Marcel Allain - Fantomas

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in this text.For a complete list, please see .

Bibliographical Note

This Dover edition, first published in 2006, isan unabridged republication of the
work first published by Brentano's Publishers Inc., New York, in1915.

International Standard Book Number:0-486-44971-8

Manufactured in the United States ofAmerica
Dover Publications, Inc., 31 East 2nd Street, Mineola, N.Y.11501

[Pg iii]

[Pg iv]

[1]

"Fantmas."

"What did you say?"

"I said: Fantmas."

"And what does that mean?"

"Nothing.... Everything!"

"But what is it?"

"Nobody.... And yet, yes, it is somebody!"

"And what does the somebody do?"

"Spreads terror!"

Dinner was just over, and the company were moving into thedrawing-room.

Hurrying to the fireplace, the Marquise de Langrune took a largelog from a basket and flung it on to the glowing embers on thehearth; the log crackled and shed a brilliant light over the wholeroom; the guests of the Marquise instinctively drew near to thefire.

During the ten consecutive months she spent every year at herchteau of Beaulieu, on the outskirts of Corrze, that picturesquedistrict bounded by the Dordogne, it had been the immemorial customof the Marquise de Langrune to entertain a few of her personalfriends in the neighbourhood to dinner every Wednesday, therebyobtaining a little pleasant relief from her loneliness and keepingup some contact with the world.

On this particular winter evening the good lady's guestsincluded several habitus: President Bonnet, a retired magistratewho had withdrawn to his small property at Saint-Jaury, inthe [2] suburbs ofBrives, and the Abb Sicot, who was the parish priest. A moreoccasional friend was also there, the Baronne de Vibray, a youngand wealthy widow, a typical woman of the world who spent thegreater part of her life either in motoring, or in the mostexclusive drawing-rooms of Paris, or at the most fashionablewatering-places. But when the Baronne de Vibray put herself out tograss, as she racily phrased it, and spent a few weeks atQuerelles, her estate close to the chteau of Beaulieu, nothingpleased her better than to take her place again in the delightfulcompany of the Marquise de Langrune and her friends.

Finally, youth was represented by Charles Rambert, who hadarrived at the chteau a couple of days before, a charming lad ofabout eighteen who was treated with warm affection by the Marquiseand by Thrse Auvernois, the granddaughter of the Marquise, withwhom since her parents' death she had lived as a daughter.

The odd and even mysterious words spoken by President Bonnet asthey were leaving the table, and the personality of this Fantmasabout which he had said nothing definite in spite of all thequestions put to him, had excited the curiosity of the company, andwhile Thrse Auvernois was gracefully dispensing the coffee to hergrandmother's guests the questions were renewed with greaterinsistence. Crowding round the fire, for the evening was very cold,Mme. de Langrune's friends showered fresh questions upon the oldmagistrate, who secretly enjoyed the interest he had inspired. Hecast a solemn eye upon the circle of his audience and prolonged hissilence, the more to capture their attention. At length he began tospeak.

"Statistics tell us, ladies, that of all the deaths that areregistered every day quite a third are due to crime. You are nodoubt aware that the police discover about half of the crimes thatare committed, and that barely half meet with the penalty ofjustice. This explains how it is that so many mysteries are nevercleared up, and why there are so many mistakes and inconsistenciesin judicial investigations."

"What is the conclusion you wish to draw?" the Marquise deLangrune enquired with interest. [3]

"This," the magistrate proceeded: "although many crimes passunsuspected it is none the less obvious that they have beencommitted; now while some of them are due to ordinary criminals,others are the work of enigmatical beings who are difficult totrace and too clever or intelligent to let themselves be caught.History is full of stories of such mysterious characters, the IronMask, for instance, and Cagliostro. In every age there have beenbands of dangerous creatures, led by such men as Cartouche andVidocq and Rocambole. Now why should we suppose that in our time noone exists who emulates the deeds of those mighty criminals?"

The Abb Sicot raised a gentle voice from the depths of acomfortable arm-chair wherein he was peacefully digesting hisdinner.

"The police do their work better in our time than ever they didbefore."

"That is perfectly true," the president admitted, "but theirwork is also more difficult than ever it was before. Criminals whooperate in the grand manner have all sorts of things at theirdisposal nowadays. Science has done much for modern progress, butunfortunately it can be of invaluable assistance to criminals attimes; the hosts of evil have the telegraph and the motor-car attheir disposal just as authority has, and some day they will makeuse of the aeroplane."