t Fandor: "And then it is all up with me!
Courage to face the worst!"

The door of the studio had barely closed on Trokoff and his dupes when
Fandor heard a breathless murmur at his ear.

"Quick! Quick! Fandor! Trokoff, you have guessed it, is Vagualame! Is
Fantomas!... Cost what it may we must get the mastery of him!"

Fandor could not turn his head, but he felt his bonds were being
loosened.... A minute or two and he was free! He took a staggering
step or two: his limbs were stiff and numb.... Close to him, watching
his first difficult movements with an expression of ardent sympathy,
our journalist perceived--Naarboveck....

"You," said he.

"I!... Fandor, I will explain!... Hold! Here is a revolver!... Ah! the
bandits!... They took me too! Me also they have condemned to death!
But I managed to escape!... Look out! He returns! We will fall upon
Trokoff!... We will avenge ourselves!"

A heavy step was heard on the stairs; someone was mounting
hurriedly.... Trokoff was about to reappear....

Fandor grasped the revolver de Naarboveck had just handed to him. He
bounded to the door, ready to leap on the entering man.

De Naarboveck was ambushed on the side opposite to Fandor.

Suddenly Fandor shouted:

"Do not kill him! If it is Fantomas, we must take him alive!"

Before de Naarboveck had time to reply, the door was flung back
against him, thus putting him out of action for the moment.

Fandor shot forward, seized Trokoff by the throat, and, rolling on the
floor with him, yelled:

"To me, Naarboveck! Fantomas, you are taken! Yield!"

Fandor's grip and spring had been so sudden that Trokoff had not been
able to defend himself. He and Fandor struggled, twisted, writhed, in
a terrible embrace; panting, livid, with eyes of hate and horror!

De Naarboveck had laid hold of Trokoff, shouting:

"You shall die! You must die!"

This frightful struggle lasted but a few moments. Trokoff managed to
free himself from Fandor's grip. The stupefied journalist heard a
familiar voice crying:

"Look out, Fandor! It is Naarboveck we must take! Go it! Go it!"

The studio was plunged in darkness: a door banged: Fandor staggered,
driven violently back into the middle of the studio. He felt a man was
rushing away.

"He escapes! He escapes!"

Fandor did not know who had remained with him, who, had fled, whether
he was on his head or his heels!... It was a momentary bewilderment;
for the voice he had heard when the struggl