A Royal Prisoner: Fantômas Saga. Marcel Allain

Monsieur, and that ..."

      "Were you in bed when the suicide took place?"

      "No ... I was not in bed, I saw ..."

      "Ah! You saw! What did you see?"

      "Monsieur, I haven't spoken to a soul about it; in fact, I'm not sure I wasn't mistaken, it all happened so quickly.... I was getting a breath of fresh air at the window, I noticed her apartment was lighted up, I could see that through the curtains, and I said to myself, her lover must have arrived."

      "Well, what then?"

      "Then suddenly some one pulled back the hall-window curtains, then the window was flung open and I thought I saw a man holding Mlle. d'Orsel by the shoulders ... she was struggling but without crying out ... finally he threw her out of the window, then the light was extinguished and I saw nothing more."

      "But you called for help?"

      "Ah, Monsieur, I'm afraid I didn't act as I should have. I lost my head, you understand ... I left my room and was on my way downstairs to help the poor woman ... and then I heard voices, doors slamming ... I was afraid the murderer might kill me, too, so I hurried back to my room."

      "According to you, then, it was not a suicide?"

      "Oh, no, Monsieur ... I am quite sure she was thrown out of the window by some man."

      "Some man? But, Mademoiselle, you know Susy d'Orsel was alone with the King, so that man must be the King."

      Marie Pascal gave a dubious shrug.

      "You know the King?" Juve asked.

      "Yes, I sold him laces. I saw him through an open door."

      "And you are not sure that he is or is not the murderer?"

      "No, I don't know, that's why I've said nothing about it. I'm not sure of anything."

      "Pardon, Mademoiselle, but it seems to me you don't quite grasp the situation ... what is it you are not sure of?"

      "Whether it was the King who killed poor Mlle. Susy."

      "But you are sure it was a man who killed Mlle. d'Orsel?"

      "Yes, Monsieur ... and I am also sure it was a thin, tall man ... in fact, some one of the same build as the King."

      "Well, Mademoiselle, I cannot see why you have kept this knowledge to yourself, it is most important, for it does away with the theory of suicide, it proves that a crime has been committed."

      "Yes, but if it wasn't the King, it would be terrible to suspect him unjustly ... that is what stopped me ..."

      "It must no longer stop you. If the King is a murderer, he must be punished like any other man; if he is innocent, the guilty man must be caught. You haven't spoken of this to the concièrge?"

      Marie Pascal smiled.

      "No, Monsieur, Mme. Ceiron is rather a gossip."

      "I understand, but now you need keep silence no longer; in fact, I should be glad if you would spread your news ... talk of it freely and I, on my side, will notify my chief.... I may add that we shall not be long in clearing up this mystery."

      Juve had a reason for giving this advice. The more gossip, the less chance would the police department have to stifle the investigation.

      Marie Pascal slept badly that night. She was too intelligent not to realize that her deposition had convinced Juve of the guilt of the King, and this troubled her greatly. She, herself, was persuaded that she had seen the King throw Susy out of the window, although she had had no time to identify him positively and the young girl was alarmed at the importance of her testimony.

      However, she determined to follow Juve's advice and spread the gossip. With that purpose she went down to see Mother Ceiron. As the concièrge was not in her room she called through the hallway:

      "Madame Ceiron!... Madame Ceiron!"

      A man's voice answered and a laundryman came downstairs carrying a basket.

      "The concièrge is on the sixth floor, Mademoiselle. I passed her as I was going up to get M. de Sérac's laundry."

      "Ah, thank you, then I will wait for her."

      Marie Pascal took a seat in the office, but at the end of ten minutes she became bored and decided to go out and get a breath of the fresh morning air.

      As she reached the entrance she noticed an article of clothing lying on the ground.

      "A woman's chemise," she exclaimed, picking it up. "The laundryman must have dropped it."

      Then suddenly she grew pale and retraced her steps to the office.

      "Good God!" she cried, leaning for support upon the back of a chair.

1 See "A Nest of Spies."

2 See "Fantômas," Vols. I, II, III, IV.