I
i








A ROYAL PRISONER


fant6mas detective tales
By
PIERRE SOUVESTRE and MARCEL ALLAIN
i2mo. Cloth. Price, $1.40, net, each.
I.
FANTOMAS
The Adventures of Detective Juve in Pursuit of a
Master in Crime.
II.
THE EXPLOITS OF JUVE
In this continuation of "Fantomas" the further adven-
tures of Detective Juve are narrated and tell of his efforts
to run the notorious criminal to earth. Fantomas appears
here aj the leader of a gang of Apaches.
III.
MESSENGERS OF EVIL
This third Instalment of the adventures of Detective
Juve contains a recital of some remarkable happenings in
the life of this master-criminal of Paris.
IV.
A NEST OF SPIES
Fantomas now appears as the representative in Paris
of a Foreign Government whose real business is to obtain
important military secrets for Germany. Juve succeeds
in defeating his efforts, but the criminal himself escapes
once more.
V.
A ROYAL PRISONER
This volume tells of the daring exploits of Fantomas
in his attempts to get possession of the King of Hesse-
Weimar's famous diamond.
Other Volumes in Preparation
BRENTANO'S


THE FANTOMAS DETECTIVE NOVELS
A ROYAL
PRISONER
BY
PIERRE SOUVESTRE
AND
MARCEL ALLAIN

NEW YORK
BRENTANO'S
1918


Copyright, 1918, by Bkentano's


-
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A Royal Jag 3
II. Mother Citron's Tenants 12
III. The Tragedy of the Rue De Monceau . 21
IV. Who Do They Think I Am? . . . . 33
V. By the Singing Fountains 42
VI. The Investigation Begins 49
VII. The King Receives 63
VIII. Marie Pascal 69
IX. A Party of Three 76
X. Wulfenmimenglaschk 86
XI. One Hundred and Twenty-Seven Sta-
tions 98
XII. Camouflage 110
XIII. The Kingdom of Hesse-Weimar . . .118
XIV. Queen Hedwige Receives 127
XV. The Mysterious Prison 137
XVI. The Theft of the Diamond 146
XVII. On the Right Trail 155
XVIII. A Sleeper 165
XIX. Free! 174
XX. Frederick-Christian 180
XXI. Horrible Certainty 190
XXII. Between Us Three—Fantomas!. . . 195
XXIII. Official Opinions 210
XXIV. Juve's Lies 218
XXV. "I Want to Live!" 224
XXVI. The Accusing Waistcoat 227
XXVII. The Explosion of the Nord-Sud . . . 234
XXVIII. Innocent or Guilty? 243
XXIX. Compromising Discoveries 250
XXX. Shadowed 256
XXXI. The Death Watch 264
XXXII. The Arrest of Fantomas 270





I
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4
A ROYAL PRISONER
they crossed the sidewalk and disappeared inside, fol-
lowing their silk-hatted escorts, conscious of their own
importance.
Many years of active service in Paris as chief re-
porter of La Capitale had brought Jerome Fandor in
touch with a good third of those who constitute
Parisian society, and rarely did he fail to exchange
a nod, a smile, or half a dozen words of friendly
greeting whenever he set foot out of doors.
But in spite of his popularity he led a lonely life—
many acquaintances, but few close friends. The great
exception was Juve, the celebrated detective.
In fact, Fandor's complex and adventurous life was
very much bound up with that of the police officer,
for they had worked together in solving the mystery
of many tragic crimes.
On this particular evening, the reporter became
gradually imbued with the general spirit of gaiety
and abandon which surrounded him.
"Hang it," he muttered, "I might go and hunt up
Juve and drag him off to supper, but I'm afraid I
should get a cool reception if I did. He is probably
sleeping the sleep of the just and would strongly ob-
ject to being disturbed. Anyway, sooner or later,
I'll probably run into some one I know."
On reaching Drouet Square, he espied an inviting-


A ROYAL PRISONER 5
looking restaurant, brilliantly lit. He was about to
make his way to a table when the head waiter stopped
him.
"Your name, please!"
"What's that?" replied Fandor.
The waiter answered with ironical politeness:
"I take it for granted you have engaged a table.
We haven't a single vacant place left."
Fandor had the same luck at several other restau-
rants and then began to suffer the pangs of hunger,
having, on principle, scarcely touched the heavy dishes
served at the banquet.
After wandering aimlessly about, he walked toward
the Madeleine and turned off into the Rue Royale in
the direction of the Faubourg Saint-Honore.
As he was passing a discreet looking restaurant
with many thick velvet curtains and an imposing array
of private automobiles before it, he heard his name
called.
He stopped short and turned to see a vision of
feminine loveliness standing before him.
"Isabelle de Guerray!" he cried.
"And how are you, my dear boy? Come along in
with me."
Fandor had known Isabelle de Guerray when she
was a young school teacher just graduated from


6
A ROYAL PRISONER
Sevres. Her career, beginning with a somewhat
strange and unorthodox affair with a young man of
good family who had killed himself for her, had pro-
gressed by rapid strides and her name was frequently
cited in the minor newspapers as giving elegant "so-
ciety" suppers, the guests being usually designated by
their initials!
Fandor remarked that the fair Isabelle seemed to
be putting on weight, especially round the shoulders
and hips, but she still retained a great deal of dash
and an ardent look in her eyes, very valuable assets
in her profession.
"I have my table here, at Raxim's, you must come
and join us," and she added with a sly smile, "Oh—
quite platonically—I know you're unapproachable."
A deafening racket was going on in the narrow,
oblong room. The habitues of the place all knew
each other and the conversation was general. No re-
straint was observed, so that it was quite permissible
to wander about, hat on head and cigar between lips,
or take a lady upon one's knees.
Fandor followed Isabelle to a table overloaded with
flowers and bottles of champagne. Here and there
he recognized old friends from the Latin Quarter or
Montmartre, among them Conchita Conchas, a Spanish
dancer in vogue the previous winter. A tiny woman,


A ROYAL PRISONER
7
who might have been a girl of fifteen from her figure,
but whose face was marked with the lines of dissipa-
tion, ran into him and Fandor promptly put his arm
round her waist.
"Hello, if it isn't little Souppe!"
"Paws down or I'll scratch," was the sharp reply.
The next moment he was shaking hands with Daisy
Kissmi, an English girl who had become quite a fea-
ture of Raxim's.
Further on he noticed a pale, bald, and already pot-
bellied young man, who was staring with lack-lustre
eyes at his whiskey and soda. This premature ruin
was listening distraitly to a waiter who murmured
mysteriously into his ear.
At the end of the room, surrounded by pretty
women, sat the old Duke de Pietra, descendant of a
fine old Italian family, and near him Arnold, an actor
from the music halls.
The patrons had no choice in regard to the supper,
which was settled by the head waiter. Each received
a bottle of champagne, Ostend oysters, and, later,
large slices of pate de foie gras, and as the bottles
were emptied, intoxication became general, while even
the waiters seemed to catch the spirit of abandon.
When the Hungarian band had played their most se-
ductive waltzes, the leader came forward to the mid-


8 A ROYAL PRISONER
dle of the room and announced a new piece of his own
composition, called "The Singing Fountains." This
met with instant applause and laughter.
As the night wore on the noise became positively
deafening. A young Jew named Weil invented a new
game. He seized two plates and began scraping them
together. Many of the diners followed his example.
"Look here," exclaimed Conchita Conchas, leaning
familiarly upon Fandor's shoulder, "why don't you
give" us tickets for to-morrow to hear these famous
Fountains?"
Fandor started to explain that the young woman
would be in bed and sound asleep when that event took
place, but the Spanish girl, without waiting for the
answer, had strolled away.
The journalist rose with the intention of making
his escape, when a voice directly behind him made
him pause.
"Excuse me, but you seem to know all about these
'Singing Fountains.' Will you kindly explain to me
what they are? I am a stranger in the city."
Fandor turned and saw a man of about thirty, fair-
haired, with a heavy moustache, seated alone at a small
table. The stranger was well built and of distin-
guished appearance. The journalist suppressed a start
of amazement.


A ROYAL PRISONER 9
"Why, it's not surprising that you have not heard
of them, they are qui,te unimportant. On the Place
de la Concorde there are two bronze monuments rep-
resenting Naiads emerging from the fountains. You
probably have seen them yourself?"
The stranger nodded, and poured out another glass
of champagne.
"Well," continued Fandor, "recently passers-by have
fancied they heard sounds coming from these figures.
In fact, they declare that the Naiads have been singing.
A delightfully poetic and thoroughly Parisian idea,
isn't it?"
"Very Parisian indeed."
"The papers have taken it up, and one you probably
know by name, La Capitate, has decided to investi-
gate this strange phenomenon."
"What was Conchita asking you just now?"
"Oh, nothing, merely to give her a card for the cere-
mony."
The conversation continued and turned to other sub-
jects. The stranger ordered more wine and insisted
on Fandor joining him. He seemed to be particularly
interested in the subject of women and the night life
of Paris.
"If only I could persuade him to come with me,"
thought Fandor. "I'd show him a stunt or two, and


io A ROYAL PRISONER
what a scoop it would make . . . if it could be printed!
He certainly is drunk, very drunk, and that may help
me.
On the Place de la Concorde, deserted at this late
hour, two men, arm in arm, were taking their devious
way. They were Fandor and the stranger he had met
at Raxim's.
The journalist, with the aid of an extra bottle, had
persuaded his new friend to finish the night among the
cafes of Montmartre. The sudden change from the
overheated restaurant to the cold outside increased the
effects of the alcohol and Fandor realized that he him-
self was far from sober. As his companion seemed to
be obsessed with the idea of seeing the Fountains, the
journalist piloted him to the Place de la Concorde.
"There you are," he exclaimed, "but you see they're
closed. No more singing to-night. Now come and
have a drink."
"Good idea, some more champagne."
Fandor hailed a taxi, and ordered the chauffeur to
drive to the Place Pigalle. As he was shutting the
door, he observed an old beggar, who evidently was
afraid to ask for alms. Fandor threw him a coin as
the taxi started.
It was three in the morning, and the Place Pigalle


A ROYAL PRISONER
13
"What's that to do with you. Get a move on, lay
the table."
"I left the pate de foie gras in the pantry with ice
round it."
"All right."
The young woman returned to the dining-room and
gave a final glance at the preparations.
"He's a pretty good sort, my august lover." Jus-
tine started in surprise.
"August! Is that a new one?"
Susy d'Orsel could hardly repress a smile.
"Mind your own business. What time is it?"
"A quarter to twelve, Madame." And as the girl
started to leave the room she ventured:
"I hope M. August won't forget me, to-morrow
morning."
"Why, you little idiot, his name isn't August, it's
Frederick-Christian! You have about as much sense
as an oyster!"
The maid looked so crestfallen at this that Susy
added, good-naturedly:
"That's all right, Justine, A Happy New Year any-
way, and don't worry. And now get out; His Majesty
wants nobody about but me this evening."
Susy d'Orsel, in spite of her physical charms, had
found life hard during the earlier years of her career.


14 A ROYAL PRISONER
She had become a mediocre actress merely for the
sake of having some profession, and had frequented
the night restaurants in quest of a wealthy lover. It
was only after a long delay that fortune had smiled
upon her, and she had arrived at the enviable position
of being the mistress of a King.
Frederick-Christian II, since the death of his father
three years previously, reigned over the destinies of
the Kingdom of Hesse-Weimar. Young and thor-
oughly Parisian in his tastes, he felt terribly bored in
his middle-class capital and sought every opportunity
of going, incognito, to have a little fun in Paris. Dur-
ing each visit he never failed to call upon Susy d'Orsel,
and by degrees, coming under the sway of her charms,
he made her a sort of official mistress, an honor which
greatly redounded to her glory and popularity.
He had installed her in a dainty little apartment in
the Rue de Monceau. It was on the third floor and
charmingly furnished. In fact, he was in the habit of
declaring that his Queen Hedwige, despite all her
wealth, was unable to make her apartment half so
gracious and comfortable.
Thus it was that Susy d'Orsel waited patiently for
the arrival of her royal lover, who had telephoned her
he would be with her on the night of December the
thirty-first
.


A ROYAL PRISONER 15
The official residence of the King while in Paris
was the Royal Palace Hotel, and although in strict
incognito, he rarely spent the whole night out. But
he intended to make the last night of the year an
exception to this rule. As became a gallant gentle-
man, he had himself seen to the ordering of the supper,
and a procession of waiters from the first restaurants
of Paris had been busy all the afternoon preparing for
the feast.
Suddenly a discreet ring at the bell startled Susy
d'Orsel.
"That's queer, I didn't expect the King until one
o'clock!" she exclaimed.
She opened the door and saw a young girl standing
on the landing.
"Oh, it's you, Mademoiselle Pascal! What are you
coming at this hour for?"
"Excuse me, Madame, for troubling you, but I've
brought your lace negligee. It took me quite a time
to finish, and I thought you'd probably like it as soon
as possible."
"Oh, I thought it had already come. I'm very
glad you brought it. There would have been a
fine row if it hadn't been ready for me to wear this
evening."
Susy d'Orsel took the dressmaker into her bedroom


16 A ROYAL PRISONER
and turned on the electric lights. The gown was then
unwrapped and displayed. It was of mousseline de
soie, trimmed with English point.
Susy examined it with the eye of a connoisseur and
then nodded her head.
"It's fine, my girl, you have the fingers of a fairy,
but it must put your eyes out."
"It is very hard, Madame, especially working by
artificial light, and in winter the days are so short and
the work very heavy. That is why I came to you at
this late hour."
Susy smiled.
"Late hour! Why the evening is just beginning
for me."
"Our lives are very different, Madame."
"That's right, I begin when you stop, and if your
work is hard, mine isn't always agreeable."
The two women laughed and then Susy took off
her wrapper and put on the new negligee.
"My royal lover is coming this evening."
"Yes, I know," answered Marie Pascal. "Your
table looks very pretty."
"You might make me a lace table cloth. We'll talk
about it some other time, not this evening; besides, I
can't be too extravagant."
The dressmaker took her leave a few moments later


18 A ROYAL PRISONER
Her hands and feet were enormous, disproportionate
to her figure, although she was well above middle
height. She invariably wore mittens while doing the
housework.
Mother Citron, however, did very little work; she
left that to a subordinate who, for a modest wage, at-
tended to her business and left her free to go out
morning, noon and night. She now questioned Maria
Pascal with considerable curiosity, and the young girl
explained her late errand to deliver the gown to Susy
d'Orsel.
"Come in and have a cup of coffee, Mam'zelle Pas-
cal," urged the old woman, as she set out two cups
and filled them from a coffee pot on the stove.
Marie Pascal at first refused, but Mother Citron
was so insistent that she ended by accepting the in-
vitation. Besides, she felt very grateful to Madame
Ceiron for having recommended her to the proprietor
of the house, the Marquis de Serac, an old bachelor
who lived on the first floor.
The Marquis had used his good offices to obtain
for her an order for laces from the King of Hesse-
Weimar. Mother Citron showed a kindly interest in
this enterprise.
"Well, did you see the King?"
Marie Pascal hesitated:


A ROYAL PRISONER
19
"I saw him and I didn't see him."
"Tell me all about it, my dear. Is the lover of our
lady upstairs a good-looking man?"
"It's hard to say. So far as I could judge, he
seemed to be very handsome. You see, it was like
this. After waiting in the lobby of the Royal Palace
Hotel for about an hour, I was shown into a large
drawing-room; a sort of footman in knee breeches took
my laces into the adjoining room where the King was
walking up and down. I just caught a glimpse of
him from time to time."
"What did he do then?"
"I don't know. He must have liked my laces for
he gave me a large order. He didn't seem to pay
much attention to them; he picked out three of the
samples I sent in and what seemed queer, he also
ordered some imitations of them."
The concierge smiled knowingly.
"I expect the imitations were for his lawful wife,
and the real ones for his little friend. Men are all
alike. Another cup of coffee?"
"Oh, no, thanks."
"Well, I won't insist; each one to his taste. The
life Susy d'Orsel leads wouldn't suit you. And the
amount of champagne she gets through!"
"No, I shouldn't care much about that."


CHAPTER III
THE TRAGEDY OF THE RUE DE MONCEAU
SUSY d'ORSEL, tired of waiting for her royal
lover, was sound asleep before the fire in her
bedroom. Suddenly she was awakened by a
loud noise. Still half asleep, she sat up listening. The
sounds came from the stairs. Mechanically Susy
glanced at the clock, which marked the quarter after
three.
"I'll bet it's him, but how late he is!"
As the sounds drew nearer, she added:
"He must be as drunk as a lord! After all, Kings
are no better than other men."
She quickly passed to the outer door and listened.
"Why, it sounds as if there were two of them!"
A key fumbled in the lock, then the owner of it
apparently gave up the task as hopeless and began ring-
ing the bell.
Susy opened the door and Frederick-Christian stag-
gered in followed by a man who was a total stranger
to her.
The latter, bowing in a correct and respectful man-
ner, carried himself with dignity.
21


22 A ROYAL PRISONER
The King bubbled over with laughter and leaned
on the shoulder of his lady-love.
"Take off your overcoat," she said, at length, and
while he was attempting to obey her, she whispered:
"If your Maj ..."
Before she could finish the sentence the King put
his hand over her mouth.
"My . v . my . . . my dear Susy . . . I'm very
fond of you . . . but don't begin by saying stupid
things. ... I am here . . . incog . . . incognito.
Call me your little Cri-Cri, Susy. ..."
"My dear," she replied, "introduce me to your
friend."
"Eh," cried the King, "if I'm not forgetting the
most elementary obligations of the protocol; but after
fourteen whiskeys, and good whiskey, too, though I've
better here. . . . Susy don't drink any, she prefers
gooseberry syrup . . . queer taste, isn't it?"
Susy saw the conversation was getting away from
the point, so repeated her request:
"Introduce me to your friend."
Frederick-Christian glanced at his companion and
then burst out laughing:
"What is your name, anyway?"
Fandor did not need to ask that question of the
King. The moment he had set eyes on him in Raxim's


A ROYAL PRISONER
he recognized in the sturdy tippler his Majesty Fred-
erick-Christian II, King of Hesse-Weimar, on one
of his periodic sprees. It was this fact which had
made him break his rule and indulge freely himself.
With a serious air he explained:
"Sum fides Achates!"
"What's that?" cried the King.
"Exactly."
Susy d'Orsel now thought both men were equally
drunk. She fancied they were having fun with her.
"You know I don't want English spoken here," she
said drily.
The King took his mistress round the waist and
drew her to him.
"Now don't get angry, my dear, it's only our fun,
and besides it's not English, it's Latin . . . bonus
. . . Latinus . . . ancestribus . . . the good Latin of
our ancestors! . . . the Latin of the Kitchen! Cui-
sinus . . . autobus . . . understand?"
Turning to the journalist he stretched out his hand:
"Well, my old friend Achates, I'm jolly glad to
meet you."
"Achates isn't a real name," cried Susy, still sus-
picious.
"Achates," explained Fandor, "is an individual be-
longing to antiquity who became famous in his faithful


24
A ROYAL PRISONER
friendship for his companion and friend, the well-
known globe-trotter, yEneas."
"Come and sit down," shouted the King, as he
rapped on the table with a bottle of champagne.
"Hurry up, Susy, a plate and glass for my old
friend, whose name I don't know . . . because, you
see, he's no more Achates than I am."
"Oh, no, Madame," Fandor hastened to say, "I
couldn't think of putting you to the trouble, besides
spoiling the effect of your charming table. In fact,
I am going home in a few moments."
"Not on your life," shouted the King, "you'll stay
to the very end."
"Well, then, a glass of champagne, that's all I'll
take."
By degrees Susy had become reassured in regard to
the young man. Although slightly drunk, his polite
manner and good form pleased her. She took her
place on the divan beside the King. Fandor sat oppo-
site them and lighted a cigarette.
Suddenly Susy rose from the table.
"Where are you going?" demanded the King.
"I'll be back in a moment . . . something must be
open. I feel a draught on my legs."
"Why not show us your legs!" cried Frederick-
Christian, and turning to the journalist added:


A ROYAL PRISONER
25
"She's built like a statue ... a little marvel."
Susy returned.
"I knew it! The hall door was open. I hope no-
body has got in."
The King laughed at the idea.
"If anyone did, let him come and join us, the more
the merrier."
"I thought I heard a noise," continued Susy, but
the King made her sit down again beside him and
the supper went on.
As she drank glass after glass of wine, she became
more and more amiable toward Fandor. And since
the King paid little attention to her caresses, she be-
gan a flirtation with the journalist in order to pique
him.
This brought a frown from the royal lover, and
Susy amused herself between the two men until supper
ended and they all adjourned to her boudoir.
Fandor, who had now become more sober, decided
it was time to take his leave.
"Suppose you both come and lunch with me to-
morrow, will you?" he asked. To this they agreed
and it was finally arranged that Fandor should call
and pick them up at one o'clock the following day.
The journalist felt his way downstairs in the semi-
darkness and was just about to ask the concierge to let


26
A ROYAL PRISONER
him out when he was startled by seeing a heavy
form fall with a thud onto the ground of the inner
court.
With a gasp of alarm the young man rushed for-
ward and quickly realized that he was in the presence
of a terrible tragedy.
Lying on the ground, inert, was the body of Susy
d'Orsel.
The unfortunate girl had fallen from the third
floor.
Without hesitating, he lifted the body and finding
no sign of life, cried loudly for help.
But the entire house was asleep.
What was to be done?
Immediate action was necessary. After a moment's
pause, he decided to take the unfortunate girl back to
her own apartment. Arrived at the door, he found it
locked on the inside. After ringing for some time,
it was opened finally by the King. At the sight of
Susy apparently lifeless, her head hanging backward,
the King staggered to the wall.
He wanted to ask a question, but the words stuck in
his throat
.
Fandor entered the bedroom and laying Susy down
attempted to undo her corset.
"Vinegar and some water," he ordered.


