, would be one of the first to make a dash for the island. In this way he would tumble into a regular trap.
Fandor was in full flight, seeing everywhere men hunting for him, revolver in hand, for the scattered conflagrations, dying down one by one, still afforded some light.
“By the Lord!” he thought to himself, “I have no choice. I must take to the water, stay as long as possible out in the middle of the lake; it’ll be the devil’s own luck if I don’t manage to put them off the scent.” But at that moment a ball whistled past his ear. He had imprudently come too close, an officer had caught sight of him and fired.
“Damnation!” muttered the young man, springing back sharply, “it seems a price is set on my head.”
“There! there, I tell you! God Almighty, give me a revolver!” The pursuit was still hot, when suddenly a splash was heard in the water. The police officers gathered in a crowd; “He’ll get away! and never a boat!”
But one of the men was equal to the occasion; “‘Dead or alive!’ M. Havard told us we were to capture Fantômas dead or alive! By God! it was childish to spare his life when we had him at our mercy. A volley!” cried the man, “Fire, all together!”