“It was not a bomb.”
“Not a bomb? What was it then?”
“A shot fired by Fantômas.”
“By Fantômas?”
“Precisely, by Fantômas.”
The other’s calm was so wonderful, his imperturbability so complete, that Fandor felt almost ashamed of himself to be so profoundly agitated. Once again he called upon his strength of will power and mastered his feelings. In a quiet voice he asked:
“Well then, sir, what has happened? Why did you ask me to mark just that height on the wall? You guessed?...”
Tom Bob, hands in pockets, was looking up at the top of a tall wardrobe.
“I did not guess anything,” he said. “I never guess, I infer.”
“But what have you inferred then?”