A ROYAL PRISONER
27
The King between his drunkenness and his alarm
was quite useless, and the journalist, after applying a
mirror to the girl's nostrils and lips, with a gesture of
despair exclaimed:
"Good God, she is dead!"
However, being unwilling to risk his own judgment,
he started to the door to seek aid.
At this moment a violent knocking began and a
voice from the hall cried out:
"What's the matter? Is anyone hurt? I'm the
concierge."
"The concierge! Then, for Heaven's sake, Madame,
get a doctor. Mademoiselle d'Orsel has killed herself,
or at least she is very badly injured."
The words were scarcely out of Fandor's mouth
when the rapidly disappearing footsteps of the con-
cierge were heard clattering downstairs. Frederick-
Christian, in a dazed condition, stood in the dining-
room, mechanically drinking a liqueur.
"Look here, what does this mean?" cried Fandor.
The King looked at him with intense stupefaction,
trying, it seemed, to co-ordinate his faculties. Then,
with a greater calmness than in his condition seemed
possible, he replied:
"Why, I haven't the least idea."
"But . . . what have you done since I left you?


28 A ROYAL PRISONER
You were both seated side by side on the sofa. How
did Susy d'Orsel come to fall out of the window?
What have you done?"
"I don't know. I didn't budge from the sofa until
you rang the bell."
"But. . . Susy!"
"She left me for a moment. I thought she had
gone to see you out."
"That's impossible . . . she didn't leave you . . .
it's you who ... for God's sake, explain! . . . It's
too serious a business."
The King seemed unable to take in the situation.
Fandor determined to try a shock. Going close to him
he spoke in a low voice:
"I beg your Majesty to tell me."
This had an immediate effect. The King staggered
back and stared, wide-eyed.
"I ... I don't understand."
"Yes," insisted Fandor, "your Majesty does under-
stand. You know that I am aware in whose presence
I am standing. You are Frederick-Christian II, King
of Hesse-Weimar . . . and I, your Majesty, am Je-
rome Fandor, reporter on La Capitale ... a jour-
nalist."
The King did not appear to attach much importance
to Fandor's words. Peaceably, without haste, he put


A ROYAL PRISONER
29
on his overcoat and hat. Then, picking up his cane,
he moved toward the door.
"Here! what are you doing?"
"I'm going."
"You can't."
"Yes, I can; it's all right, don't worry, I'll arrange
matters."
The King appeared so calmly confident that Fan-
dor stood dumbfounded.
Here certainly was an individual out of the com-
mon! The journalist had seen many strange happen-
ings in his adventurous career, but never had he come
across such an amazing situation. For now he had
no doubt of the guilt of the King. What, however,
could have been the motive of such odious savagery?
Was it possible he had taken seriously the innocent
flirtation between Susy and himself? Had the King
taken vengeance upon his mistress in a moment of
jealous insanity?
No, that was out of the question.
In spite of his intoxication, Frederick-Christian
seemed to be a man of normal temperament, and of a
kindly disposition. His face betrayed none of the
characteristics of the drink-maddened.
The young man was about to question Frederick-
Christian further when the hall door bell rang sharply.


30 A ROYAL PRISONER
Fandor quickly opened the door and let in two
policemen.
"Is it here the tragedy took place?"
"What! You know already?"
"The concierge notified us, Monsieur."
Then turning to his companion:
"See that no one gets out."
"But I've sent for a doctor. ... I must go and find
one," cried Fandor.
"That has already been attended to. We are here
to ascertain the facts, to make arrests. Where is the
victim of the crime?"
As Fandor took the officer into the bedroom he ex-
pected at every moment to hear some exclamation at
the discovery of the King. But the latter had mys-
teriously disappeared.
The officer surveyed the body of the young woman
and seemed in doubt how to begin his interrogatory.
Suddenly his attention was diverted to the vestibule,
where whispering was going on.
Both men quickly returned to the hall door and Fan-
dor overheard the final words of a third person who
had entered the room, evidently the concierge. She
was saying:
"It must be Tiim' . . . only treat him politely . . .
he isn't like an ordinary ..."


A ROYAL PRISONER 31
Upon seeing the journalist the old woman stopped
abruptly and made him a deep bow.
"Ah, it's you, Madame," cried Fandor, "well, have
you brought a doctor?"
"We're looking for one, Monsieur," replied the old
woman, "but to-night they seem to be all out enjoy-
ing themselves."
One of the officers turned to Fandor and spoke with
evident embarrassment.
"It might be better if Monsieur would tell us ex-
actly what happened. On account of possible annoy-
ances . . . besides, the business is too important. . .
and then the Government . . ."
Fandor explained briefly all he knew. He was
careful not to mention the King by name, leaving it
to his Majesty to disclose his own identity when the
time came.
"Then Monsieur means to say that a third person
was present?" one of the officers asked.
"Of course!" replied Fandor.
"And where is this third person?"
The officer looked decidedly skeptical and the jour-
nalist began to grow uneasy.
"He was here with me just now; probably he's in
one of the other rooms. Why don't you search?"
But the search disclosed nobody.


CHAPTER IV
WHO DO THEY THINK I AM?
THE first faint light of dawn was filtering through
the dusty windows of the police station.
Sergeant Masson, pushing aside the game
of dominoes he had been playing with his subordinate,
declared:
"I must go and see the chief."
"At his house?" demanded the other in a tone of
alarm.
"Yes; after all, if I catch it for waking him that
won't be so bad as having him come here at ten."
The sergeant rose and stretched himself. He had
entire charge of the Station and was responsible for
all arrests. As a rule he felt himself equal to the task,
but this time the tragedy of the Rue Monceau and
the peculiar circumstances surrounding it seemed too
much of a burden to bear alone.
Ought he to have arrested the individual now at the
Station? Had he been sufficiently tactful? What was
to be done now?
"Yes, I'm going to see the chief," he repeated, "be-
33


34
A ROYAL PRISONER
sides, I shan't be gone long. Anything that 'he' asks
for let him have, you understand?"
It was about five-thirty, and the sky threatened
snow. The air was fresh and not too cold. A few
milk carts were the only vehicles in the streets. Por-
ters were busy brushing off the sidewalks. Paris was
making her toilette. Sergeant Masson stopped at a
small house in a quiet street and mounted to the third
floor. There he hesitated. The wife of the chief was
known for her sharp temper. However, there was
nothing to be done but ring, and this he did in a timid
manner.
In a few moments he heard the door-chain with-
drawn, and a woman's voice cried:
"Who is there?"
"It is I, Madame, Sergeant Masson."
"Well, what do you want?"
"The chief is wanted at the Station right away."
At these words the door opened wide and the
woman stood revealed. She was about forty,
dressed in her wrapper and with her hair still in curl
papers.
"Louis must go to the Station?" she demanded.
"Yes, Madame, an arrest has been made . . ."
"He must go to the Station?" she repeated in a
menacing tone.


A ROYAL PRISONER 35
Sergeant Masson retreated to the landing. He
simply nodded his head.
"But he is there! He told me he was! Ah, I see
how it is! . . . He's been lying again. He's been
running after women ... all right, he'll pay for it
when he gets home!"
The door shut with a bang and the lady disappeared.
"What an idiot I've been," muttered the discomfited
sergeant. "I ought to have known better. Of course
he's not with his wife, he's with his mistress!"
Several minutes later he reached another apartment
in a neighboring street.
This time he had no misgivings and congratulated
himself upon his professional cleverness in tracking his
man down.
The same performance was gone through. A ring
at the bell brought an answer to the door.
"Who is there?" said a man's voice.
"It is I . . . Sergeant Masson."
The door was opened and a young man stood in the
halL He was about thirty and wore an undershirt
and drawers.
"Well, Sergeant!"
The sergeant shrank back; he would have been glad
if he could have disappeared in the walls. The chief's
secretary stood before him.


36
A ROYAL PRISONER
"I was . . . was looking . . ." he stammered.
The secretary interrupted with a smile.
"No, he's not here. In fact, we are rarely found
together."
Then putting a hand on the sergeant's shoulder:
"As gentleman to gentleman, I count on your dis-
cretion."
The door shut softly and the sergeant turned sadly
and went back to the Station, pondering over the per-
sonal annoyance this general post at night occasioned
him.
He was greeted on his return by a few sharp words.
"Ah, there you are, Masson! ... At last! ... An
event of the first importance occurs, an amazing scan-
dal breaks out and you desert your post. . . . It's al-
ways the way if I'm not here to look after things. I
shall have to report you, you know. Where have you
been?"
The speaker was a man still quite young, who wore
the ribbon of the Legion of Honor. It was the chief
himself. On the way home from some late party
he had dropped into the Station out of simple curi-
osity.
Was he awake or was he dreaming?
Fandor felt stiff all over, his head was heavy and


A ROYAL PRISONER 37
his mind a blank. . . . And then came a thirst, a de-
vouring, insatiable thirst.
Where he was and how he had arrived there were
things past his comprehension.
So far as the feeble light permitted, he made out
the room to contain the furnishings of an office, and
by degrees, as his mind cleared, he recalled with a start
his arrest.
He was at the police station.
But why in this particular room? The walls were
hung with sporting prints. Bookshelves, a comfort-
able sofa, upon which he had spent the night, all these
indicated nothing less than the private office of the
chief.
And then he recalled with what consideration he
had been conducted hither. Evidently they took him
for an intimate friend of the King. Nevertheless, he
was under arrest for murder, or at least as an accom-
plice to a murder.
"After all," he thought, "the truth will come to
light, they'll capture the murderer and my innocence
will be established.
"Besides, didn't the King promise to see me through.
Probably before this he has already taken steps for my
release."
He then decided to call out:


38
A ROYAL PRISONER
"Is there anyone here?"
Scarcely had Fandor spoken when a man entered,
who, after a profound bow to the journalist, drew the
curtains apart.
"You are awake, Monsieur?"
Fandor was amazed. What charming manners the
police had!
"Oh, yes, I'm awake, but I feel stiff all over."
"That is easily understood, and I hope you will par-
don . . . You see, I didn't happen to be at the station
. . . and when I got here . . . why, I didn't like to
wake you."
"They take me for a friend of the King of Hesse-
Weimar," thought Fandor.
"You did perfectly right, Monsieur . . ."
"M. Perrajas, District Commissioner of Police . . .
and the circumstances being such . . . the unfortunate
circumstances ... I imagine it was better that you
did not return immediately to your apartment ... in
fact, I have given the necessary orders and in a few
moments ... the time to get a carriage ... I can,
of course, rely upon the discretion of my men who, be-
sides, are ignorant of . . ."
"Oh, that's all right."
Fandor replied in a non-committal tone. It would
be wiser to avoid any compromising admission. A


A ROYAL PRISONER
carriage!—what carriage, doubtless the Black Maria
to take him to prison. And what did he mean by
'the discretion of his men?'"
"Well," thought Fandor, "he can count upon me.
I shan't publish anything yet. And after all, it's go-
ing to be very hard for me to prove my innocence.
Since I must rely on the King getting me out of this
hole, it would be very foolish of me to give him
away."
"Besides," continued the officer, "I have had the
concierge warned; she has received the most positive
orders . . . and no reporter will be allowed to get
hold of . . ."
The officer became confused in his explanation.
"The incidents of last night," added Fandor.
A knock at the door and Sergeant Masson entered.
"The coupe is ready."
"Very well, Sergeant."
Fandor rose and was about to put on his over-
coat, but the man darted forward and helped him on
with it.
"Do you wish me to come with you, Monsieur, or
would you prefer to return alone?"
"Oh, alone, thanks, don't trouble yourself."
The door was opened wide by the polite officer and
Fandor passed through the main hall of the Station,


40 A ROYAL PRISONER
where everyone rose and bowed. Getting into his car-
riage, he was disagreeably surprised to see an indi-
vidual who appeared to be a plain clothes man sitting
on the seat. In addition a police cyclist fell in behind
the carriage as escort.
"Where the devil are they going to take me?" he
wondered.
To his intense surprise, they stopped ten minutes
later at the Royal Palace, the most luxurious hotel
in Paris.
With infinite deference he was then conducted to
the elevator and taken to the first floor.
"Well, this lets me out," thought Fandor. "Evi-
dently the King has sent for me ... in a few minutes
I shall be free . . . what a piece of luck!"
He was shown into a sumptuous apartment and there
left to his own devices.
"Wonder what's become of Frederick-Christian," he
muttered, after a wait of twenty minutes. "It's worse
than being at the dentist's."
As the room was very warm, Fandor removed his
overcoat and began an investigation of his surround-
ings. Upon a table lay several illustrated papers and
picking one up he seated himself comfortably in an
armchair and began to read.
Some minutes later a Major-domo entered the room


A ROYAL PRISONER 41
with much ceremony and silently presented him with
a card. This turned out to be a menu.
"Well, they're not going to let me starve anyway,"
he thought, "and as long as the King has asked me to
breakfast, I'll accept his invitation."
Choosing several dishes at random, he returned the
menu, and the man, bowing deeply, inquired:
"Where shall we serve breakfast? In the boudoir?"
"Yes, in the boudoir."
The bow ended the interview and Fandor was once
more left alone. But not for long. Close upon the
heels of the first, a second man entered and handed
the journalist a telegram and withdrew.
"Ah, now I shall get some explanation of all this
mystery! This should come from the King. . . .
Has he got my name? ... No! ... the Duke of Ha-
worth . . . evidently the name of the individual I am
supposed to represent."
Fandor tore open the telegram and then stared in
surprise. Not one word of it could he make out. It
was in cipher!
"Why the deuce was this given to me! . . . what
does the whole thing mean? Is it possible they take
me for . . ."


CHAPTER V
BY THE SINGING FOUNTAINS
PARIS rises very late indeed on New Year's Day.
The night before is given up to family reunions,
supper parties and every kind of jollification.
So the year begins with a much needed rest. The
glitter and racket of the streets gives place to a death-
like stillness. Shops are shut and the cafes are empty.
Paris sleeps. There is an exception to this rule: Cer-
tain unfortunate individuals are obliged to rise at day-
break, don their best clothes, their uniforms and make
their way to the four corners of the town to pay
ceremonial calls.
These are the Government officials representing the
army, the magistracy, the parliament, the municipality
—all must pay their respects to their chiefs. For this
hardship they receive little sympathy, as it is generally
understood that while they have to work hard on
New Year's Day, they do nothing for the rest of the
year.
The somnolence of Paris, however, only extends
until noon. At that hour life begins again. It is lunch-
eon time.
4*


A ROYAL PRISONER
This New Year's Day differed in no wise from
others, and during the afternoon the streets were
thronged with people.
A pale sun showed in the gray winter sky and the
crowd seemed to be converging toward the Place de
la Concorde. Suddenly the blare of a brass band
on the Rue Royale brought curious heads to the win-
dows.
A procession headed by a vari-colored banner was
marching toward the banks of the Seine. The partici-
pants wore a mauve uniform with gold trimmings and
upon the banner was inscribed in huge letters:
LA CAPITALE
THE GREAT EVENING PAPER
With some difficulty the musicians reached the Obe-
lisk and at the foot of the monument they formed a
circle, while at a distance the crowd awaited develop-
ments.
In the front rank two young women were standing.
One of them seemed to be greatly amused at the
gratuitous entertainment, the other appeared preoccu-
pied and depressed.
"Come, Marie Pascal, don't be so absent-minded.
You look as if you were at a funeral."


44
A ROYAL PRISONER
The other, a workgirl, tried to smile and gave a
deep sigh.
"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Rose, to be out of sorts,
but I feel very upset."
Two police officers tried to force their way to the
musicians and after some difficulty they succeeded in
arresting the flute and the trombone players.
This act of brutality occasioned some commotion
and the crowd began to murmur.
The employes of La Capitale now brought up
several handcarts and improvised a sort of platform.
Gentlemen in frock coats then appeared on the scene
and gathered round it. One or two were recognized
and pointed out by the crowd.
"There's M. Dupont, the deputy and director of
La Capitale."
A red-faced young man with turned up moustaches
was pronounced to be M. de Panteloup, the general
manager of the paper.
As a matter of fact, those who read La Capitale
had been advised through its columns that an attempt
would be made to solve the mystery of the Singing
Fountains, which had intrigued Paris for so many
weeks. A small army of newsboys offered the paper
for sale during the ceremony. Marie Pascal bought a
copy and read it eagerly.


