"To sum up what I have just learned." Juve was seated at his desk, and those who knew the private life of the great detective would assuredly have guessed that he was gravely preoccupied. He was trying to extract some useful information from the notary's visit, some hints essential to the investigation he had taken in hand, and that at all hazards he meant to pursue to a successful termination. The task was fraught with difficulties and even peril. But the triumph would be great if he should succeed in putting the "bracelets" on the "genius of crime," as he had called him to his friend Fandor. "Lady Beltham had gone to visit Gérin. She was an astute woman after all, and knew how to get her own way. There must have been power ful motives which urged her to write that confession. What were those motives? "Remorse? No. A woman who loves has no remorse. Fear? Probably, but fear of what?" Juve, without being aware of it, had just written on the paper of his note-book the ill-omened name which haunted him. "Fantômas!" "Why, of course, Fantômas killed Lady Beltham, and killed her in the house of Doctor Chaleck, an accomplice. And Loupart, a third accomplice, got his mistress to write to me, and I believed the denunciation. Loupart got us to dog him, led me unawares behind the curtains in the study, and made me witness that Chaleck was innocent. Oh, the ruse was a clever one. Josephine herself, by the two shots she received some days later at Lâriboisière, became a victim. In short, the scent was crossed and broken." The detective snatched up his hat, saw carefully to the charges of his pocket revolver, then gravely and solemnly cried: "It is you and I now, Fantômas!" with which he left his rooms.