"I am to read this when I wake."
His next proceeding was to blow a shrill whistle.
"It's your turn now, my dear Wulf … you won't find the fair unknown you expect, but you'll get back your Prince, slightly the worse for wear."
The journalist now swung the statue back in place, exclaiming:
"Au revoir, Monsieur, I'm off to take your place … sorry I can't stay to see the meeting with Wulf … he'll find his King somewhat changed… . I ought to have given you my moustache and beard."
Fandor passed a horrible night. He was obliged to economize the use of his electric lamp, which was only capable of giving several hours of light, so after a careful survey of his lodging, he extinguished it and lay down to get what rest he could.
"Not much fun for the King here!" he thought, "it's devilish monotonous … can't see anything, and nothing to hear … hold on, I can distinguish three separate noises, the plash of the water from the fountains, the rumble of carriages, and that heavy sound can only be the passage of trains from the North-South in the tunnel, which if I mistake not is right under my prison … and these Singing Fountains … they are accounted for by the King howling when he got drunk … but what about the night Susy d'Orsel was killed?… The King wasn't here then, and yet they were heard singing?"
Fandor was not long in reaching the solution of the mystery.
"What a fool I am!… the murder of Susy d'Orsel, the imprisonment of the King, are both the work of Fantômas! Fantômas must have known this hiding place a long time ago… . It was he who tried the experiment of making the statues sing to find out whether the sound could be heard above… . And to think that this monster has been arrested by Juve! And without me, too!… I shall have only the glory of showing up a few of his accomplices, and if they don't come in two or three days, why, I shall clear out."
Fandor rose and went toward the base of the naiad.
"It's still dark. I might just as well get a breath of fresh air."
With a gymnastic leap, the journalist reached the body of the statue and switched on his electric light. He made a horrible discovery. To reach the King he had maneuvered the statue from the outside. He realized now that it was impossible to open it from the inside. In his daring folly he had shut himself in and possibly condemned himself to the most terrible torture.
Now he began a struggle to regain his liberty. He tore his fingers and broke his nails in vain despairing efforts … at length he gave up, beaten. He was irrevocably a prisoner. When he realized his situation he sank to the ground, a cry escaping his lips:
"Juve! Juve! If only Juve finds my letter. If only he comes to save me!"
Chapter 20 FREDERICK-CHRISTIAN
"Another drink, Monsieur Louis?"
"I think I've had about enough."
"No, no … this is my turn to treat."
"Well, since you put it that way, Monsieur Wulf, I can't refuse."
"Besides," added the barkeeper, "this is some very special vermouth, only served to old clients."
"Ah," laughed Wulf, "I hope we're included in that category, for you certainly have no better client than myself."
"Excuse me," replied the barkeeper, smiling, "we have one, your boss, Monsieur Wulf, the King Frederick-Christian… . And while he doesn't always finish his drinks he always pays for them."
"And that's the important thing," added M. Louis.
It was about ten in the morning, and in the bar of the Royal Palace, deserted at this early hour, were M. Louis, Major-domo of the hotel, Wulf, and the barkeeper, who in his turn offered a round of drinks on the house.
As the glasses were being filled, the telephone rang to say that his Majesty wanted to see Wulf.
"That's all right," replied Wulf condescendingly, "I'll be along by and by."
After several more vermouths, Wulf grew expansive:
"Do you know, Monsieur Louis, that I've actually saved the King's life twice in five days!"
"Pretty good work," commented M. Louis, politely.
"The first time was the day after my arrival in Paris. Your Government wanted to kick up a fuss over the death of the King's little sweetheart; in fact, they went so far as to talk of his arrest." Wulf stopped suddenly, alarmed:
"But that is a state secret which I may not tell you. The second time was yesterday evening, or rather early this morning. You see the King and I had been off on a spree together."
As the barkeeper looked surprised at this announcement, Wulf explained:
"Oh, we're a couple of pals, the King and I … like two fingers of one hand … that's why I was in no hurry to answer his call just now… . Well, as I was saying, we were having a little spree, and the King was going to introduce me to a little … but that's another secret… . I'll skip the details, it is enough to say that after waiting a while, I found, instead of the girl, the King, my King. And where? Beside the Singing Fountains in the Place de la Concorde. Ah! my dear friends, what a state he was in! I hardly knew him at first; in fact, I shouldn't have known him at all if I were not such a sharp detective. He had removed his false beard and spectacles. I tell you Frederick-Christian has aged ten years, his clothes were torn and covered with mud, and moreover he was dead drunk! How he managed it in the time I don't know, for he wasn't away from me for more than an hour. What would you have done in my place? Left there in that deserted street he would have been at the mercy of the first thief or assassin. Therefore, I say, I saved his life by putting him into a cab and bringing him back to the Royal Palace. While I was helping to put him to bed, I noticed a letter pinned to his coat with this inscription on it, 'I am to read this when I wake.' So I have arranged accordingly. He'll see it the first thing on opening his eyes. Well, what do you think of that? Didn't I save the King's life a second time?"
M. Louis nodded:
"Never twice without the third time."
"I hope so … well, au revoir, Monsieur… ."
"Pardon, Monsieur," interrupted one of the employés, "but his Majesty has asked for you again."
"All right, I'm going," replied Wulf, as he drank his fifth vermouth.
"Whatever happens, whatever you are told, do not show any surprise. Take up your customary life again as though it had never been interrupted, as though nothing had happened since the night of December 31st."
Frederick-Christian, the victim of a racking headache, read and reread these strange mysterious words, without in the least understanding their meaning. After a heavy sleep, he had wakened about nine o'clock to find himself lying comfortably in his own bed at the Royal Palace. At first he thought it was part of his nightmare, that he was dreaming, but as he became more fully awake, he was obliged to admit the evidence of his senses.
At this moment, he suddenly caught sight of the crumpled letter pinned to his counterpane; opening it, he read the lines that Fandor had hurriedly pencilled the night before.
In spite of his exhaustion and stiffness, he sprang out of bed and was about to ring for a servant when a feeling of caution came over him.
It would be better first to take stock of the situation.
What had happened?
Among the newspapers lying on the table, he noticed several copies of the Gazette of Hesse-Weimar.
He glanced over the most recent numbers, but found nothing unusual in their columns. He then went back to the paper dated January 1st and to his amazement saw the following announcement:
"Paris, 1st January. (From our Special Correspondent.) His Majesty Frederick-Christian,