A ROYAL PRISONER 45
"They haven't a word about the affair yet," she
cried.
At that moment the powerful voice of M. de Pante-
loup was heard:
"You are now going to hear an interesting speech
by the celebrated archivist and paleographer, M. Ana-
stasius Baringouin, who, better than anyone else, can
explain to you the strange enigma of the Singing
Fountains."
An immense shout of laughter greeted the orator
as he mounted the steps to the stage. He was an old
man, very wrinkled and shaky, wearing a high hat
much too large for his head. He was vainly trying
to settle his glasses upon a very red nose. In a thin,
sharp voice, he began:
"The phenomenon of the Singing Fountains is not,
as might be supposed, wholly unexpected. Similar oc-
currences have already been noted and date back to
remote antiquity. Formerly a stone statue was erected
in the outskirts of the town of Thebes to the memory
of Memnon. When the beams of the rising sun struck
it, harmonious sounds were heard to issue from it. At
first this peculiarity was attributed to some form of
trickery, a secret spring or a hidden keyboard. But
upon further research, it was demonstrated that the
sounds arose from purely physical and natural causes."


46 A ROYAL PRISONER
The crowd which hitherto had listened in silence
to the orator now began to show signs of impatience.
"What the dickens is he gassing about?" shouted
some one in the street.
As the savant paid no attention to these signs the
band struck up a military march. Finally when order
was re-established M. Panteloup himself mounted the
platform.
"This fountain, ladies and gentlemen," he began in
a powerful voice, "was built in 1836 at a cost of a
million and a half francs. In the twenty-four hours
its output is 6,716 cubic yards of water. It is com-
posed, as you can see, of a basin of polished stone,
decorated by six tritons and nereids, each holding a
fish in its mouth from which the water flows out.
Thus far there is nothing unusual and it is therefore
with justifiable surprise that we discover the fact that
at certain moments these fountains actually sing. Are
we in the presence of a phenomenon similar to that
recalled just now by M. Anastasius Baringouin? Are
we, at the beginning of the twentieth century—the
century of Science and Precision—victims of halluci-
nation or sorcery? This, ladies and gentlemen, is
what we are about to investigate, and we will begin
by consulting the celebrated clairvoyant, Madame
Gabrielle de Smyrne."


A ROYAL PRISONER 47
A murmur of approbation greeted the pretty
prophetess as she appeared, but at the same mo-
ment a police officer followed by fifteen men pushed
his way to the foot of the platform and ordered
M. Panteloup to cease attracting a crowd. The lat-
ter, however, was equal to the occasion. After lift-
ing his hand for silence he shouted the famous
cry:
"We are here by the will of the people, we shall
not go away except by force."
The crowd cheered, and with the voices mingled the
barking of dogs.
"Ladies and gentlemen," continued M. Panteloup,
"you hear the wonderful police dogs of Neuilly, Turk
and Bellone. They are coming to help us to scent
out the mystery."
This was to be the termination of the ceremony,
but an unlooked for addition to the program appeared
in the person of one of those Parisian "Natural Men"
or "Primitive Men."
He was a very old, long-bearded man and wore a
white robe. He went by the name of Ouaouaoua, and
his portrait had been published in all city papers. A
hush came over the crowd and then in the silence a
vague metallic murmur was heard above the splash of
the water.


48 A ROYAL PRISONER
This time there was no mistake. The Fountains
were singing.
Thousands of witnesses were present and could
testify to that fact.
The crowd at once associated the arrival of Oua-
ouaoua with the music from the Fountains, and he
was acclaimed the hero of the occasion.
M. de Panteloup, seized with a happy inspiration,
shook hands with Ouaouaoua and pinned on his white
robe the gold medal of La Capitale.
Proceedings were, however, summarily brought to a
stop at this point. The prefect of the police drove up
and his men scattered the crowd in all directions.
Ten minutes after the Place de la Concorde had
assumed its usual aspect and the tritons and nereids
continued to pour out their 6,716 cubic yards of water
every twenty-four hours.


CHAPTER VI
THE INVESTIGATION BEGINS

VIC ART, sub-director of the Police Depart-
ment, was in an execrable humor.
In all his long career such a thing had
never happened before. In spite of the established
rule, he had been deprived of his New Year holiday,
which he usually spent in visits to governmental offi-
cials capable of influencing his advancement.
He had been ordered to his office. His morning
had been spent in endless discussions with M. Annion,
his director. Numerous telegrams, interviews, work
of all kinds instead of his customary rest. Besides,
he had received from his friends only 318 visiting
cards instead of 384, last year's number. It was most
annoying. He was engaged in recounting his cards
when a clerk announced the visit of detective Juve.
"Send him in at once."
In a few moments Juve entered.
Juve had not changed. In spite of his forty-odd
years, he was still young looking, active, persevering
and daring.
49


A ROYAL PRISONER
For some time past he had been left very much to
his own devices in his tracking of the elusive Fan-
tomas, and he was rarely called in to assist in the pur-
suit of other criminals. Therefore he realized that it
was an affair of the very first importance which called
for his presence in M. Vicart's office.
The detective found M. Vicart seated1 at his desk in
the badly lighted room.
"My dear Juve, you are probably surprised at be-
ing sent for to-day."
"A little . . . yes."
"Well, you probably know that the King of Hesse-
Weimar, Frederick-Christian II, has been staying in-
cognito in Paris?"
Juve nodded. He did not think it necessary td
mention the incident that had occasioned this visit.1
"Now, Christian II has, or rather had, a mistress,
Susy d'Orsel, a demi-mondaine. Were you aware of
that?"
"No, what of it?"
"This woman has been murdered ... or rather
. . . has not been murdered . . . you understand,
Juve, has not been murdered."
"Has not been murdered, very well!"
"Now, this woman who has not been murdered
i See "A Nest of Spies."


A ROYAL PRISONER 51
threw herself out of the window last night at three
o'clock; in a word, she committed suicide, at the pre-
cise moment when Frederick-Christian was taking
supper with her . . . you grasp my meaning?"
"No, I don't. What are you trying to get at?"
"Why, it's as clear as day, Juve ... the scandal!
especially as the local magistrate had the stupidity to
arrest the King."
"The King has been arrested ... I don't under-
stand! Then it wasn't suicide?"
"That is what must be established."
"And I am to take charge of the investigation?"
"I put it in your hands."
When M. Vicart had explained the circumstances
of the case, Juve summed up:
"In a word, Frederick-Christian II went to see his
mistress last night, she threw herself out of the win-
dow, the King was arrested for murder; he put in a
denial, claiming that a third person was present, this
third person escaped, an inadmissible hypothesis, since
nobody saw him and the door to the servant's stair-
case was locked . . . this morning the King was set at
liberty, and we have now to find out whether a crime
was really committed or whether it was a case of
suicide. ... Is that it?"
"That is it! But you're going ahead pretty fast.


52 A ROYAL PRISONER
You don't realize, Juve, the seriousness of the suppo-
sition you formulate so freely. . . . You must know
whether it's murder or suicide! Of course! Of course!
. . . but you are too precise. ... A King a mur-
derer . . . that isn't possible. There would be ter-
rible diplomatic complications. . . . It's a case of sui-
cide. . . . Susy d'Orsel committed suicide beyond a
doubt."
Juve smiled slightly.
"That has to be proved, hasn't it?"
"Certainly it must be proved. The accident hap-
pened at number 247 Rue de Monceau. Go there,
question the concierge . . . the only witness. ... In
a word, bring us the proof of suicide in written form.
We can then send a report to the press and stifle the
threatened scandal."
Juve rose.
"I will begin an immediate investigation," he re-
plied, smiling, "and M. Vicart, you may depend upon
me to use all means in my power to clear up the
affair . . . entirely and impartially."
When Juve had gone, M. Vicart realized a sense of
extreme uneasiness.
"Impartially! ... the deuce!"
Hurriedly he left his office and made his way
through the halls to his chief, M. Annion. His first


A ROYAL PRISONER 53
care must be to cover his own responsibility in the
matter.
M. Annion, cold and impassive, listened to his re-
cital in silence and then broke out:
"You have committed a blunder, M. Vicart. I told
you this morning to put a detective on the case who
would bring us a report along the lines that we desire.
I pointed out to you the gravity of the situation."
"But ..." protested M. Vicart.
"Let me finish. ... I thought I had made myself
quite clear on that point and now, you actually give
the commission to Juve!"
"Exactly, Monsieur! I gave Juve the commission
because he is our most expert detective."
"That. I don't deny, and therefore Juve is certain
to discover the truth! It is an unpardonable blun-
der."
At this moment a clerk entered with a telegram. M.
Annion opened it quickly and read it.
"Ah! this is enough to bring about the fall of the
Ministry. Listen!"
"The Minister of Hesse-Weimar to the Secretary
of the Interior, Place Beauvau, Paris—Numerous tele-
grams addressed to his Majesty the King of Hesse-
Weimar, at present staying incognito at the Royal
Palace Hotel, Avenue des Champs Elysees, remain


54
A ROYAL PRISONER
unanswered, in spite of their extreme urgence. The
Minister of Hesse-Weimar begs the Secretary of the
Interior of France to kindly make inquiries and to
send him the assurance that his Majesty the King of
Hesse-Weimar is in possession of these diplomatic tele-
grams."
M. Annion burst out.
"There now! Pretty soon they'll be accusing us of
intercepting the telegrams . . . Frederick-Christian
doesn't answer! How can I help that! I suppose he's
weeping over the death of his mistress. And now
that fellow Juve has taken a hand in it! I tell you,
Monsieur Vicart, we're in a nice fix!"
While M. Annion was unburdening his mind to M.
Vicart, Juve left the Ministry whistling a march, and
hailed a cab to take him to the Rue Monceau.
He quite understood what was required of him, but
his professional pride, his independence and his in-
nate honesty of purpose determined him to ferret out
the truth regardless of consequences.
As a matter of fact, the presence of the King in
Paris was, in part, to render a service to Juve him-
self.1
If, therefore, the hypothesis of suicide could be
verified, Juve would be able to be of use to the King;
i See "Fantoraas," Vols. I, II, III, IV.


A ROYAL PRISONER 55
if, on the other hand, it had to be rejected, his report
would prove that fact.
On arriving at the Rue de Monceau, Juve went
straight to the concierge's office and having shov/n
his badge, began to question her:
"Tell me, Madame Ceiron, did you see the King
when he came to pay his visit to his mistress?"
"No, Monsieur. I saw nothing at all. I was in
bed . . . the bell rang, I opened the door . . . the
King called out as usual, 'the Duke of Haworth'—
it's the name he goes by—and then he went upstairs,
but I didn't see him."
"Was he alone?"
"Ah, that's what everyone asks me! Of course he
was alone . . . the proof being that when they went
up and found poor Mlle. Susy, nobody else was there,
so . . ."
Juve interrupted:
"All right. Now, tell me, did Mlle. Susy d'Orsel
expect any other visitor? Any friend?"
"Nobody that I knew of ... at least that's what
she said to her lace-maker—one of my tenants . . .
a very good young girl, Mlle. Marie Pascal— She
said like this—'I'm expecting my lover,' but she men-
tioned nobody else."
"And this Marie Pascal is the last person who saw


56
A ROYAL PRISONER
Susy d'Orsel alive, excepting, of course, the King?
The servants had gone to bed?"
"Oh, Monsieur, the maid wasn't there. Justine
came down about eleven, she said good-night to me as
she went by . . . while Marie Pascal didn't go up be-
fore eleven-thirty or a quarter to twelve."
"Very well, I'll see Mlle. Pascal later. Another
question, Mme. Ceiron: did any of your tenants leave
the house after the crime ... I mean after the
death?"
"No, Monsieur."
"Mlle. Susy d'Orsel's apartment is reached by two
staircases. Do you know if the door to the one used
by the servants was locked?"
"That I can't tell you, Monsieur, all I know is that
Justine generally locked it when she went out."
"And while you were away hunting the doctor
and the police, did you leave the door of the house
open?"
"Ah, no, Monsieur, to begin with, I didn't go out.
I have a telephone in my room, besides I never leave
the door open."
"Is Justine in her room now?"
"No, I have the key, which means that she's out
. . . she's probably looking after funeral arrangements
of the poor young girl."


A ROYAL PRISONER 57
"Mlle. d'Orsel had no relations?"
"I don't think so, Monsieur."
"Is Marie Pascal in?"
"Yes . . . sixth floor to the right at the end of the
hall."
"Then I will go up and see her. Thanks very much
for your information, Madame."
"You're very welcome, Monsieur. Ah, this
wretched business isn't going to help the house. I
still have two apartments unrented."
Juve did not wait to hear the good woman's lamen-
tations but hurriedly climbed the flights of stairs and
knocked on the door indicated.
It was opened by a young girl.
"Mademoiselle Marie Pascal?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Can I see you for a couple of minutes? I am a
detective and have charge of investigating the death
of Mlle. d'Orsel."
Mlle. Pascal led the way into her modest room,
which was bright and sunny with a flowered paper on
the walls, potted plants and a bird-cage. She then
began a recital of the interview she had had with Susy.
This threw no fresh light upon the case and at the
end, Juve replied:
"To sum it up, Mademoiselle, you know only one


58
A ROYAL PRISONER
thing, that Mlle. d'Orsel was waiting for her lover,
that she told you she was not very happy, but did
not appear especially sad or cast down ... in fact,
neither her words nor her attitude showed any thought
of attempted suicide. Am I not right?"
Marie Pascal hesitated; she seemed worried over
something; at length she spoke up:
"I do know more."
"What?"
Juve, to cover the young girl's confusion, had turned
his head away while putting the last question.
"Why," he remarked, "you can see Mlle. d'Orsel's
apartment from your windows!"
"Yes, Monsieur, and that . . ."
"Were you in bed when the suicide took place?"
"No ... I was not in bed, I saw ..."
"Ah! You saw! What did you see?"
"Monsieur, I haven't spoken to a soul about it; in
fact, I'm not sure I wasn't mistaken, it all happened
so quickly. ... I was getting a breath of fresh air
at the window, I noticed her apartment was lighted
up, I could see that through the curtains, and I said
to myself, her lover must have arrived."
"Well, what then?"
"Then suddenly some one pulled back the hall-win-
dow curtains, then the window was flung open and


A ROYAL PRISONER 61
will notify my chief. ... I may add that we shall not
be long in clearing up this mystery."
Juve had a reason for giving this advice. The more
gossip, the less chance would the police department
have to stifle the investigation.
Marie Pascal slept badly that night. She was too
intelligent not to realize that her deposition had con-
vinced Juve of the guilt of the King, and this troubled
her greatly. She, herself, was persuaded that she had
seen the King throw Susy out of the window, although
she had had no time to identify him positively and the
young girl was alarmed at the importance of her tes-
timony.
However, she determined to follow Juve's advice
and spread the gossip. With that purpose she went
down to see Mother Ceiron. As the concierge was
not in her room she called through the hallway:
"Madame Ceiron! . . . Madame Ceiron!"
A man's voice answered and a laundryman came
downstairs carrying a basket.
"The concierge is on the sixth floor, Madamoiselle.
I passed her as I was going up to get M. de Serac's
laundry."
"Ah, thank you, then I will wait for her."
Marie Pascal took a seat in the office, but at the end


62 A ROYAL PRISONER
of ten minutes she became bored and decided to go out
and get a breath of the fresh morning air.
As she reached the entrance she noticed an article
of clothing lying on the ground.
"A woman's chemise," she exclaimed, picking it up.
"The laundryman must have dropped it."
Then suddenly she grew pale and retraced her steps
to the office.
"Good God!" she cried, leaning for support upon
the back of a chair.


CHAPTER VII
THE KING RECEIVES
THE elegant attache of the Secretary for Foreign
Affairs bowed, saying:
"I am extremely sorry to bring your Majesty
this bad news."
A voice from the depth of the cushions inquired:
"What bad news?"
"I am telling your Majesty that it would be difficult
—even impossible for you to go to the Longchamps
races as you had the intention of doing."
"And why not?"
"The President of the Republic opens to-day the
exposition at the Bagatelle Museum. If your Majesty
went to the Bois de Boulogne you would run the risk
of meeting him. You would then be obliged to stop
end talk a few moments, but as this interview has not
been foreseen and arranged for it would be very awk-
ward."
"That is true."
"That is all I had to convey to your Majesty."
"Let me see, what is your name, Monsieur?"
"I am Count Adhemar de Candieres, your Majesty."


64 A ROYAL PRISONER
"Well, Count, many thanks! You may retire."
The Count gracefully bowed himself out and with a
convulsive movement of the cushions Jerome Fandor
sprang up and burst out laughing.
"Ah!" he cried, "I thought that chap would never
go! Your Majesty! . . . Sire . . . the King . . .
pleasant names to be called when you're not accustomed
to them. I've already had twenty-four hours of it,
and if it goes on much longer I shall begin to think
it's not a joke.
"And the King himself, what's become of him . . .
what is Frederick-Christian II doing now . . . that's
something I'd like to find out."
The journalist had indeed sufficient food for thought.
From the dawn of New Year's Day he had gone from
surprise to surprise. At first he thought he had been
brought to the Royal Palace Hotel at the instigation of
the King. That would have been the simple solution of
the affair. The King must have realized the awkward
predicament in which his companion was placed and in
spite of his drunken stupor he would come to his as-
sistance as soon as possible. As a matter of fact, Fan-
dor had been set at liberty. The journalist therefore
had waited patiently for the arrival of the King, who
was unaccountably late.
Then little by little it began to dawn on him that


A ROYAL PRISONER
65
the hotel people were considering him not as a friend
of the King but as the King himself! Under ordinary
circumstances, he would at once have made his identity
known, but against that there were now a multitude
of objections. His presence in the apartment of the
murdered Susy d'Orsel had created an ambiguous and
disagreeable situation. Again, was the personnel of
the hotel really duped by the substitution?
The situation was becoming more and more difficult
for Fandor. He realized that he was being watched.
The evening before one of the clerks of the Royal
Palace Hotel had informed him that his Majesty's
automobile was ready. For a moment Fandor did not
know what to do, but finally decided to take a chance
for an outing. As soon as he had come downstairs
he regretted his decision. Among the persons lounging
in the lobby he recognized five or six detectives whom
he had known and he realized that the police would
have accurate information as to where he might go.
On reaching the door he saw three or four automobiles
lined up outside. Which one belonged to the King?
Faced by this situation he acted without hesitation, he
turned quickly and went back to the Royal apartment,
where during the rest of the evening he had been left
in peace. The following morning he awoke with a
violent headache, and applied the usual remedy for the


66
A ROYAL PRISONER
neuralgia to which he was subject. He bound up his
head with a large silk scarf which he found in the Royal
wardrobe. During the course of the morning his hotel
bill was brought to him, which amounted to four thou-
sand francs.
"Pretty stiff," he muttered, "for three days' stay. It
may be all right for Frederick-Christian II, but for
a poor devil of a journalist it is rather awkward."
Fandor was wondering what he should do about it
when the telephone rang to announce a visitor. After
listening at the receiver, his face suddenly lighted with
a broad smile.
"Show him up," he answered.
Several moments afterwards a man entered the
apartment. He was about forty and wore the conven-
tional frock coat and light gloves.
"I am," he said, "the private secretary of the Comp-
toir National de Credit and am at your Majesty's dis-
position for the settlement of accounts. Your Majesty
will excuse our sub-director for not having come him-
self to take your orders as it is his pleasure and honor
generally to do, but he has been ill for several days
and that is why I have begged permission for this
audience with your Majesty."
Fandor with difficulty repressed his desire to laugh
and congratulated himself that he had escaped the


A ROYAL PRISONER 67
danger of being shown up by the sub-director who
knew the real King. The Secretary brought with him
a large sum of money which he placed at the disposal
of the sovereign. For a moment Fandor was tempted
to accept the money but his scruples held him back.
If things should turn out badly it would not do to
lay himself open to the charge of usurping the
Royal funds as well as the personality of the King.
So he limited himself to handing over the hotel bill,
saying:
"Kindly settle this without delay and don't stint
yourself with the tips."
A little later a porter entered with newspapers.
Fandor seized them eagerly, but after a single glance
he could not repress a movement of impatience.
"These idiots," he growled to himself, "always bring
me the Hesse-Weimar papers, and I don't know a
confounded word of German. What I would like to
get hold of is a copy of La Capitale."
He rang the bell intending to give the order for a
copy to be sent up, but at that moment a servant an-
nounced:
"Mlle. Marie Pascal is here, your Majesty."
"What does she want?"
The servant handed Fandor a letter.
"Your Majesty has granted an interview to her."


