considered his sovereign with compassion.
"He's still a bit soused," he muttered to himself, then wagging a reproving finger at the King, he continued:
"Who am I? Wulfenmimenglaschk, Sire, at your service, and I've already saved your life twice … that's why I may be allowed to give you a bit of advice. Cut out the booze, Sire, you're distinctly the worse for wear … you're so changed that if it wasn't for your dressing-gown… ."
Wulf was undoubtedly very drunk; otherwise he could not have failed to notice the difference between the King of the last few days and the present one.
Frederick-Christian held himself in hand as long as possible, then burst out:
"What does this attitude mean?… this familiarity? What makes you speak in French?"
Wulf was first amazed at the change in his beloved master and inclined to weep over his humiliation. He was about to give utterance to his feelings when the King seized him by the arm and pointed to the Hesse-Weimar Gazette.
"Read that! Who furnished this information?"
"Why, I did, Sire."
"Then you mean to say you have been continually with me. You occupy the next apartment? You enjoy my friendship?"
"Yes, Sire."
The King, in a burst of rage, now held the unfortunate Wulf by the collar and shoving him toward the door, ejected him onto the landing with a prodigious kick.
Frederick-Christian, more puzzled than ever by the turn of events, now turned his attention to his toilette. He was still in scanty attire and went behind his screen to continue dressing. At this moment a soft and charming voice spoke:
"Sire, are you there? It is I … Marie Pascal."
Marie Pascal!
Where had he heard that name before? Slowly Frederick-Christian recalled the silhouette of a young woman … with a fair skin and light hair …
The voice continued:
"I am glad to know that you are better, Sire. Forgive me for troubling you now but since our last meeting things have happened of a very serious nature … hidden enemies want to destroy me … to destroy us… . First of all they accused your Majesty of the murder of Susy d'Orsel, and now after torturing me with questions they have dared to say it was I!… I'm sure they overheard our last conversation and misunderstand our love for each other… ."
Frederick-Christian was growing suspicious. What did this extraordinary visit mean? Did they want to trap him into an unwary admission?
"In the name of our love, say you don't believe me guilty!"
The King hesitated.
"I don't know… . I … "
He stopped short as Marie Pascal with a sudden movement flung down the screen. The King in amaze stood stock still while the young girl looked at him in utter stupefaction, with trembling lips and body shaken by nervous tremors. Then suddenly she turned in terror, screaming:
"Help! Help! The impostor! The murderer!… the King is not the King… . Frederick-Christian has disappeared!… Who is this man?"
The girl's cries brought the Hotel servants quickly to the scene. She continued, pointing to the King:
"Who is this man?… Frederick-Christian has disappeared!… good God, what has happened?"
"Better call the police," suggested some one.
This met with general approval, but proceedings were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Wulf.
"Have you heard?" several voices asked.
"All I know," replied Wulf in a piteous tone, "is that Frederick-Christian or not, he's got a devilish heavy foot, and when he kicks, he kicks royally."
Chapter 21 HORRIBLE CERTAINTY
"What has happened to that idiot Juve? Here for three days I've been shut up in this beastly prison and no sign of him."
As the days passed, Fandor gradually lost his buoyancy of spirits and became more and more anxious.
"What can Juve be doing?" he repeated for the hundredth time.
The continual obscurity of the place began to weigh him down. This was relieved each day for a few moments by a thin shaft of light. Fandor was quick to account for the phenomenon.
"It happens exactly at noon when the sun is directly overhead," he reasoned, "and finds an entrance through a crack in the bronze."
Many times he climbed to the body of the naiad in the hope of discovering some method of escape, but at length he realized that the thing was impossible.
He was seated one night deep in thought, puzzling his brains for the reason of Juve's defection, when a voice suddenly broke the silence.
"Can you hear me?"
Fandor bounded to his feet.
"Yes, I hear you."
"You must be getting uneasy?"
"Uneasy! I'm going mad! What a long time you've been!"
"That's true, I am a little late, but it hasn't been very easy."
Now that Fandor's mind was set at rest about his deliverance, he grew curious to know the results of the detective's investigation.
"Well, you were successful?"
"Yes, quite successful."
"Do they know in Glotzbourg?"
"They must have some suspicion by now."
"When did you get back?"
"This morning."
"Only this morning! And did you get my letter?"
"Your what, Sire?… I don't catch."
"I say you must have got my letter, since you are here, and now please get me out of this hole as quickly as possible … it's awful being shut up here … you can't imagine how I long for a breath of fresh air."
"Yes, yes, I understand, but I'm wondering how I'm to get you out."
"What's that?"
"Have you thought over a way we can effect the exchange?"
"But, my dear fellow, you must know what to do. I gave you full particulars in my letter."
"In your letter?"
"Yes… . I even enclosed a diagram."
There was a pause, the voice then asked:
"Will you pass me
