243

XXIX. COMPROMISING DISCOVERIES 250

XXX. SHADOWED 256

XXXI. THE DEATH WATCH 264

XXXII. THE ARREST OF FANTOMAS 270

A ROYAL PRISONER

CHAPTER I

A ROYAL JAG

"After all, why not celebrate? It's the last day of the year and it
won't come again for twelve months."

It was close upon midnight.

Jerome Fandor, reporter on the popular newspaper, _La Capitale_, was
strolling along the boulevard; he had just come from a banquet, one of
those official and deadly affairs at which the guests are obliged to
listen to interminable speeches. He had drowsed through the evening and
at the first opportunity had managed to slip away quickly.

The theatres were just out and the boulevard was crowded with people
intent on making a night of it. Numberless automobiles containing the
fashionable and rich of Paris blocked the streets. The restaurants were
brilliantly illuminated, and as carriages discharged their occupants
before the doors, one glimpsed the neat feet and ankles of daintily clad
women as they crossed the sidewalk and disappeared inside, following
their silk-hatted escorts, conscious of their own importance.

Many years of active service in Paris as chief reporter of _La Capitale_
had brought Jerome Fandor in touch with a good third of those who
constitute Parisian society, and rarely did he fail to exchange a nod, a
smile, or half a dozen words of friendly greeting whenever he set foot
out of doors.

But in spite of his popularity he led a lonely life--many acquaintances,
but few close friends. The great exception was Juve, the celebrated
detective.

In fact, Fandor's complex and adventurous life was very much bound up
with that of the police officer, for they had worked together in solving
the mystery of many tragic crimes.

On this particular evening, the reporter became gradually imbued with
the general spirit of gaiety and abandon which surrounded him.

"Hang it," he muttered, "I might go and hunt up Juve and drag him off to
supper, but I'm afraid I should get a cool reception if I did. He is
probably sleeping the sleep of the just and would strongly object to
being disturbed. Anyway, sooner or later, I'll probably run into some
one I know."

On reaching Drouet Square, he espied an inviting-looking restaurant,
brilliantly lit. He was about to make his way to a table when the head
wa