68 A ROYAL PRISONER
Without thinking the journalist asked: "Is she
pretty?"
The employe of the Royal Palace kept a straight
face. He was too much in the habit of dealing with
royal patrons. The King might joke as much as he
pleased, but the same liberty was not granted to others.
He therefore made a deep bow and said with a tone
of profound deference:
"I will send Marie Pascal to your Majesty."


CHAPTER VIII
MARIE PASCAL
OW that he had become a King and was obliged
to receive unexpected visits in that capacity,
Fandor had adopted the wise precaution of
making his visitors wait in the main Salon, while he
retired to the adjoining study. From there, thanks
to a large mirror, he could see them without being
seen himself. Following this precaution he waited for
the appearartce of his visitor and scarcely had she set
foot in the Salon when he experienced an agreeable
surprise.
"Ah, there's a pretty girl."
He was right. She was charming, with her large
clear blue eyes, her fair hair and slight figure.
"By Jove," thought Fandor, "here's a way to fill
up my hours of solitude. It oughtn't to be hard for
one in my position to get up an intrigue, and provided
the lady is not too shy I can begin one of those ad-
ventures one reads of in fairy stories."
Covering his face still further with his scarf and
putting on a pair of blue spectacles he entered the
Salon. The young girl betrayed a slight movement


70 A ROYAL PRISONER
of surprise upon seeing him. At his silent invitation
she sat down on the edge of an armchair without
daring to raise her eyes. Then followed a long pause,
until Fandor recollected that according to etiquette she
was waiting for him to speak first
.
"Well, Mademoiselle, what can I do for you?"
The young girl stammered: "I wanted to see you
. . . pardon ... to see your Majesty ... to tell him
how grateful I am for the laces he ordered from me
. . . that your Majesty ordered."
Fandor began to be amused at the embarrassment
of the young girl, so to set her at ease he remarked:
"Mademoiselle, just talk to me as you would to any-
one else, and as for the laces, I shall be very glad to
order others."
A start of surprise from Marie Pascal gave Fandor
the uneasy feeling that he had made a break.
"Then, your Majesty, I suppose I must send the next
lot to the Queen."
"Of course."
"How about the bill?"
Fandor repressed a smile. Evidently these poor
Kings must have one hand in their pockets. As the
interview continued the young girl regained her con-
fidence, and going close to Fandor, spoke in a tone of
sincere anxiety:


A ROYAL PRISONER 71
"Sire, it was not you ... oh, forgive me." And
then in a lower tone: "I have denounced you, Sire."
Then, dropping to her knees, Marie Pascal repeated
all that had happened. Fandor now realized that the
death of Susy d'Orsel had a witness and that a detective
was now in possession of the facts.
"And this detective! Is he tall, broad shouldered,
about forty-five, with gray hair and clean shaven?"
The young girl was astonished at the accuracy of
the portrait.
"Why, yes, Sire . . . your Majesty is right."
"It can be no other than Juve," thought Fandor
joyfully. Then turning to Marie Pascal, "Now you
must answer truthfully the question I am going to ask
you. Will you tell me why, after accusing me of this
dreadful crime, you have suddenly changed your opin-
ion and come to tell me how sorry you are and that
you are now sure I am not guilty? You must have
very serious reasons for this change of front."
"I have been convinced of your innocence," she re-
plied, "by the most absolute proof." She then re-
counted to Fandor her discovery of the chemise be-
longing to the Marquis de Serac.
"After picking up this chemise I was about to give
it over to Mme. Ceiron, the concierge of the house,
when my eyes happened to fall upon the ruffles on


A ROYAL PRISONER
the sleeves. Attached to the right sleeve were some
shreds of lace which seemed to have been torn from a
larger piece. I am a lace maker and I recognized im-
mediately that these pieces came from a dress I had
just delivered to Mlle. Susy d'Orsel a few hours be-
fore."
Fandor, who was listening with the closest attention,
now asked: "What do you deduce from that, Mad-
emoiselle?"
"Sire, simply that the person who threw Susy d'Or-
sel out of the window was wearing that chemise."
"And," continued the journalist, "as this belonged to
the Marquis de Serac?"
"But it is a woman's chemise."
Fandor quickly realized the importance of this testi-
mony. First, that Susy d'Orsel had really been mur-
dered and secondly that the King Frederick-Christian
had had no hand in it.
"Is your Majesty very unhappy over the death of
Mlle. d'Orsel?"
Fandor glanced sharply at the young woman and
then replied enigmatically: "I am, of course, very
much shocked at the tragic end of this poor girl. But
what is the matter with you?"
Marie Pascal was growing paler and paler and finally
collapsed in his arms. Gently he placed Marie Pascal


A ROYAL PRISONER
on a sofa. For a few moments Fandor sat there
holding her hands. Then she sat up quickly.
"What are you doing?"
Ready to continue what he considered an amusing
adventure, he was about to take her in his arms mur-
muring, "I love you." But she rose quickly and fled
horror-stricken.
"No, no, it's horrible." She sank down covering her
face and crying hysterically.
Fandor rushed over just in time to hear her murmur,
"Alas, and I love you."
A variety of sentiments and impressions passed
through the mind of Fandor. At first, delighted with
the avowal he had heard, he took her, unresisting, in
his arms. Then suddenly he became the victim of a
violent jealousy. For it was not to Fandor she had
yielded but to the King of Hesse-Weimar, Frederick-
Christian. She looked so pretty with her tears and
her love that the situation became intolerable to him.
"Sire," whispered the gentle voice of Marie Pascal,
"may I remind you of a promise? Dare I ask for a
souvenir?" She pointed to a photograph of Frederick-
Christian II.
"All right, all right," growled Fandor, "take it."
She then handed him a pen and asked him to write
a dedication.


A ROYAL PRISONER
"No, I'll be hanged if I do," cried Fandor. Then
seeing that the young girl was beginning to cry again,
he added:
"My dear Marie Pascal, I am very sorry but it is
against the rule for me to write a single word on my
portrait ... It is against the Constitution." The
journalist searched through his pockets to find some-
thing he might give her as compensation, and then
clasped her to his heart as the only thing possible to
do under the circumstances. At this moment a servant
entered and gravely announced:
"Sire, Wulfenmimenglaschk is here." Had the sun
or the moon or the King himself been announced Fan-
dor's amazement would not have been greater. Marie
Pascal was about to slip away embarrassed, hardly
capable of leaving in so much happiness, when Fandor
recalled her.
"Mademoiselle!"
"Sire!"
"What you told me just now about the torn lace you
had better repeat at police headquarters." Then in a
lower tone he continued his instructions. When he
had finished she nodded her head.
Yes, she would go and find Juve, the detective Juve,
as the King had ordered her, and she would tell him
everything.


A ROYAL PRISONER
75
The servant was waiting motionless for the King's
answer.
"Wulfenmimenglaschk," thought he, "that must be
one of those extraordinary German-American cocktails
which Frederick-Christian is accustomed to order."
He turned to the servant:
"Pour it out." At the man's surprise Fandor real-
ized that he had made a mistake. At this moment a
very fat man with scarlet face and pointed moustache
appeared in the doorway and gave the military salute,
announcing in a voice of thunder:
"Wulfenmimenglaschk!"
"Good God," murmered the journalist, dropping
into an armchair. "This time I'm dished. He's come
from Hesse-Weimar."


CHAPTER IX
A PARTY OF THREE

UVE was busy searching in a bureau drawer while
Marie Pascal was going through piles of linen
in her cupboard.
"You are sure you put it there?" asked Juve. "Ma-
dame Ceiron hasn't by any chance taken it away, has
she?"
"Oh, no," replied Marie Pascal, "I am quite sure I
locked it in my drawer, and locked the door of my
room as well."
The room had been turned completely topsy-turvy,
while Juve and Marie Pascal were searching anxiously
and nervously through all the girl's belongings.
When she left the Royal Palace Hotel, Marie Pascal
had gone directly to Police Headquarters, where she
had found Juve. After telling him the history of the
chemise fallen from the Marquis de Serac's laundry,
she had repeated all the details of her interview with
the King and the advice he had given her.
"His Majesty Frederick-Christian was certainly wise
in sending you here," he replied; "to begin with, it
76


A ROYAL PRISONER
proves most conclusively that he has every intention
of denying the crime of which you accused him yester-
day, and of which you no longer accuse him to-day."
Marie Pascal protested: "I never accused him!"
"It amounted to the same thing, for the man you say
threw Susy d'Orsel out of the window could only be
the King, since he was alone with his mistress. . . .
Now we get the further evidence of the chemise found
by you quite by chance . . . and by sending you to me
His Majesty explicitly accuses a woman, the woman
to whom that chemise belonged—of having killed Susy
d'Orsel."
"The first thing to be done, Mademoiselle, is to go
to your room and have a look at this garment. The
Marquis de Serac himself is away, and besides, his
reputation is well known. Therefore, we cannot accuse
him. If the chemise was found among his laundry it
would imply that the murderer, taken by surprise, hid
himself in the Marquis's apartment and either changed
his clothes there or dropped the chemise into the Mar-
quis's laundry-bag on purpose to create a false scent."
Without further words, Juve and the young girl
drove to Rue de Monceau to examine the chemise
which she had found that morning. Marie Pascal un-
locked her door; a few moments later started in amaze-
ment. The chemise had disappeared. Afterward Juve


78
A ROYAL PRISONER
began to wonder whether Marie Pascal had spoken the
truth or whether it was a put-up story between herself
and the King.
"There's no use looking any further," he cried, "some
one has stolen it."
"But it's terrible," replied Marie Pascal. "It is the
only evidence that would clear the King. The only
proof that he is not guilty. How can anyone be sure
that I really found the chemise?"
Juve nodded. "That's what I have been asking my-
self, Mademoiselle."
"Oh, what can be done?"
The anxiety of the young girl interested Juve keenly.
"It's very annoying, Mademoiselle. But, after all, it
only affects you indirectly. The King will have to
explain clearly whether he was alone with Susy d'Orsel
or whether a woman accompanied him."
"Yes, but then they will suspect him . . . Oh, M.
Juve, what do you think?"
Juve gave a dry cough and answered:
"Well, Mademoiselle, this is the way I figure it out.
Susy d'Orsel has been the mistress of the King for
about two years, and as you know constancy is unusual
with men, it is quite possible that Frederick-Christian
had had enough of his mistress and had become inter-
ested in another woman."


A ROYAL PRISONER 79
"That doesn't explain anything."
"Oh, yes, it does. It explains everything. Suppose,
for instance, that the King had fallen in love with
another demi-mondaine, and that had brought her to
the apartment to notify Susy d'Orsel of his intention to
break with her. Might not a quarrel have arisen be-
tween the two women and the new mistress, exasperated
by some taunt, had thrown the unfortunate Susy d'Or-
sel out of the window? . . . That would be a common-
place enough story."
While speaking Juve was watching carefully the ex-
pression on Marie Pascal's face. She had grown very
pale and at the end protested with a cry:
"No, no, you are wrong. The King had not two
mistresses. And besides, the chemise I found was
made of coarse linen, and would not certainly be worn
by that sort of woman."
"Ah," thought Juve, "I wonder if Marie Pascal by
any chance is in love with his Majesty. That would
explain many things. To begin with, the reason why
she was watching Susy's window. Also why the King,
touched perhaps by the caprice of this girl, had had
a row with his mistress, and finally why Marie Pascal,
having seen him again, had invented the story of the
chemise, which could not be found. This young girl
is imprudent . She lets it be seen too clearly how dis-


8o A ROYAL PRISONER
agreeable the hypothesis would be to her. After rea-
soning thus to himself Juve turned to the young girl.
"Well, Mademoiselle Marie, if my supposition is
wrong there can be only one explanation, namely, that
some woman committed the crime, a woman who was
hidden in the apartment and who subsequently hid the
chemise in the Marquis de Serac's laundry bag, and
then having learned of your discovery returned to your
room to recover the compromising article." Marie
Pascal remained silent. Juve continued with the in-
tention of alarming her out of her reserve.
"But if this last supposition is the right one we must
admit that it is none the less unfortunate for the King.
For once the chemise disappeared the King must be
held guilty until further discovery."
Marie Pascal replied simply:
"It is frightful. The more so because I had this
proof in my hand, and I know very well he is innocent."
Juve picked up his hat and began buttoning his
overcoat.
"Naturally, Mademoiselle, you yourself know . . .
and I may add that I am of your opinion, but still you
have no proof to offer, and consequently . . ."
Marie Pascal wrung her hands in desperation.
"What is to be done? How can the truth come to
light . . . . Ah, I shall never forgive myself for having


A ROYAL PRISONER 81
at first accused the King and then losing the proof
of his innocence."
"Oh, don't take it to heart too much. In criminal
affairs the first results of the investigator are really
conclusive."
Juve nodded to the young girl and rapidly went
downstairs smiling to himself. One thing and one
alone had developed from his interview. The King
denied his guilt.
"The only thing I know," he thought, "is that the
concierge affirms that Frederick-Christian was alone
when he came to see Susy d'Orsel. ... If I can prove
that definitely I can also prove by the chain of evidence
that the King is guilty. But how to do it?"
Juve hurried through the courtyard, passing the
office of Mme. Ceiron, who was out at that moment
.
As he had already obtained the key of Susy d'Orsel's
apartment, her absence did not trouble him.
"I'll be willing to bet," he thought, "that I shall find
nothing interesting in her rooms. But it is at least
my duty to go over them carefully. ... If only I
could discover evidence showing that three persons
were there together, but that is most unlikely. The
officers, the doctors, the concierge and the men who
carried the body to the Morgue would have destroyed
all traces."


82
A ROYAL PRISONER
It was not without a slight shudder that Juve en-
tered the apartment where the tragedy occurred. With
a real catch at his heart he went through the bright,
luxuriously decorated rooms, still giving evidence of
a feminine presence.
Death had entered there. The sinister death of
crime, brutal, unforeseen. A hundred times more tragic
for remaining unexplained. Juve, however, quickly
stifled his feelings. He was there to investigate and
nothing else mattered. The bedroom presented noth-
ing worthy of notice, the boudoir was in perfect order,
also the kitchen and the hall.
Juve entered, finally, the dining-room. It was there,
according to the testimony of witnesses, that the crime
must have taken place. It was there in any case that
Susy d'Orsel had received her lover.
Nothing had been deranged. The table was still set
for supper. Two places, side by side, bore mute wit-
ness that the King had been alone with his mistress.
Juve at first carefully examined the general lay of
the room. The disposition of the chairs, the two
knives from the two forks, two fish plates, all went to
prove there had been only two persons at the table.
But suddenly he gave a start and his face expressed
the keenest interest. He dropped to his knees and
carefully examined the floor under the table.


84 A ROYAL PRISONER
"Ah, I have got it now. This is conclusive."
And in fact Juve had made a most important dis-
covery. The heavy legs of the table were joined by
crosspieces and Juve had been able to determine where
Susy d'Orsel had rested her feet. He saw also the
slight traces of mud where the King had rested his
feet. Most important, however, was the fact that fur-
ther traces of mud had been left by a third pair of
feet.
"If only I could identify the feet that were placed
here, and whether they belonged to a woman."
A closer examination of the wood made him rise
to his feet with a cry. Quickly taking a chair, he
placed it before the table in the place that might nat-
urally be occupied by a third guest, and then sat down.
This is what he discovered. It was quite impossible
for a woman to have been sitting there. Having
stretched his legs and rested his feet upon the traces
of mud, he discovered that one of the legs of the
table came directly between his knees. A woman's
skirt would have made this position impossible for
her.
"Why, the King was telling the truth! There were
three persons in this dining-room a few moments be-
fore the crime was committed. And they were Susy
d'Orsel, the King and another man."


A ROYAL PRISONER 85
Juve now threw himself into an armchair and re-
mained buried in thought.
"To sum it up, the King alone is in a position to
give me further information. . . . And if he should
refuse to speak or should attempt to lie I have now
within my hands the means of forcing him to tell the
truth."
He sprang up quickly.
"The next thing to do is to go and see the King."


