d girl.

"What a long time it is since one had the pleasure of seeing you, my
dear Monsieur Vagualame!" There was a touch of malicious irony in
Bobinette's tone.

Juve-Vagualame nodded. He would have liked to know what Wilhelmine and
Henri were doing in the cemetery, but Bobinette was his query for the
moment. Her next remark was startling.

"It looks as though you were afraid to show yourself since your last
crime."

Juve repressed any sign of the satisfaction this declaration gave him.

"My last crime?"

"Don't play the blockhead," she went on. "Have you forgotten that you
told me how you had assassinated Captain Brocq?"

"That is ancient history," muttered Juve, "... and I am not afraid of
anyone.... Besides ... did I tell you that now?" he hinted, with the
hope of obtaining further details. But Bobinette seemed to think she
had had enough of the subject. She laughed.

"What a way of walking you have!" she exclaimed.

Juve was purposely exaggerating Vagualame's attitude: it enabled him
to conceal his face better.

"I stoop so much because my age weighs me down.... When you grow
old."...

Bobinette burst into peals of laughter.

"You don't think, do you, Vagualame, that I take you for an old man?
Ha, ha! I know you are disguised; made up admirably, I dare say, but
you are a young man.... I am quite, quite sure of it!"

Juve was saying to himself:

"This grows better and better!"

Juve's conviction was that this old Vagualame, secret agent of the
Second Bureau, murderer of Captain Brocq, the Vagualame he had
encountered at Fandor's flat, could only be a young man in the flower
of his age--could be none other than Fantomas.

Juve was about to put more questions to Bobinette, but two figures
came into view, and they were nearing the avenue Rachel.

"Make off with you!" cried Bobinette. "There they are coming back!"

Juve did not wish de Loubersac to catch a glimpse of him: he would be
surprised, suspicious, and would question him about the missed
rendezvous. Juve had not gained sufficient information, however.

"I must see you again, Bobinette." His tone was pressing, insistent.

"When?"

"This evening."

"Impossible."

"To-morrow, then."

Bobinette shook her head.

"You know very well that to-morrow I shall be gone."

"Where?"

"Where?"

The red-haired beauty cried impatiently:

"It's you ask me that?... Why ... I go to the frontier."

"Correct," said Juve. He would have welcome