dreaming, or had
he really waked up? He did not know. And still, still he had a
consciousness of Fantomas--of mystery--of Fantomas!

Charles Rambert heard the clock strike four.

II. A TRAGIC DAWN

As his cab turned by the end of the Pont Royal towards the Gare d'Orsay,
M. Etienne Rambert looked at his watch and found, as he had anticipated,
that he had a good quarter of an hour before the train that he intended
to take was due to start. He called a porter, and gave him the heavy
valise and the bundle of rugs that formed the whole of his hand baggage.

"Where is the office for forwarding luggage, my man?" he enquired.

The porter led him through the famous panelled hall of the Gare d'Orsay,
and M. Etienne Rambert satisfied himself that his trunks had been
properly registered for Verrieres, the station at which he had to alight
for the chateau of Beaulieu.

Still attended by the porter, who had conceived a respectful admiration
for him in consequence of the authoritative tone in which he demanded
information from the various railway servants, and who scented a
probable munificent tip, M. Etienne Rambert proceeded to the
booking-office and took a first-class ticket. He spent a few minutes
more at the book-stall where he selected an imposing collection of
illustrated papers, and then, his final preparations completed, he
turned once more to the porter.

"The Luchon train," he said; "where is it?" and as the man only made a
vague gesture and growled something wholly indistinct, he added: "Lead
the way, and I will follow."

It was now just half-past eight, and the station showed all the
animation inseparable from the departure of main-line trains. M. Etienne
Rambert hurried onwards, and reaching the platform from which all the
lines begin, was stayed by the porter who was laden with his baggage.

"You want the express, sir?"

"No, the slow train, my man."

The porter showed some surprise, but made no remark.

"Do you like the front or the back of the train?"

"The back by choice."

"First-class, isn't it?"

"Yes, first-class."

The porter, who had stopped a moment, picked up the heavy valise again.

"Then there isn't any choice. There are only two first-class carriages
on the slow train, and they are both in the middle."

"They are corridor carriages, I suppose?" said Etienne Rambert.

"Yes, sir; there are hardly any others on the main-line trains,
especially first-class."

In the ever-incr