A ROYAL PRISONER 87
"Head of the Secret Service of the Kingdom of
Hesse-Weimar and Attache of your Majesty."
Fandor congratulated himself that the table sepa-
rated them. He expected at any moment to be shown
up as an impostor. But thinking the best plan would
be to try and bluff it through he said graciously:
"Sit down, Monsieur Wulf."
"But that isn't possible."
"Yes, it is . . . take that chair."
"I should never dare to," answered the police of-
ficer.
Fandor insisted.
"We desire you."
Wulf bowed to such formal instructions, murmur-
ing:
"I do so at the order of your Majesty."
Fandor sprang up amazed.
"Does he take me for the King too? That can't
be possible. The head of the Secret Service! They
must be carrying this joke out to the bitter end. I'm
hanged if I can understand it."
"What do you want?"
The man who since his entrance had not taken his
eyes off Fandor, now appeared to be considering him
with the greatest admiration.
"Ah! Heaven be thanked. . . . My most cherished


88 A ROYAL PRISONER
desire has come to pass. . . . Your Majesty has been
good enough to allow me the honor of a personal in-
terview."
"He must be mad," thought Fandor.
"Of course I was well acquainted with your august
features. . . . Frederick-Christian II is popular in his
kingdom ... his portrait hangs on the walls of pri-
vate houses as well as public buildings. But your
Majesty understands that portraits and the reality are
often dissimilar. . . . Now, although for seventeen
years I have belonged to the Secret Service of the
Kingdom, I have never before had the honor of meet-
ing his Majesty face to face."
"So, Monsieur Wulf, you think I don't look like my
portrait."
"Pardon me, Sire, that is not what I wish to
say. The portrait represents your Majesty as being
taller and heavier, with a larger moustache and fairer
hair."
"In other words," said Fandor, smiling, "my por-
trait flatters me."
"Oh, Sire, quite the contrary, I assure you."
"Well, what do you want?"
Wulf was evidently waiting for this question. He
rose from the seat and made a careful inspection of
the room, opening each door to see that no one was


A ROYAL PRISONER 89
outside listening. Then he returned to Fandor and
whispered:
"I am here on a secret mission, Sire."
"Well, let's hear what it is."
"I am charged with two commissions, one which
interests your Majesty, the other the Kingdom. To
begin with, I have come to get your reply to the tele-
gram in cipher which his Highness the Minister of
the Interior sent your Majesty yesterday."
"The deuce," thought Fandor, "this is getting an-
noying. What on earth shall I tell him?"
Then with an air of innocence he asked:
"What telegram are you speaking of? I have re-
ceived none."
"Your Majesty didn't receive it?"
"Well, you know the service is rotten in France."
"Yes," replied Wulf scornfully, "it's easy to see
it's a Republic."
Fandor smiled. If he was compelled to run down
his own country for once, it wouldn't matter.
"What can you expect with the continual strikes
. . . however, that's not our fault, is it, Wulf?"
"Quite true, Sire."
The Chief of the Secret Service leaned toward Fan-
dor and whispered mysteriously.
"I have it, Sire,"


go A ROYAL PRISONER
"What," inquired Fandor, with somewhat of anx-
iety.
"The text of the telegram."
Wulf drew out a document and was about to hand
it to Fandor, but the latter stopped him with a ges-
ture.
"Read it to me."
"His Highness, the Minister of the Interior, begs to
inform your Majesty that since his absence a propa-
ganda unfavorable to the throne is being actively
spread in the Court and in the town. The partisans
of Prince Gudulfin believe the occasion favorable to
seize the Government."
Fandor pretended anger.
"Ah, it's Prince Gudulfin again!"
"Alas, Sire, it is always the Prince."
Fandor repressed a violent laugh.
"Is that all?"
"No, Sire. His Highness the Minister requested to
know, in the name of the Queen, when your Majesty
has the intention of returning to his Kingdom."
Fandor rose and tapping Wulf amicably on the
shoulder replied:
"Tell the Queen that business of the greatest impor-
tance keeps me in Paris, but that before long I hope
to return to the Court."


A ROYAL PRISONER 91
Wulf looked at him without answering, and Fandor
added with great dignity:
"You can go now."
"But I have a formal order not to return to Glotz-
bourg without your Majesty, and when your Majesty
is ready I am at your orders. Even to-night."
Then he added in a low tone:
"That would be a pity, for in Paris . . ."
Fandor glanced quickly at him. So this fat police
officer was like the rest of the world. He, too, wanted
to have his fling in Paris.
At this moment they were interrupted by the ar-
rival of the servant carrying a tray of cocktails. Fan-
dor turned smilingly to Wulf.
"Have a cocktail, Wulf?"
The officer almost choked with delight. In Hesse-
Weimar he would never have imagined that his King
could be so charming and simple in private life. He
made some remark to this effect and the journalist
answered:
"Why not, Wulf? Hesse-Weimar and France are
two different places ... we are now in a democracy,
let's be democratic." Then clinking his glass with
Wulf's he cried:
"To the health of the Republic!"
Fandor now led the conversation to the charms and


A ROYAL PRISONER
seductions of Paris, and he pictured the delights of
the city in such glowing terms that Wulf's little eyes
sparkled and his purple face became even more con-
gested. He lost his timidity. He expressed a wish to
see the Moulin-Rouge and the Singing Fountains.
"What do you know about them?" inquired Fandor.
"Why, they speak of nothing else in Hesse-Wei-
mar."
"You shall hear them then. . . . Look here, Wulf,
are you married?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Then I'll bet you deceive your wife."
"Hum! I should be sorry if my wife heard you say
that. For up to now . . ."
Fandor laughed.
"Oh, we Kings know everything. Even more than
your Secret Service."
"That's true," cried Wulf, "absolutely true."
"Wulf, Paris is the town of charming women. I
am sure they will please you greatly. And as I have
no need of your services to-morrow I will give you
your liberty."
The officer was about to break into thanks when
the door opened and a servant announced:
"Will your Majesty receive Monsieur Juve V
"Show him in."


A ROYAL PRISONER
93
When the detective entered and heard Fandor ad-
dressed as His Majesty he opened his eyes and stood
staring, while Fandor himself was obliged to stuff
his handkerchief into his mouth to prevent himself
from roaring with laughter.
Juve began:
"What does this mean? . . ."
But Fandor quickly stepped, forward.
"Monsieur Juve, let me introduce you to Monsieur
Wulf. Monsieur Wulf is the head of the Secret Serv-
ice in my Kingdom of Hesse-Weimar."
Then tapping Wulf familiarly on the shoulder he
added:
"He's one of the greatest detectives in the world.
He was able to find the King of Hesse-Weimar right
here in this apartment. . . . Though he had never seen
me, he found me and recognized me!"
The officer beamed with delight at the compliment.
Fandor then conducted him to the door, whispering
advice as to the best way of passing his night in Paris.
Scarcely had the ridiculous Wulf disappeared when
Juve seized Fandor by the shoulder.
"Fandor! What does this mean?"
"Why, Juve, simply that I'm the King of Hesse-
Weimar—of which fact you had a proof just now."


94 A ROYAL PRISONER
But Juve's face was serious.
"Now, without joking, tell me what you are doing
here."
When Fandor had finished his explanation Juve
seized him by the hand.
"Where is the King, Fandor?"
"I have already told you. I haven't the least idea.
And, furthermore, I don't care."
"You are crazy to talk this way. What is happen-
ing is extremely serious."
"Why?"
"Simply because a charge of murder has been
brought against Frederick-Christian."
"Very few people know it," exclaimed the journalist.
He stopped speaking suddenly. Outside the mur-
mur of a crowd grew louder and louder as it ap-
proached. Juve and Fandor ran to the window just
in time to receive a volley of stones which broke the
glass in several places. The two men sprang back.
"Put out the lights!" cried Juve.
Below them the avenue was black with people.
After a moment they could distinguish what they were
shouting.
"Murderer! Murderer! Down with the King!"
"That surprises you, Fandor," exclaimed Juve, "but
for the last forty-eight hours I have been watching


A ROYAL PRISONER
95
this trouble grow, and I tell you it is going to end
badly."
At the head of the mob and more daring than the
others appeared a strange individual. A long-bearded
old man, dressed in white, was endeavoring to force
his way into the hotel and a fight was taking place
at the door.
"I know him," muttered Juve, "I have seen him once
or twice before trying to raise a row about this affair."
"Why it's Ouaouaoua, the Primitive Man," cried
Fandor.
A squad of policemen now arrived on the scene, and
without much difficulty succeeded in dispersing the
mob.
"Well, Juve."
"Well, Fandor."
"To tell you the truth, Juve," admitted the jour-
nalist, "I am beginning to get a little uneasy. How-
ever, this manifestation is against Frederick-Christian,
not against me. . . ."
Juve interrupted.
"Idiot, don't you understand what's happening?
Either one of two things. You are the King, and
therefore in the opinion of the public the murderer
of Susy d'Orsel, or you are not the King, and in that


96 A ROYAL PRISONER
case you are an impostor, which will make it all the
more likely that you will be considered as the mur-
derer."
"Not much," cried Fandor. "You seem to forget
it was I who picked up . . ."
"Who knows that?" continued Juve. "Why, my
dear fellow, think for a moment, if the King is guilty,
and even if he is not, he will be only too glad to throw
the responsibility for this tragedy upon your shoulders.
. . . That would let him out of it completely. The
situation could not be much worse. Suppose that this
evening, to-morrow, at any moment some one finds out
that you are not the King, you will then not only be
suspected of the murder of Susy d'Orsel, but you will
be accused of having done away with the King. . . .
Where is the King? You haven't the least idea Then
what answer could you make?"
"The devil," murmured Fandor, suddenly growing
pale. "I didn't think of that. You are right, Juve,
I am in a bad fix."
There was a moment of silence. The two men
looked at one another, troubled and anxious. Then
Fandor, struck by a sudden inspiration, seized his hat
and cane.
"What are you doing?" inquired Juve.
"I . . . Why I'm going to clear out."


CHAPTER XI
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN STATIONS
N leaving Fandor, Juve walked up the Avenue
Champs Elysees, refusing the offers of vari-
ous cab drivers. He felt the need of move-
ment as an antidote to his growing worry over the
affair. On arriving at the Rue Saussaies, Juve sent
up his card to M. Annion and requested an immediate
interview. In a few moments he was shown into M.
Annion's office.
"Well, what's new? What's the result of your
investigation, Juve?"
"There is nothing much to report yet. The theory
of suicide is possible, although a crime may have
been committed. Whether the King is involved or
not in this affair is still uncertain. It will take me a
week at least to find out."
"In other words, you know nothing yet. Well, I
can tell you a few things you don't know. Pass me
those documents."
M. Annion looked through the papers and then
continued:
"When Vicart saw you this morning he forgot to


A ROYAL PRISONER
give you some of the instructions I had charged him
with. ... I sent two of my men to the Royal Palace
Hotel. . . . Do you know what they found?"
"No, I haven't the least idea. There was nothing
to learn at the Royal Palace itself."
"On the contrary, they made an extraordinary dis-
covery."
"What was it?"
"They discovered that the King is not the King.
The individual who is posing as Frederick-Christian
II is an impostor. Rather sensational news, isn't it?"
"So sensational that I don't believe it."
"And why not, if you please?"
Juve avoided a direct reply. He asked:
"Upon what do you place this supposed impos-
ture?"
M. Annion took up the papers before him.
"I have the evidence here before me. But first I
must tell you how our suspicions became aroused. . . .
This morning, after your departure, we received a
telegram from Hesse-Weimar inquiring why Fred-
erick-Christian did not reply to the telegram sent him
from his kingdom. . . . That gave me an inkling of
what was going on. . . . I sent to the Royal Palace
Hotel and there my two detectives learned that Fred-
erick-Christian had gained the reputation of being


IOO
A ROYAL PRISONER
extremely odd, in fact, half crazy. Furthermore, that
he was acting in a manner totally different from that
of former occasions. He now scarcely moves from
his room, whereas previously he spent most of his
time out of doors."
M. Annion handed Juve the documents and begged
him to look them over himself. After returning them
Juve realized that his best chance would be to gain
time.
"This is going to cause a great deal of trouble. If
an impostor is really installed in the Royal Palace
Hotel we shall have to notify the Chancellor and ask
for the authorization to verify ... In other words,
a number of tiresome formalities will have to be
complied with."
"Wait a minute, I have more surprises for you.
We now have the press on our trail. All the evening
papers publish articles inferring the guilt of the King.
. . . They come out boldly accusing him of murder.
Would you believe that at seven o'clock this evening
there was a shouting, howling mob in front of the
Royal Palace? And so, my dear Juve, you had better
take two men with you, and without delay go to the
hotel and arrest the man who is passing for the
King, and who is, besides, the murderer of Susy
d'Orsel."


102 A ROYAL PRISONER
the King better than either of these. I refer to the
head of the Secret Service of Hesse-Weimar . . .
one of my colleagues. He is at present staying at
the Royal Palace and sees the King every day. Con-
sequently it will be scarcely possible to deceive him."
"What is his name?" asked M. Annion.
"It's rather complicated; he calls himself Wulfen-
mimenglaschk, which we may cut to Wulf for all
practical purposes. What should you think of his
testimony?"
M. Annion hesitated.
"Of course, if this individual knows the King . . ."
"He is attached to the King's person."
"And you are sure he recognized him at the Royal
Palace?"
"I'll bring him here and let him speak for him-
self."
"Well, I'll give you until eleven to-morrow morn-
ing to produce this Wulf ... or whatever he calls
himself; if then he cannot positively affirm that the
King is really the King, you must arrest the impostor
immediately. If, on the other hand, he does recog-
nize him, we must refer the matter to the Minister of
Foreign Affairs."
"That is understood," replied Juve, and he took
his leave.


A ROYAL PRISONER 103
As Juve found himself again in the Rue de Saus-
saies his face clouded over.
"Twenty-four hours gained anyway, but I wonder
where the devil I can get hold of this Wulf? I might
catch him at the Moulin-Rouge . . . Fandor sent him
there."
Juve drove to the music hall and, showing his card,
questioned the officials.
"I'm looking for a fat little man, probably slightly
drunk, foreign accent, wears a brown coat, tight
trousers, white spats, and is plastered all over with
decorations."
"I saw him," cried one of the ushers. "I checked
his overcoat and noticed the decorations. He left
some time ago."
"Confound it!" muttered Juve. "You don't know
why he left so early? The show is only begin-
ning."
The usher smiled.
"Well, he carried a couple of girls away with him.
Probably he's in some nearby cafe."
Juve decided to spend the whole night, if neces-
sary, to find Wulf, and began a systematic search
through all the cafes of Montmartre.
At length, about three in the morning, he decided
to give himself a rest and take a drink. For this


104
A ROYAL PRISONER
purpose he entered a small cafe at the corner of the
Rue de Douai and the Rue Victor-Masse, and ordered
a beer. He put the usual question:
"You don't happen to have seen a fat little man,
drunk and profusely decorated?"
The proprietor at once grew excited.
"I should think I have seen him. He came in
here asking for some outlandish brand of cigar-
ettes, and ended by taking the cheapest I had, then
paid for them with foreign money. And when I
refused to take it, he threatened me with some King
or other! Aren't we still a republic, I should like to
know?"
Evidently, from the description, it could be no other
than the peripatetic Wulf.
"Was he alone?" asked Juve.
"Oh, he brought in a little blonde with him, but
when she saw his fake money, I guess she gave him
the slip, for he turned to the right and she went up
the street in the opposite direction."
"The devil!" exclaimed Juve; "the trail is lost
again."
A waiter stepped forward.
"I think he went to the Courcelles Station; he asked
me where it was."
"The Courcelles Station!"


A ROYAL PRISONER 105
Juve stood staring in amazement. What on earth
could Wulf want to go there for?
"Have you a telephone?" he asked.
"Yes, Monsieur."
With great difficulty Juve succeeded in getting the
connection.
"Hullo! Is that your Majesty?"
Fandor's voice replied, laughingly:
"Yes, it's His Majesty all right, but His Majesty
doesn't like being wakened up at night. What can I
do for you, my dear Juve?"
"Can you tell me where Wulf is?"
"How should I know? Probably with some women,
he seems crazy about them."
"No, he hasn't any French money."
"Hold on, Juve; I advised him to take the circular
tube as the best method of seeing Paris. I told him
to stay on board till he reached the end of the line.
Just a little joke of mine."
Fandor burst out laughing, and Juve rang off,
angrily.
Once in the street, he stood a moment in doubt as
to his next course. If Wulf was really taking a trip
in the circular tube, he would be in process of going
round and round Paris. How was it possible to over-
take him?


io6 A ROYAL PRISONER
Hailing a taxi, he explained to the chauffeur:
"Look here, I want you to take me to the Courcelles
Station . . . there we must find out in what direction
the first train passes, either toward Porte Maillot or
toward the Avenue de Clichy . . ."
The man stared stupidly and Juve found it neces-
sary to explain in a few words the quest he was setting
out upon.
"If our man isn't on the first train that passes Cour-
celles, then we must hurry over to the Bois de Bou-
logne Station, understand?"
Juve had the luck to learn from the ticket seller at
Courcelles that she had noticed Wulf, and that he
had bought a first-class ticket; this limited the search
very considerably.
The first train pulled in, but Wulf was not on
board.
Juve sprang into his taxi and now hurried over to
the Bois de Boulogne. Here the same result met him;
the next station was Auteuil, then Vaugirard, la
Glaciere and Bel-Air.
It was now eight o'clock, and his appointment with
M. Annion was at eleven. What was to be done?
On reaching Menilmontant Station, Juve had about
decided to abandon the chase.


A ROYAL PRISONER 107
"I'll wait for one more train and then make some
other plan," he muttered.
By great good luck he caught sight of Wulf as it
ran into the station. Rushing into the carriage, he
seized his man and hauled him on to the platform.
"What's the matter? Why are you here, Monsieur
Juve? I am perfectly amazed . . ."
"Where are you going, Monsieur Wulf?"
Wulf smiled fatuously:
"I have been following his Majesty's advice, seeing
Paris. What an immense cityl I counted one hun-
dred and twenty-seven stations since five o'clock this
morning and I have crossed ten rivers 1 Why have
you stopped me? I wanted to go to the end of the
line."
Juve bustled him into the waiting taxi.
"I'll explain as we go," he replied. "It is a question
of saving the King. He is menaced by powerful and
terrible enemies."
"I am ready to die for him," exclaimed Wulf.
"What must I do?"
"Oh, it's not necessary to die. All you have to do
is to certify before the police authorities that the per-
son you know as Frederick-Christian at the Royal
Palace is actually the King."
"I don't understand in the least what you mean!"


A' ROYAL PRISONER
109
right . . . anyhow, don't forget to take letters of in-
troduction with you."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I can get all I want
from my colleague."
"Your colleague?"
"Yes, from this excellent Wulf."
s


CHAPTER XII
CAMOUFLAGE
"y"^OME in and sit down, Monsieur Wulfen-
\j mimenglaschk."
The Marquis de Serac led the way into
his study.
He was a powerfully built, white-haired man, in
the sixties, still active, with a slightly tired voice, a
typical man of the world in his manners and dress.
Very embarrassed, Wulf bowed and bowed:
"I am confused, Monsieur. Quite confused . . .
I"
X • • •
"Not at all, Monsieur Wulf; now take off your
overcoat, sit down and smoke a cigar. I assure you
it's a great pleasure for me to talk to anyone coming
from Hesse-Weimar. I left the court when I was
very young, and I should be a stranger in Glotzbourg
to-day; still I remember my very goad friends there
. • . but never mind that now, we have more impor-
tant subjects to discuss, Monsieur Wulf, and I'm
sure you are in a hurry."
"Oh, not at all; I am only too happy and too
proud . . ."
no


A ROYAL PRISONER in
"Yes, yes, Paris is a city of temptations, and I
won't take too much of your time. First of all let
me explain that I only received your letter yesterday,
as I happened to be out of town. You state that I
am in a position to render you a great service; this 1
shall be delighted to do as soon as you tell me what
it is."
Wulf began a long and rambling story to the effect
that upon leaving Glotzbourg for Paris, on his spe-
cial mission to the King, he had conceived the idea of
writing to the Marquis de Serac, whom he knew to
be an intimate friend of the King, to give him a letter
of introduction to His Majesty.
"But now I don't need it," he ended, "for the King
is my best friend ... he received me with charming
simplicity, just like an old comrade."
"Alas, my dear Wulf, His Majesty is at present
exposed to the most terrible danger."
"What do you mean?"
"You have doubtless heard of the tragic death of
Mlle. Susy d'Orsel, the King's mistress, which, by a
curious coincidence, occurred in this very house?"
"I know! I know!"
"Well, perhaps you also know that among the
King's enemies, some dare to accuse him of having
killed Mlle. Susy d'Orsel?"


ii2 A ROYAL PRISONER
"Oh! Such people ought to be cut in pieces."
"Alas, Monsieur Wulf, we are not yet in a position
to avenge His Majesty. You don't happen to know
who the real murderer is, do you?"
"No, I haven't the least idea; but if I ever get hold
of him, I shall know what to do!"
The Marquis smiled and shrugged his shoulders:
"I shall be glad to help you."
"Thanks, Monsieur le Marquis, but I'm afraid we
shan't succeed. There's a French detective on the
case, a man named Juve, who hasn't been able to find
the man either!"
The Marquis gave a slight start:
"Ah, and Juve has found nothing, suspects no-
body?"
"No."
"That is strange. . . . Well, Monsieur Wulf, I
think we shall be able to do better. You are ready
for anything?"
"For everything, on my honor!" replied Wulf,
with fervor.
"Very well, then I promise you we shall have some
news within a week. But excuse me a moment, I
have some orders to give; I won't be a moment."
The Marquis crossed the room and opened the door;
Wulf could heaf him talking:


A ROYAL PRISONER 113
"Is that you, Madame Ceiron?"
A woman's voice answered:
"Yes, Monsieur le Marquis. What can I do for
you?"
"Kindly unpack the bag in my room and when you
go out be sure to lock the doors. I don't want a re-
currence of what happened the other day when some
one entered my apartment and left a chemise belong-
ing to the murderer among my laundry."
"Monsieur le Marquis may rest assured his orders
will be obeyed."
In a few moments the Marquis returned and M.
Wulf rose to go. He repeated with emphasis his
determination:
"If ever I get the chance to arrest this murderer,
I will do so in the face of any danger. All for the
King! That is my motto!"
"Yes, you are right, Monsieur, all for the King."
The Marquis de Serac bowed his visitor out, and
then suddenly his smiling face underwent an astound-
ing change of expression.
"I must clinch my alibi!"
In a moment he had torn off his false whiskers and
his wig of white hair was quickly replaced by another
—this time a woman's wig. With the agility of a
Fregoli he then got into a skirt and waist.


