Part 52 (1/2)

As the door fell to with a resounding clang, Jerome had inspected the place by the light of a lantern.

”Empty!... No luck!... My plan has been spoiled: I shall not be able to interview Jules!”

Philosophically, Jerome Fandor was preparing to go to sleep on the plank bed which decorated one end of the cell, when the little costermonger, roused from his torpid condition, began to moan and groan.

”Oh, what a misfortune!... To think I am innocent! Innocent as an unborn babe!... What's to be done!... Oh, what's to be done!”

The last thing Fandor wished to do was to start a conversation with his lamenting companion. He tapped the costermonger on the shoulder.

”Good Heavens, man, the best thing you can do is to go to sleep! Take my word for it!”

Without puzzling his brains any further over the enigmas he wished to get to the bottom of, Fandor stretched himself on his plank bed, and was soon sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

Monsieur Fuselier looked perplexed.

”You, Fandor! You arrested!... But am I going mad?”

Our journalist had been taken from his cell at eight in the morning, and had been conducted to the office of the Public Prosecutor. Here, the acting magistrate, in conformity with the law, wished to put him through the examination which would establish his ident.i.ty. All arrested persons have to submit to this interrogation within twenty-four hours of their arrival at the Depot.

Jerome Fandor had given his name at once, and, in order to prove the truth of his statements, he had asked that Monsieur Fuselier should be sent for, so that the magistrate might vouch for his ident.i.ty and say a word in his favour.

Monsieur Fuselier had hastened to the Depot, had taken Fandor to his office, and had anxiously questioned him. Why, he asked, had the police been obliged to arrest him for drunkenness in the open thoroughfare?

When Fandor had concluded his statement, the magistrate exclaimed:

”Your ruse is inconceivable!... I must compliment you highly on your ability and your detective gifts!”

”I wish I could agree with you,” replied Fandor in a depressed tone. ”In spite of everything, I have not got into communication with Jules. But, Monsieur Fuselier, have you interrogated him yet?”

The magistrate shook his head.

”Alas, my poor friend, you have no idea of the extraordinary events of the past night; evidently, notwithstanding the fact that you played a pa.s.sive part in them!”

”I played a part?... Extraordinary events?... What the deuce do you mean?”

”I mean, dear Fandor, that all Paris is laughing over it. The police have been tricked! You have been tricked! Did you not tell me, just now, that your prison van had had an accident? Do you know what really happened?”

”I ask you to tell me.”

”Your vehicle was run into by a motor-car. The driver was extremely clumsy ... or very capable!”

”What's that?” Fandor leaned forward, keen as a pointer on the scent.

”It was like this,” replied Monsieur Fuselier. ”Your Salad Basket was very badly knocked about by the collision. The driver could not possibly repair it single-handed. He telephoned to Headquarters. Help was sent at once, and he had orders to drive to the Depot as soon as he could: he was not to trouble about the boulevard Exelmans station; that, for once, could be cleared the following morning. Unfortunately the telephone messages and replies had taken up a certain amount of time. When they telephoned to the boulevard Exelmans station, from Headquarters, to warn them not to expect the injured Salad Basket, the Depot man who was telephoning was extremely surprised to hear that the Salad Basket had already pa.s.sed on to the Auteuil station and had taken away the arrested individuals there, notably this famous Jules!...”

”I never calculated on this!” cried Fandor.

”The truth is, my dear fellow, that Salad Basket of yours was not knocked out of action by an unlucky accident--the knock-out was intentional--was carefully planned! It was done to stop your van from reaching the Auteuil station!... While your Basket was being repaired, another Basket appeared at the Auteuil clearing station! This, if you please, had been stolen! It was standing before the Palais de Justice.