H4 A ROYAL PRISONER
—1
Forty seconds after the departure of Wulf the Mar-
quis de Serac had become . . . Madame Ceiron, the
concierge.
Three or four pencil marks and his disguise was
complete. It would be impossible for anybody not
having seen this transformation to guess that the
Marquis de Serac and old Madame Ceiron were one
and the same individual.
After a quick glance into his mirror he rushed
across his drawing-room, through the hall, and quickly
opened a large Breton wardrobe. Through the centre
of this rose a post which he seized and slid down. It
was the same contrivance used by firemen to join their
engines when a call was sent in. At the foot of the
post in Madame Ceiron's apartment were stretched
two mattresses to deaden the fall. These were placed
in a small storeroom, well hidden from observation.
After closing the door behind her, Madame Ceiron
rushed to the hall in time to intercept Wulf on his
way downstairs.
"You are looking for some one?" she asked.
"No, Madame, I have just come from the Marquis
de Serac's apartment."
After Wulf had disappeared Madame Ceiron re-
turned to her office and was about to enter when a
voice called:


A ROYAL PRISONER 115
"Here I am, Madame Ceiron. I found your note
under my door. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Ah, it's you, my child. You are very kind to have
come, and there is something that you can do for me.
I want to know if you will come upstairs to Susy
d'Orsel's room with me."
"What on earth for?"
"Well, I'll tell you. It's this way: I am scared to go
up there all alone."
Marie Pascal smiled.
"Of course it is rather appalling, but why do you
go there, Madame Ceiron?"
"Well, you see, the police have put their seals over
everything and I am paid one franc a day to see that
nobody enters the apartment and breaks them. I have
to take a look around from time to time, so won't you
come with me?"
"Certainly, Madame Ceiron."
Marie Pascal and the concierge went up together
and began a careful examination of the poor girl's
rooms. While the young girl was looking curiously
around Madame Ceiron entered the boudoir. She
crossed to the chimney and pulled out a small casket,
which was hidden behind a blue curtain. She opened
it quickly and inspected the contents.
"Jewels! Which would be the best to take? Ah,


n6
A ROYAL PRISONER
this ring and this bracelet . . . and these earrings.
Now for the key. I'll take that with me."
"Mam'zelle Marie Pascal!"
"Madame Ceiron?"
"Come along, my dear. I am so frightened, it up-
sets me to go through this poor girl's apartment. Just
run and see if the outer door is locked."
While Marie Pascal turned her back and walked
toward the door, Madame Ceiron suddenly pressed
against a large box which fell over and spread a fine
coal dust over the carpet.
"It is locked, Madame Ceiron."
"Then come along. I hope to Heaven this business
will soon be cleared up or it will make me ill."
A few moments later Marie Pascal had returned
to her own bedroom and the concierge busied herself
by opening in her office a parcel which she had taken
from a cupboard. She was interrupted in her work
by the arrival of a working woman who was engaged
to take Madame Ceiron's place when she had errands
to do.
"I am going to leave you alone here to-day,
Madame. I have some shopping to do. ... I am go-
ing to spend my New Year's gifts, buy a green dress
and a hat with red feathers. ... It is my turn to
dress up a little."


A ROYAL PRISONER 117
Shortly afterwards the concierge went out, taking
with her the parcel she had prepared. - But instead of
going to the shopping district of Paris, she hurried
toward the Bois de Boulogne.
When she had reached a remote part of the wood
she entered a small hut. A few moments later visi-
tors to the Bois noticed the well-known Ouaouaoua,
the Primitive Man, walking down the main pathway.
The enigmatic and dreamy face of this man resembled
neither the Marquis de Serac nor Madame Ceiron and
yet . . .
The science of camouflage pushed to its extreme
limits produces the most unexpected transformations.


CHAPTER XIII
THE KINGDOM OF HESSE-WEIMAR
"T "TAS Monsieur le Baron any trunks to be ex-
I I amined? This is the Hesse-Weimar Cus-
toms."
These words, spoken in a respectful but guttural
voice, startled Juve from the deep sleep into which
he had fallen after a very unpleasant night. The de-
tective opened his eyes and stretched himself.
The pale light of dawn struggled through the win-
dows of the sleeping car, the curtains of which had
been carefully drawn. Outside nothing was to be
seen, for besides the mud which covered the windows
a heavy fog lay over the country.
The train came to a standstill, and before Juve stood
an individual dressed in an elegant blue and yellow
uniform plentifully covered with gold braid. Juve
looked around to see the man who was being addressed
by the title of Monsieur le Baron and finally came
to the conclusion that it was himself to whom the
man was speaking.
"Why do you call me Monsieur le Baron?" The
118


A ROYAL PRISONER 119
man touched his hat deferentially and seemed very
surprised at the question.
"Why, Monsieur . . . it's the custom. No one but
the nobility travel first class."
Juve smiled and replied:
"That's all right, my friend, but in the future'call
me simply, 'Marquis.'"
The official again saluted and seizing Juve's valise
traced on it the cabalistic chalk mark which allowed
it to pass the frontier.
The evening before, the detective had taken his
seat in the 10.50 express from the Gare du Nord in
Paris for Cologne and Berlin. He had the good luck
to find that a sleeping car had been attached to the
end of the train which would take him directly to
Glotzbourg. At the frontier he changed into a local,
which jogged peacefully along, stopping every few
minutes at small stations. The country of Hesse-
Weimar spread out attractive and varied. Numerous
small hills crowned with woods succeeded the green
valleys they passed through. The houses were Swiss
in architecture and seemed built for comfort and
elegance. The little Kingdom seemed to breathe peace,
simplicity and well-being. On his arrival at Hesse-
Weimar, Juve had not been without some apprehension.


120
A ROYAL PRISONER
During his last interview with Monsieur Annion he
had put forward the opinion that an investigation in
Hesse-Weimar would do much to clear up the mystery
surrounding the affair. As a matter of fact, it was
more to gain time than for any other reason that Juve
had suggested this. He had not mentioned to his
chief that his real object in going to Glotzbourg was
to try to obtain a clue as to the real or apparent dis-
appearance of the King Frederick-Christian II.
The formal declaration of the grotesque Wulf had
reassured the French authorities as to the fate of the
King, but to Juve, who knew that Fandor was installed
at the Royal Palace, the search for the real King was
of paramount importance.
"Glotzbourg. ... All out!"
The detective seized his bag, hurried out of the
car, hailed a cab and drove to the Hotel Deux-Hemi-
spheres, which had been recommended by his colleague.
After engaging his room Juve asked the porter to tele-
phone to the police to find out when Heberlauf could
see him. While waiting for the reply he took a
bath and changed his clothes.
After having washed and shaved, he was about to
go down to the lobby of the Hotel when a knock came
at the door.


A ROYAL PRISONER 121
"Come in!" he cried.
A very tall and thin individual with a parchment-
like face entered and bowed ceremoniously.
"To whom have I the honor . . .?" Juve inquired.
"I am Monsieur Heberlauf, head of the police at
Hesse-Weimar. . . . Have I the pleasure of speaking
to Monsieur Juve?"
Juve, surprised at the visit, excused the disorder
of the room and tried to make his guest comfort-
able.
"Monsieur Wulf advised me of your intended visit
to our Capital."
In a very few moments Juve was able to size up
his man, who seemed only too anxious to impart in-
formation about himself and his affairs. While quite
as simple-minded as Wulf, he appeared far more sin-
ister. Juve also divined without much difficulty that
his wife, .Madame Heloise Heberlauf, was the best
informed woman in the kingdom regarding gossip
and scandal.
"In fact," declared .the chief of police, "I can be of
very little assistance to you, Monsieur. But my wife
can give you all the information you need."
Juve made it clear to Monsieur Heberlauf that he
wished to obtain an entry to the Court as soon as
possible.


A ROYAL PRISONER
turned in knee breeches and a dress coat which per-
mitted him to enter the presence of royalty.
"Don't be late," Madame Heberlauf advised, "for
the Queen is very punctual, and there are a number
of formalities to go through before you can be pre-
sented to her."
The Palace of the King was on the outskirts of the
town, and was reached by a drive through a Park
which the inhabitants had named Pois de Pulugne.
It was built upon the top of a hill and had a fine view
over the surrounding country. The garden surround-
ing the Palace had been artistically laid out, a fine lawn
stretching away from the main entrance. The build-
ing itself was a miniature copy of Versailles. Having
left his carriage at the gate Juve followed Madame
Heberlauf's instructions and made his way to the left
wing of the Palace. Upon his card of introduction
was written the title "Comte," for, as Madame Heber-
lauf had explained, the Queen had a penchant for
meeting members of the nobility. "Your welcome
will be made much easier if you are thought to be
noble," Madame Heberlauf had explained. As it was
imperative that the reason for Juve's visit should be
kept from the Court, he had arranged a little story
with Madame Heberlauf.
The Comte Juve was a Canadian explorer who, after


124 A ROYAL PRISONER
a trip through Africa, was coming to spend some
time at Glotzbourg and was anxious to meet the reign-
ing family.
"God forgive us the lie," exclaimed Monsieur He-
berlauf, "but as Monsieur Juve's mission is in the
interest of the King Frederick-Christian, we are thor-
oughly justified in the deception."
The Queen's chamberlain, Monsieur Erick von
Kampfen, after carefully examining Juve's credentials,
led the detective into a drawing-room in which were
already gathered a number of persons. An officer,
in a wonderful uniform, came forward and introduced
him to several of his companions.
"Princesse de Krauss, due de Rutisheimer,
colonel ..."
Juve was not surprised at this. The excellent
Madame Heberlauf had warned him that such was the
usage of the Court, and that before being admitted to
the presence of the sovereign, the guests were intro-
duced to one another. Juve was on his guard against
committing the slightest imprudence, but his new
friends were quickly at ease with him and very ami-
able in their attentions. He was soon surrounded by
a number of young women begging for details of his


A ROYAL PRISONER 125
explorations. Among these people Juve picked out
the Princesse de Krauss, a stout woman with exagger-
ated blonde hair and red spots on her face, barely dis-
guised under a thick layer of powder. She seemed
to be ready for a more personal conversation which
Juve insensibly brought to bear upon the royal couple.
"Will His Majesty the King be present at the
Queen's reception to-day?"
The Princess looked at Juve in amazement, and then
burst out laughing.
"It is easy to see you have just arrived from the
middle of Africa, or you would know that His Maj-
esty the King is in Paris. . . . Surely you must know
that, since you tell me that you came through Paris
on your way here."
The Duchess de Rutisheimer, a rather pretty and
distinguished looking woman, drew the detective apart
and whispered behind her fan:
"Our King is a gay bird, Count, and we know very
well why he goes to Paris."
The Duchess spoke with such an air of annoyance
that Juve could hardly prevent a smile.
"One might criticise His Majesty for going so far
away to seek what was so close to hand."
"Ah, indeed, you are right," the Princess sighed,
"there must be something about these Parisian women.


126
A ROYAL PRISONER
... I heard that the dressmakers of the Rue de la
Paix are going to bring out some Spring models which
are so indecent . . ."
M. Erick von Kampfen, the chamberlain, entered
the room at this moment and announced:
"Ladies and gentlemen, kindly pass into the gallery.
Her Majesty the Queen will be ready to receive you
in a moment."
Behind him came the little Due Rudolphe, who
was informing some of his friends as though it were
a fine piece of scandal:
"The Grand Duchess Alexandra hasn't come yet
. . . and they are wondering if she will come."


CHAPTER XIV
QUEEN HEDWIGE RECEIVES
OBEDIENT to the Grand Chamberlain's invi-
tation, the assembled guests passed into the
great gallery at the end of which an immense
salon was seen, still empty; it was the room in which
the Queen held her drawing-room.
It was sparsely furnished; a large gilded armchair,
which was really a throne, stood at the farther end
between two windows; the floor was waxed until it
shone, and the surface was so slippery that Juve felt
some fear of mishaps.
First came the guard with a clatter of sabres, then
two heralds, and finally Her Majesty Hedwige, Queen
of Hesse-Weimar, who proceeded to the throne and
sat down.
She was a little body with a pinched and nervous
expression of face. She trotted along like an old
woman, her shoulders hunched up, and distributed
nods right and left in response to the profound bows
of her courtiers.
This was not in the least as Juve had pictured her.
He had seen her a dozen years previously, when she
was a young girl engaged to Frederick-Christian; she
127


A ROYAL PRISONER 129
"I congratulate you, Monsieur, and I beg you to
persevere in the work to which your special aptitude
calls you."
The interview was at an end, and Juve was left,
wondering whether he should leave the room. The
Chamberlain signed to him to retire behind the throne,
where he found the amiable Mme. Heberlauf.
Juve, now standing quite close to the Queen, was
enabled to overhear the next interview; with an old
professor this time—Professor Muller. The Queen
said:
"I am very happy to meet you. I congratulate you
upon your pupils. I am especially interested in
scholars."
Then turning to the Chamberlain:
"We have some very excellent schools here, have
we not, Monsieur Kampfen?"
"Quite true, your Majesty."
"I congratulate you. Can I beg you to persevere
in the work to which your special aptitude calls you?"
It was all Juve could do to keep from bursting into
laughter.
The same speech was being made to a couple of
young girls who were making their debut at the
Court, when the circle round the Queen noticed that
she was growing uneasy and preoccupied. Finally


130
A ROYAL PRISONER
she turned to her first maid of honor, and cried in a
sharp tone:
"Really, Madame, it is extraordinary that the elec-
tric lights should have been turned on while it is still
daylight! . . . Kindly see that they are extinguished."
The first maid of honor, very embarrassed, passed
along the order to the second maid of honor, who in
turn hunted up the lady of the household, who relaid
the message to the captain of the guard, and while
he went in search of the proper subordinate, the at-
tention of the Court was distracted by the entrance
of an individual to whom everybody paid the greatest
deference.
The Chamberlain announced:
"His Highness, Prince Gudulfin!"
The Prince was a distinguished looking young man
of twenty-five, clean-shaven and dressed with extreme
care and richness of attire.
He presented a great contrast to his cousin, the
Queen of Hesse-Weimar, and as he approached the
throne, his head high and a sarcastic smile on his lips,
Hedwige seemed to shrink into her armchair, unable
to meet the look in his eyes.
The suppressed hatred of the reigning dynasty for
the younger branch was of ancient date and a matter
of common knowledge. The recent and prolonged


132 A ROYAL PRISONER
he saw what was troubling the Queen, and stepping
aside he turned off the lights.
"There is no such thing as unnecessary economy, is
there, cousin?" he murmured with a smile.
Hedwige blushed and gave him a furious look. She
then proffered the tardy invitation to sit by her side.
As the audience came to a close, the Queen in a loud
voice announced:
"I wish to inform you that I have received news
of the King. His Majesty is well and is in Paris.
He will return very soon."
The Queen's guard now led the way back to the
private apartments, followed by the maids of honor,
and then the Queen herself hurried off as though glad
to be finished with the whole affair.
Juve, an attentive listener to the numberless in-
trigues on foot on every side, divined the comedies
and tragedies which underlay this little Court, more
gossipy and vulgar than a servant's parlor. Especially
he noted the frequent and bitter allusions to the per-
petual trips of the King to Paris. These cost the
royal treasury a pretty penny, and for the twentieth
time Juve heard references to a certain red diamond
belonging to Frederick-Christian. He had known for
a long time that such a diamond was numbered among
the crown jewels, and that it was supposed to rep-


A ROYAL PRISONER
133
resent a value of several millions, but he had imagined
it was kept in a place of safety. Now he learned that
the King was suspected of having pawned it to raise
money. With his most innocent air, he questioned
one of the officers.
"I should think it a very simple matter to find out
whether the King took the diamond with him. It
must surely be in the keeping of loyal and tried
officials."
The officer smiled:
"My dear Count, it is easily seen that you come
from the depths of Africa. Otherwise you would
know that the diamond is hidden in the private apart-
ments of the King—nobody knows where, not even
the Queen. You may easily divine the uneasiness of
the people and the advantage the affair gives to Prince
Gudulfin."
Juve now felt that the King was still in Paris. The
problem thus far had become clearer. But under what
conditions was he living? It was quite possible that
he had been kidnapped by some person who knew of
the diamond's existence.
While pondering these matters, Juve had uncon-
sciously wandered away from the salon and now
found himself in the ante-room on the ground floor.
Here he came face to face with Mme. Heberlauf, who


134 A ROYAL PRISONER
was accompanied by a white-haired old man whom she
at once introduced.
"Count de Juff, let me present the Dean of the
Court, the Burgomaster of Rung Cassel ..."
"The deuce!" thought Juve, "a bore, by the look
of him!"
Escape was hopeless, the Burgomaster seized the de-
tective by the arm and announced:
"I am the author of a work in 25 volumes on "The
History of the Dark Continent." Now I hear that
you have just returned from a journey of exploration
in Africa and ..."
The old historian dragged Juve into the Palace
gardens and the latter thought:
"Hang it, I couldn't have pitched on a worse intro-
duction, I don't know the first thing about Africa."
But the author of the 25 volumes quickly set him
at ease. For he began by admitting that he himself
had never set foot out of Glotzbourg.
Under these circumstances Juve recovered his nerve
and glibly discussed the peculiarities of the African
fauna.
An hour later the two men were still talking, but
this time it was Juve who was anxious to keep the
conversation going. The good Burgomaster had


A ROYAL PRISONER
135
drifted into gossip about the affairs of the Kingdom;
suddenly he turned to the detective with a ques-
tion:
"Do you believe in this story about a visit to
Paris?"
Juve hesitated and then made an ambiguous re-
ply.
The Burgomaster continued:
"Personally, I don't. You see, my windows look
toward the large octagonal wing in which are the
apartments of the King. Now, for the past week I
have noticed strange lights moving about in these
supposedly empty rooms, and I have a notion that
our dear King Frederick-Christian is very far from,
being in Paris. In fact, I think he is held a prisoner
in his own Palace!
"Ah, Monsieur, you cannot imagine the intrigues
which are being hatched against that noble heart; the
black wickedness of the soul of Prince Gudulfin, hid-
den under the exterior of his seductive person!"
Juve was impressed. He was inclined to give some
credence to the suppositions of the Burgomaster.
For, after all, his search in Paris for the King had
been without result and he had had the presentiment
that his trip to Hesse-Weimar would throw some light
upon the strange disappearance of the monarch.


136 A ROYAL PRISONER
So, while the old man was talking, Juve carefully
noted in his mind the minutest architectural details
of the octagonal tower which stood out clearly against
the sky.


140
A ROYAL PRISONER
from time to time, and at moments shook the walls of
his prison, then died away to a faint murmur.
Frederick-Christian now tried to collect his thoughts
upon the situation and bring some sort of order to his
mind.
Susy d'Orsel was dead . . .
The King had felt no deep love for the girl. Still,
he had been fond of her in a way and her sudden
death affected him deeply.
He himself was a prisoner. But a prisoner of
whom? Evidently of those who had killed his mis-
tress. Again, in all probability, they did not con-
template killing him since they had had the opportunity
to do so and he was still alive and unharmed. This
being so, they would not let him die of hunger and
thirst.
His watch had stopped and he had no way of
measuring the lapse of time; but his attention was
called to the fact that the rumbling noises were hap-
pening at greater intervals.
"The pulse-beats of a man are separated by inter-
vals of a second," he thought, "and by counting my
pulse I can determine the interval between the rum-
bling, and thus gain some idea of the passing hours."
He was about to put this plan into practice when
a sudden cry escaped him:


142 A ROYAL PRISONER
longer, and dragging himself to the box, he seized -
the ham and began to devour it ravenously. This
brought on a maddening thirst, which he tried to
quench by long draughts of the wine. Then he be-
came very drunk and so, laughing and crying, he
drank until he lost consciousness once more.
"Sire! Can you hear me?"
A sharp voice broke the silence. It seemed to come
from a distance.
"Sire, can you hear me? . . . Answer!"
Frederick-Christian sprang up.
"Who is speaking? Who are you? Help! Help!"
The voice, mocking and authoritative, answered:
"Now, then, keep quiet. I am not within reach, so
it is useless to cry for help."
"Scoundrel!" cried the King.
"There's no use in behaving like a child . . . you
won't gain anything by it."
"Pity, pity! ... I will make you rich ... I will
give you anything you ask, only set me at liberty . . .
take me out of this prison or I shall become mad."
"Have you done with your lamentations?"
"I'll be revenged!"
"I am beyond your vengeance, Sire, and you would
do well to talk quietly with me."


144
A ROYAL PRISONER
"You are stupid, Sire. I repeat, once in possession
of the diamond, I will set you at liberty."
"Lies!"
"Sire, consider a moment. It would be practically
impossible for me to realize anything like the value
of the diamond. To sell it I should be obliged to
break it into small pieces, and in that case it would
scarcely fetch more than twenty millions. Now, I
have a better suggestion to offer."
"What is it?"
"You are to give me directions how to find it
.
Once in my possession, you are free. You will then
draw the sum of fifty millions from your bank. As
King that will be quite possible. This money you
will turn over to me in exchange for your diamond.
And don't think you will be able to catch me. I shall
take care that the exchange is made without witnesses,
and in such a way that I run no risk of arrest. Now,
what do you say to my proposition?"
"I refuse."
"Very well, then in two hours you will be dead. I
pledge my word for it. . . . And my word has some
value. Perhaps you guess who I am."
"Who? Who?"
"I am Fantomas, Sire."
At this name of horror and crime, Frederick-Chris-


A ROYAL PRISONER 145
tian was seized with the utmost terror. In a broken
voice he replied:
"I accept."
And then in trembling, disjointed sentences, he gave
up the secret of the hiding place in his Palace at Glotz-
bourg.


CHAPTER XVI
THE THEFT OF THE DIAMOND
QUEEN HEDWIGE had had a serious and
legitimate reason for bringing her reception
"to an abrupt conclusion. A Court ball for
the high functionaries and dignities of the Kingdom
was to take place that evening.
Furthermore, the Queen was very much exercised
over the rumor that the Grand Duchess Alexandra
was to be present. This woman, still young and very
beautiful, played an important role in the small world
of the Palace. It was said by the gossips that she
accepted the attentions of Prince Gudulfin, in the hope
that some day she might share the throne of Hesse-
Weimar with him. For many years she had been a
great traveler but in recent times she had spent more
and more of her time in Glotzbourg, where she con-
tinually met the Prince.
While Juve had experienced no difficulty in being
present at the Queen's audience, he found that even
Mme. Heberlauf's influence was not sufficient to pro-
cure him an invitation to the ball. As a matter of
t


A ROYAL PRISONER
147
fact, he had no particular wish to appear in the qual-
ity of a guest that evening. He had other plans.
At ten o'clock a long line of carriages and automo-
biles began to arrive in the gardens of the Palace.
Innumerable electric lights shone out along the drive-
way and from the windows. A few persons had man-
aged to slip past the guards and had stationed them-
selves near the awning at the main entrance to watch
the arrival of the guests. Beneath their fur cloaks,
the women wore their very finest gowns and their
richest jewelry.
The hall of the chancellory had been transformed
into a cloakroom and there the crowd was thickest.
In contrast to the brilliantly illuminated left wing of
the chateau, the octagonal tower showed dark and
silent . Hiding behind pillars, keeping close to the
walls, a man was making his way slowly toward that
tower.
The man was Juve.
From behind a big tree he stood and watched the
sky, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.
"This is a night after my own heart," he murmured,
"overcast and dark. I should have been very em-
barrassed had the moon come out."
He felt his pockets.


148
A ROYAL PRISONER
"Everything I need. My electric lamp and a good,
strong, silk ladder."
Then, surveying the tower, he soliloquized:
"A fine monument! Solid and strong. They don't
build them like that nowadays."
Juve took a few steps, bent his knees and stretched
his arms, tested the suppleness of his body.
"Ah, in spite of my forty-odd years, I'm still pretty
fit for . . . the work I have to do."
By the aid of the lightning rod, the gutters and the
inequalities in the stones, the detective was enabled to
climb without much difficulty to the first floor.
There he paused to take breath and to examine the
shutters of a window.
"Can't get in that way," he muttered, "they're bolted
inside. I'll have to climb higher."
The same condition met him on the second floor,
but when he had finally reached the roof, he espied a
large chimney which promised a method of ingress to
the apartment below. The descent was anything but
easy, and Juve, in spite of his great strength and
agility, was used up by the time he had reached the
bottom. His clothes were torn and he was covered
with the greasy soot he had accumulated on his jour-
ney. By dint of brushing and scraping, he succeeded


A ROYAL PRISONER 151
stopped in his work and waited, listening. The sound
of footsteps some distance off struck his ear. With-
out a moment's hesitation he put out his light and
darted behind the curtains. It was a good position to
take up for he could see without being seen.
The footsteps drew near, the door opened and a
light from an electric lantern similar to the one Juve
had used, was thrown into the room.
The individual advanced to the bed, all unaware
of Juve's presence. Stooping down, he began feel-
ing the foot of one of the bedposts, which at this
point formed a bulge. In an instant the wood parted
and disclosed a hollow in which lay a jewel case. The
jewel case contained the famous red diamond.
Juve's heart began to thump as he watched the man
open the case and take out the diamond. Its facets re-
flected the light, multiplying the gleams and bringing
into relief the features of the robber.
Then it was that the detective uttered a great cry,
a cry of agony, of anger and of triumph. The man
was wrapped in a great cloak, his face hidden by a
black mask, but there was no mistaking his identity.
It was Fantomas.
Juve's cry called forth another, ferocious and men-
acing, and then in a moment the room was plunged
into darkness and the two men sprang at one another.


A ROYAL PRISONER
Two revolver shots rang out. The dancers heard them
in the ballroom and stopped dancing. The musicians
heard them and ceased playing.
At once a stampede ensued.
Two officers of the guard rushed to the door lead-
ing to the King*s apartments, and flung it wide open.
One of them turned on the electric light and, followed
by the frightened guests, entered the King's bedcham-
ber.
At the foot of the bed, struggling in a long cloak,
a man with his hands over his face lay moaning. By
his side was a smoking revolver, and on the ground
the empty jewel case.
"Arrest him!" somebody cried.
In a moment a number of hands had seized and
bound him. It was noticed that his eyelids were fear-
fully swollen and the eyes bloodshot.
What had happened!
The struggle between Juve and the monster had
scarcely lasted a second.
The detective had fired point blank at the black mask
and as his finger pressed the trigger he had felt the
whistle of a bullet past his ear.
Then a door had opened slightly, letting in a thin
shaft of light. To his amazement, Fantomas no longer


A ROYAL PRISONER
153
stood before him, but an officer in the uniform of the
Queen's lancers.
Juve was not taken in by this quick change, and was
on the point of firing again when suddenly his eyes
were filled with a blinding powder, burning and blister-
ing the pupils. He had been blinded by pepper. In-
stinctively he put his hands to his face, and in that mo-
ment he felt himself enveloped in the long cloak in
which Fantomas had entangled him. Falling to the
ground in agony he then heard the cry:
"Help! Help!"
By the sudden and growing noise, he realized that
the crowd was drawing near. When he had struggled
to a sitting posture, he found himself a prisoner.
The sudden change from darkness to bright light
increased the pain in his eyes, but with a superhuman
effort he was enabled to pick out the superb uniform
of the false lancer. Pointing to him, he cried:
"Arrest him, why don't you arrest him!"
Brutally, he was told to keep quiet.
The noise of the theft spread rapidly and the great-
est confusion reigned in the Palace. Many of the
women fainted. Finally M. Heberlauf arrived. He
appeared immensely important, and confided to a group
his opinion of the affair, adding this restriction:
"At any rate, that is what my wife believes."


154 A ROYAL PRISONER
Mme. Heberlauf had, in fact, after an interview with
one of the officers, announced it as her opinion that
the thief so providentially arrested was no other than
the world-famous and unseizable Fantomas.
And then a queer thing happened. When the Grand
Duchess Alexandra heard this sinister name spoken,
when she knew that Fantomas had been arrested, she
staggered as though struck to the heart and fell faint-
ing into the arms of her friends.
"Fantomas!" she murmured, "Fantomas arrested!
Can it be possible?"
Juve was taken away tightly bound. He seemed in-
different to the clamor of the crowd and constantly
looked from side to side as though searching for some-
thing or somebody. Suddenly, as he passed the group
surrounding the Grand Duchess Alexandra, he made
a violent effort and dragged his captors close enough
to enable him to see the fainting woman's features.
One look was enough, and then without further resist-
ance he allowed himself to be marched away. He had
found out what he wanted to know; he had recognized
in the Grand Duchess the mistress of Fantomas, the
accomplice of his most dreadful crimes. He had seen
Lady Belthaml


CHAPTER XVII
ON THE RIGHT TRAIL
"r | iHE Bureau of Public Highways, if you
please?"
"What is it you wish to inquire about?"
"I want some information as to the probable dura-
tion of certain repair works."
"Ah, then go to the fourth floor, number 54, door
to the right at the end of the passage."
"Thanks."
With a slight nod, the visitor entered the huge build-
ing on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, which houses the
offices of Public Works. He was a young man, dressed
in a long black overcoat, a derby hat, which he wore
well down over his eyes, and a wide bandage that cov-
ered one eye and part of the cheek.
After climbing the four flights indicated, he dis-
covered that he had evidently taken the wrong stair-
case. There was nothing to do then but to go back
to the porter's lodge and get more explicit instructions.
But after taking a few steps, he hesitated.
"Fandor, old chap," he soliloquized, "what's the
155


A ROYAL PRISONER
157
"You are not a reporter?"
"I am not a reporter. I am an advertising
agent."
"Ah, that's different. The office you are looking
for is number 43, the door opposite . . . but there's
nobody in now. However, you can wait."
Fandor crossed and entered room 43, where, after
a moment, he discovered an occupant tucked away be-
hind an enormous pile of books and manuscripts. This
clerk was absorbed in a yellow-covered novel and
greeted Fandor with evident ill-humor.
"What d'you want?"
"I would like to know, Monsieur, the probable dura-
tion of the repair work in operation at the Place de
la Concorde."
"And why do you want to know that?"
"I am an advertising agent, and I may have a propo-
sition to offer to the city."
"And at what point is this work in operation?"
"At the corner of the wall of the Orangery and the
Quay."
After consulting a large register, the clerk turned
to Fandor, shutting the book with a bang.
"Nothing is being done there. You are mistaken."
"But I've just come from there. There is a ditch
and a palisade."


158 A ROYAL PRISONER
"No, no, no such thing. In every quarter of Paris
the police are obliged to notify me of any public works
in operation, and an entry is made in my register to
that effect. Now, I have no record of the repairs you
speak of, consequently they don't exist."
Fandor left the office, hailed a cab and ordered the
driver to take him to the National Library.
"Hang it," he muttered, "I saw the ditch and the
palisade myself! Now, if they are not the work of
the city, it will be interesting to find out what is going
on there. . . . Ah! suppose this idiot Wulf was not
deceived! Suppose he really heard the Singing Foun-
tains the other evening giving the last bars of the na-
tional hymn of Hesse-Weimar!"
Arrived at the National Library, Fandor began a
long and minute search through volumes on architec-
ture, on statuary and a multitude of guide books to
Paris! He was so engrossed in his work that when
four o'clock struck he sprang up suddenly.
"Good heavens! I've scarcely time to get back to
my apartment, change into my kingly clothes and meet
Wulf, to become once more His Majesty Frederick-
Christian!"
In his apartment in his own house, the extraordinary
Marquis de Serac, who was also the common Mme.


A ROYAL PRISONER 159
Ceiron, was whispering to a person hidden behind the
curtains.
"You understand, don't move and listen with all
your ears, and promise me not to interfere until I give
you permission!"
"I promise, Monsieur le Marquis," replied the in-
dividual in a low tone.
"All right, then 111 have her in."
The Marquis crossed the room and opened a door.
"Come in, Mademoiselle, and forgive me for keep-
ing you waiting. I had visitors."
"Oh, Monsieur," replied Marie Pascal, for it was
the young seamstress, "don't mention it . . . and let
me thank you for your recommendation to the King.
I got two big orders from it."
"Oh, I was very glad to be of service to you with
Frederick-Christian. ... I regret only one tiling,
Mademoiselle, and that is the unhappy events which
have clouded His Majesty's visit to Paris."
"Yes, indeed," replied Marie Pascal, "and in such
a tragic way, too!"
"A tragic way, Mademoiselle? I imagine this has
quite upset you."
"Yes."
The Marquis emphasized his words.
"So I thought, so I thought . . . especially you."


A ROYAL PRISONER 161
ness of one person is made of the tears of another.
You would have suffered. You would have been jeal-
ous."
As though against her will, Marie Pascal repeated
in a low voice:
"Yes, I should have been jealous."
"Terribly jealous, for Susy d'Orsel was pretty. Be-
sides, a liaison with her wasn't taken seriously by the
King . . . while with you it would have been quite
different . . . why, I believe you would have reached
the point of wishing her death."
"No! no r protested Marie feebly, "the King would
have made his choice . . . frankly and loyally. . . ."
"And suppose he hadn't chosen? Suppose he had
hesitated before the possible scandal of a rupture?
Don't you care enough for him to realize that the very
idea of sharing him with another would have been in-
tolerable? . . . What I am saying sounds brutal, I
know, but I am frank with you. . . . Believe me, you
would have been driven to hate the unfortunate Susy."
"To hate her? Yes, . . . perhaps ... for I
should have been jealous!"
And then suddenly Marie realized what her words
meant: that she had betrayed her cherished secret . . .
her love. In a moment she burst into sobs and col-
lapsed on the sofa.


162 A ROYAL PRISONER
The Marquis de Serac very gently tried to reassure
her.
"Don't cry, my poor child. After all, you are la-
menting imaginary misfortunes which I have so im-
prudently imagined. . . . They don't exist, and never
could exist, for it is a fact that Susy d'Orsel is no
longer a rival to be feared. Think rather of the fu-
ture which smiles upon you. You love and you have
some reason to hope that you are loved in return,
so dry your eyes . . . fate has withdrawn the one
obstacle which existed between you and the King."
Tremblingly, Marie Pascal rose.
"Forgive me, Monsieur, for this stupid scene. I
lost my self . . . control. ... I confessed a feeling
which I should have kept a secret . . . . I'm so con-
fused I no longer know what I'm saying ... so please
let me go."
The Marquis, with exquisite politeness, opened the
door for her.
"Promise to come and see me again, Mademoiselle;
before long I shall probably have something further
of interest to say to you."
When the door had closed upon Marie Pascal, the
Marquis drew aside the poitieres.
"Come out, my dear fellow. . . . We shall be alone
now!"


166
A ROYAL PRISONER
"I had to listen to that idiot Wulf jawing away all
yesterday evening . . . and if I remember right, he
said something about being suspicious of that little
Marie Pascal. I'll have to stop him making more blun-
ders. He's quite capable of having her arrested. Any-
way, Wulf is to do nothing till the return of Juve, and
that will give me time to take my precautions."
Fandor and Wulf had just finished a very excellent
dinner, which Fandor paid for out of his own pocket.
He was careful not to take any of the royal funds
for his personal use. Wulf hovered on the border-
land of drunkenness, but his ideas still showed some
coherence. For the twentieth time he asked Fandor
the same question:
"But, Sire, why the deuce are you wearing a false
moustache and whiskers to-day?"
"So that I may not be recognized, my friend. I
don't like having to give royal tips everywhere."
Fandor was not speaking the truth. His disguise
was assumed for other reasons. He did not wish
to be recognized either as Frederick-Christian or as
Fandor. Since noon—and it was now ten o'clock at
night—the two men had been doing Paris together,
and Wulf had received the very gratifying appellations
of "my excellent friend," "my subtle detective," and


A ROYAL PRISONER 167
other flattering names, so he was now dreaming of
decorations, new decorations created especially for
him.
Fandor interrupted his thoughts by patting him
familiarly on the shoulder:
"Now that we've had dinner, I'm going to tell you
something. We've had quite a day of it; we've visited
the Bois, where you spat in the lake, the action of a
reflective mind; we've been to the top of the Arc de
Triomphe and to the Madeleine, so now there is only
one joy remaining."
Wulf nodded: "To pay for the dinner."
"Not exactly," laughed Fandor, "that's more of a
penance. No, I was referring to a chance meeting, a
charming feminine figure, a kiss, a caress. Wulf, what
would you say to two plump white arms around your
neck?"
Wulf became purple in the face.
"Oh, Sire, that would be great! But when I am
with your Majesty, I don't look at women."
"And why not, Wulf?" 1
"Because the women only look at you."
"That's so, Wulf, that's so; but there is a way of
fixing that. You order a drink which I will pay for,
then sit here and count all the carriages that pass in
the street while I do an errand, it will only take twen-


168 A ROYAL PRISONER
ty-five minutes. . . . I'm going to see a girl I know
you understand?"
"Yes, Sire. Must I count all the carriages?"
"No, only those drawn by white horses. Au revoir,
Wulf."
Fandor left the cafe and hailed a cab:
"Rue Bonaparte. I'll tell you where to stop." He
settled back in his seat, an anxious frown on his
face.
"I'll just drop a hint to Juve," he thought. "One
never knows what may happen. ... I suppose he'll
be back soon . . . to-morrow morning or evening
. . . and won't he be glad to hear the result of my
search!"
Fandor tapped on the glass with his cane, got out,
paid the driver and made his way to the house where
Juve lived. He still had his pass-key and let himself
in, calling:
"Hello! Juve, are you in?"
There was no answer, so Fandor sat at Juve's desk
and wrote a long letter, then tracing a diagram upon
another sheet, he put them into an envelope addressed
to "Monsieur Juve—Urgent."
When he rejoined Wulf, he found the faithful de-
tective on his job.
"I've counted up to 99, Sire, but I'm not quite sure


A ROYAL PRISONER
169
that I'm exact. A bay horse passed, and I wasn't sure
whether to count him or not."
"That's all right, we'll take this up another time.
I've spoken of you to my little friend and she is crazy
to meet you, Wulf."
"Oh, Sire! Sire!"
"Yes ... so come along."
"To her house?"
"Oh, no—this lady is poetic, she wants the first
meeting to take place in appropriate surroundings."
While Wulf was cudgeling his brains to think up a
verse or two to fit the occasion, Fandor guided him
down the Rue Castiglione, the Rue de Rivoli and at
length reached the Place de la Concorde. He cast an
anxious glance as he passed at the mysterious repairs,
repairs not indexed by the administration, and then
turned to the Singing Fountains.
"Sire, is this the place?"
"Yes, Wulf, but first there are a few formalities
to be gone through."
The two men had reached the parapet overlooking
the Seine.
"You are to stand here, Wulf, and look down at the
water. You are not to take your eyes off it."
"Why? What does your Majesty mean?"
"Because I have a surprise in store for you, and


A ROYAL PRISONER 173
However, complete silence reigned about him,
broken only by the steady and distant snoring.
Then, lighting his electric lamp, Fandor began a
survey of the premises into which he had so daringly
intruded.


CHAPTER XIX
free!
AFTER a brief inspection, a cry of surprise rose
to his lips.
"Good Lord! . . . there he is! Frederick-
Christian."
It was indeed the King—a prisoner in the hollow
foundations of the Singing Fountains.
"Sire, Sire!"
The King slept on. But his sleep seemed troubled;
he breathed in gasps.
"Sire! Sire! Wake up! I have come to save
you! Upon my word, that is what might be called a
royal sleep."
The journalist's words made no impression on the
sleeping monarch, so, ignoring all formality, he laid
hands upon the King and gave him a violent shaking.
"For Heaven's sake, try to recognize me . . . speak
to me ... I am Jerome Fandor . . . I've come to
save you."
In leaning over the sleeping man, Fandor suddenly
got a whiff of his breath and then drew back, amazed.
"Why, he's drunk! As drunk as a lord! Where
174


A ROYAL PRISONER 175
the deuce did he get it? . . . Ah, these empty bottles!
. . . Wine! . . . and ham ... no wonder! What on
earth shall I do with him now? How can I get him
out of here? I can't leave him in the hands of the
cutthroats who have imprisoned him. . . . But if I do
take him away, how the devil will Juve and I be able
to catch the accomplices of Fantomas, if he has
any?"
"Juve!"
The very name of the detective gave him an inspi-
ration.
"Yes, that's the only way out of it . . . first of all,
I must save the King, get him out of danger, and then
arrange a trap to catch my gang." Fandor deliber-
ated a moment.
"There's no doubt I shall run the risk of being
killed in his place, but that's a risk I shall have to
take."
And then a smile spread over the journalist's fea-
tures.
"What an idiot I am! After all, there's no danger
... it was a happy thought of mine leaving that note
for Juve . . . he'll come to-morrow at the latest . . .
that gives me the rest of the night."
Fandor's ruse, its daring and its almost unheard.of
devotion, appeared to him quite natural. It was sim-


176 A ROYAL PRISONER
ply to set the King at liberty and remain himself in
his place.
While he undoubtedly ran the risk of a bullet in
his body, yet the carefully drawn plan he had left
in Juve's rooms would enable the detective to find
his prison without difficulty.
The first problem that presented itself was to get
the drunken King away.
Frederick-Christian lay, an inert mass, quite in-
capable of rendering any assistance. Fandor began
by drawing himself up to the opening and taking a
look around. The Place de la Concorde was deserted.
"Well, to work!" he cried. "There is nothing for
me to do but to haul him out, then put the body of
the statue back in place. ... If in three days nothing
happens, why I shall be free to leave. The ham will
keep me going, and as for the wine . . . Ah! an idea!"
The journalist seized half a dozen of the empty
bottles, climbed out and filled them with water; re-
turning, he drew from his pocket a thin silk cord he
had taken from Juve's room. By its aid and with a
strength of which his slender figure gave no evidence,
he succeeded in hauling the King up to the open air.
"And now for another foot bath," exclaimed Fan-
dor; "saving Kings is a sorry business."


A ROYAL PRISONER 177
Having waded again through the icy water of the
basin, Fandor carried the unconscious monarch upon
his shoulders and deposited his burden on the side-
walk. He was about to regain his dungeon when he
suddenly paused:
"The deuce! I was forgetting! When he becomes
sober again, he'll have forgotten all about his adven-
ture . . . he'll kick up a row at the Royal Palace.
... I must warn him."
Fandor took out his notebook, wrote a few lines
which he enclosed in an envelope and pinned it upon
the King's coat. Upon the envelope was written:
"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


178 A ROYAL PRISONER
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 sec anything, and noth-
ing to hear . . . hold on, I can distinguish three sep-
arate noises, the plash of the water from the foun-
tains, 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'Or-
sel, the imprisonment of the King, are both the work
of Fantomas! Fantomas must have known this hid-
ing 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


A ROYAL PRISONER 179
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 ter-
rible 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 situa-
tion he sank to the ground, a cry escaping his lips:
"Juve! Juve! If only Juvc finds my letter. If
only he comes to save me!"


CHAPTER XX
FREDERICK-CHRISTIAN
"A NOTHER drink, Monsieur Louis?"
J~\ "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 Freder-
ick-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 bar-
keeper, who in his turn offered a round of drinks on
the house.
180


A ROYAL PRISONER 181
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 expan-
sive:
"Do you know, Monsieur Louis, that I've actually
saved the King's life twice in five days!"
"Pretty good work," commented M. Louis, po-
litely.
"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 announce-
ment, 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


182 A ROYAL PRISONER
that's another secret. . . . I'll skip the details, it is
enough to say that after waiting a while, I found, in-
stead of the girl, the King, my King. And where?
Beside the Singing Fountains in the Place de la Con-
corde. 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, T 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. ..."


A ROYAL PRISONER 183
"Pardon, Monsieur," interrupted one of the em-
ployes, "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 De-
cember 31st."
Frederick-Christian, the victim of a racking head-
ache, 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.


A ROYAL PRISONER 185
amazement was reached when he came to the follow-
ing paragraph:
"Paris, 4th January. (From our Special Corre-
spondent.) His Majesty Frederick-Christian II is still
held in the French Capital by affairs of the highest
importance. His subjects need, however, be under no
apprehension, as his Majesty's health is excellent, this
information having been received by Hedwige, our
well-beloved Queen.
"During his stay in Paris, Frederick-Christian has
been especially appreciative of the respectful and de-
voted services of M. Wulfenmimenglaschk, head of the
secret service of Hesse-Weimar, who, by the exercise
of his perspicacity and high intelligence, has found in
the King not only an able assistant, but a true friend,
having the honor to occupy the apartment at the Royal
Palace next to his Majesty."
"What's this all about?" exclaimed the King,
"what influence have I been under during these last
four days?"
It was easy enough to recommend him to show no
surprise, but it was also necessary to settle upon
some definite attitude to take. And what about this
"Wuir?
Frederick-Christian would have a look at this in-


186 A ROYAL PRISONER
dividual who claimed to be his friend and his next
door neighbor. Accordingly he rang the bell, and
sent down the message which Wulf received in the
barroom. A wait of twenty minutes followed and
then the door opened without ceremony and the King
stood rooted in amazement at the appearance of his
Secret Service Chief. In the most natural manner in
the world, Wulf entered the room and stood looking
slyly at the King. Then, smilingly, he said:
"Well, Sire, feel better?"
"What!" stuttered Frederick-Christian, scarcely able
to speak for indignation.
"Yes," continued Wulf, "I'm glad to see you up;
as for me, I'm all right . . . but you must remember
that I drank less than you did last night. I tell you
they've capital vermouth here . . . shall I order your
Majesty a bottle?"
"What's your name?" asked the King.
Wulf considered his sovereign with compassion.
"He's still a bit soused," he muttered to himself,
then wagging a reproving finger at the King, he con-
tinued:
"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 ad-
vice. Cut out the booze, Sire, you're distinctly the


188 A ROYAL PRISONER
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. For-
give me for troubling you now but since our last meet-
ing 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 . . ."


A ROYAL PRISONER 189
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-Chris-
tian 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 XXI
HORRIBLE CERTAINTY
"XT THAT 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 buoy-
ancy 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?"
190


A ROYAL PRISONER
191
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?"


192
A ROYAL PRISONER
"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 up this letter by . . ."
Fandor interrupted:
"Why, it's quite simple! Find the third naiad,
counting from the one nearest the bridge."
Suddenly the voice explained:
"Look here, Sire, we are talking at cross purposes.
I am asking you where we can exchange the dia-
mond."
"The diamond?"
"Yes! Your diamond."
Fandor's face grew pale.
"My diamond!"
"The diamond I went to Glotzbourg to get . . .
what's the matter with you, Sire? Don't you remem-
ber? . . . And what's all this about a letter?"
"Why, Juve! I'm talking of the letter I left at
your apartment in which I explained how you may
reach me!"
"Juve! Juve! Oho!"


A ROYAL PRISONER 193
A burst of strident laughter, infernal and diabolical,
reached Fandor, who now guessed the horrible truth.
"If it isn't Juve who is speaking, who is it?" he
cried. "For the love of God, who are you?"
"The person speaking to you ... is Fantomas."
"Fantomas!"
Staggering, terrified, Fandor screamed:
"Fantomas! Fantomas! ... It can't be possible!
Fantomas has been arrested! Fantomas is in the
hands of Juve!"
"Fantomas arrested? . . . Fantomas can't be ar-
rested! He will never be caught! He is above and
beyond every attack, every menace! Fantomas is
Death, Eternal Death, Pitiless Death, King Death!
Good-bye!"
A long silence followed. Fandor was stunned by
the awful reality. He experienced all the sensations of
a man buried alive, condemned to death with torture.
And then another thought flashed through his mind:
"The papers spoke of Fantomas's arrest. But if
Fantomas is at liberty, it must mean that Juve has
been beaten! Juve went to Glotzbourg to arrest him.
A man has been arrested under the name of Fantomas.
That man must be Juve himself!"
And his letter! The first thing Fantomas would
do would be to go to Juve's apartment and destroy it
.


194
A ROYAL PRISONER
"He has got me," he exclaimed. "He can choose
his own time to kill me. He can send down asphyxi-
ating gas or a deluge of water through the connecting
tube, or he can just leave me here to die slowly of
hunger and thirst."
The journalist began pacing up and down his prison.
He tried to recover his calm and argue the case out:
"Here I am in perfect health, clear in my mind
and able to struggle to the bitter end. I have enough
food and water to last me about nine or ten days. In
my pocket I have my revolver, so that I can blow
my brains out if it comes to the worst. But I won't.
I'll fight! I'll fight until I dropl"


A ROYAL PRISONER
The adventuress looked with pitying contempt upon
the little Queen Hedwige:
"Your Majesty has been outrageously deceived,"
she replied, "I belong to a race which is incapable of
such treachery."
Completely reassured, the Queen became very tender
and ended affectionately by wishing the pseudo Duch-
ess a good journey. The two women parted friends.
On a siding in the Glotzbourg station stood a pri-
vate car, which had been placed at the service of the
Grand Duchess, waiting to be connected with the
Paris express from Berlin.
Inside, the Duchess, dressed in a quiet traveling
costume, sat talking to Prince Gudulfin. The young
man was pale and anxious:
"Your orders have been carried out, Madame, are
you satisfied?"
The pseudo Grand Duchess thanked the Prince with
a softened look, and the latter continued in a low
voice:
"Madame, you know that my followers are pre-
pared to try a coup d'Stat—for pity's sake accept the
homage of my love, give me a word of hope, and I
will overthrow the present dynasty and mount the
throne myself with you as my Queen."


A ROYAL PRISONER
199
only a few minutes, the private car was hurriedly at-
tached to the end of the train. In the ensuing hurry
and scurry of passengers who were anxiously being
scrutinized by the Grand Duchess, there appeared a
man dressed in dark clothes, and wearing a gray
beard. He was searching hurriedly through the cars
for an empty seat. The Duchess gave a faint cry at
the sight of him, and withdrew to the back of her
compartment.
Who was it?
The train whistled and the last good-byes were said.
Prince Gudulfin pleaded so urgently for a tender
word, that the adventuress, with the consummate art
of the actress, leaned out, whispering:
"Hope, Prince, hope . . . some day, perhaps . . .
later . . . and remember that even the most virtuous
of women, when she cannot give encouragement, is
not averse to leaving regrets behind her."
During the evening which preceded Lady Beltham's
departure, Juve sat in his cell eating his frugal re-
past.
For forty-eight hours he had seen no one except
his two jailors, and he was beginning to worry over
his situation. There had now been plenty of time
for them to discover their mistake in arresting him.


200 A ROYAL PRISONER
His eyes had pained him greatly the first day but were
now slowly recovering. Feeling a desire to sleep, Juve
stretched himself on his bed and gave way to reflec-
tion.
What had happened?
It was not difficult to guess. The officers of the
Palace, finding him in the King's bedroom, a smoking
revolver beside him and a Lancer crying "Thief!
thief!" had naturally arrested him, thinking him guilty.
Fantomas, after blinding him with pepper, had changed
back into his uniform and escaped with the diamond.
But what was Lady Beltham doing there known to the
Hesse-Weimar people as the Grand Duchess Alex-
andra? What new and diabolical projects were on
foot to bring the monster and his mistress together
in this honest, bourgeois court of Hesse-Weimar?
As for the diamond, of what possible use could it
be to the thief? It would be harder to get rid of than
the obelisk or the Vendome column!
While these thoughts were passing slowly through
Juve's mind, he felt an intense desire to sleep come
over him, his limbs suddenly became numb and heavy;
and then a sudden terror seized him.
"I have been poisoned!" he cried, making a super-
human effort to rise; but the narcotic was slowly but
surely overpowering him. Finally, he lost all idea of


A ROYAL PRISONER
201
his surroundings and sank back on his bed uncon-
scious.
Had the day come?
A pale light touched with yellow and silver rays,
crept softly through the half-opened door and reached
the face of a sleeping man; causing him to stir and
to open his eyes, blinking and yawning. It was Juve.
The first thing his gaze lighted upon was a round
moon in a blue sky sown with stars. The detective
who had gone to sleep in a dungeon, smiled instinc-
tively at the heavens and the fresh, pure air which
filled the room. By degrees his mind went back to
the events of the past night, the heavy sleep that had
come over him, and he wondered how much time had
elapsed since he had lost consciousness. He had,
besides, the impression that beneath his ample and
warm bed clothes he was quite naked. His move-
ments, too, seemed constricted as though he were
lying in a narrow frame bed placed on the ground.
But where was he?
Thanks to the moonlight, he could perceive that he
was in a room on the ground floor. Outside, shapes
flitted by, and these Juve soon found to be bats hurry-
ing to their nearby lairs. An owl hooted in the dis-
tance. The detective determined to make an effort to


202 A ROYAL PRISONER
get up. To his surprise he met with no resistance and
easily climbed out of the sort of box in which he had
been lying.
As his eyes became accustomed to the semi-obscur-
ity, he started upon seeing the bed he had been lying
in. It was a coffin.
Juve then shuddered at the thought of the horrible
death he might have undergone. He might have been
buried alive! But a further surprise was in store for
him. Not far away stood another coffin, and in this
second one lay a corpse.
The dead man was about fifty, strongly built and
robust. A small clot of blood had congealed on his
temple and this was enough to show Juve the cause of
his death.
He had been shot through the head with a revolver,
and his death had been instantaneous. The rigidity
of the body showed that the crime had been committed
some time before. And then he made a still further
discovery. By the side of the coffin lay a pile of
clothes, and to Juve's amazement he recognized them
as being his own!
"Well," he exclaimed, "there can be no harm in
putting them on, since they are mine. A further
search disclosed, tucked away in a corner of the coffin,
his pocketbook. Not only that, but some generous


A ROYAL PRISONER
203
person had stuffed it literally full of bank notes, and
in a small pocket he also found a first-class ticket
from Glotzbourg to the frontier.
"What on earth does all this mean?" he exclaimed.
A search of his erstwhile bed now brought to light
a sheet torn from a railway time-table, upon which a
certain train was underscored in red ink. From an-
other corner of the coffin he brought out a false beard
and a pair of yellow spectacles! In a twinkling Juve
dressed himself and crossing to the door, pushed it
open and looked out.
"The deuce!" he cried, "that's a funereal out-
look!"
Before him stretched away on all sides . . . tomb-
stones! tombstones big and little—some with crosses,
others with crowns and flowers.
Juve was in a cemetery, and the strange room in
which he found himself was the mortuary chapel.
Nothing disturbed the impressive silence of this vast
resting place. In the distance a clock struck five, and
far off Juve perceived the silhouette of the Glotz-
bourg Cathedral.
The detective pulled himself together and began
to piece out by his well-known habit of induction some
solution to this incomprehensible mystery.
"To begin with," he exclaimed, "my being still alive


204
K ROYAL PRISONER
is evidently due to the will of my adversaries. It is
possible that the police of Hesse-Weimar may have
discovered their mistake, and taken this method of
setting me at liberty. Or, it has been given out that
I am dead, and they intend to bury this poor fellow
in my place. . . .
"No, that's stupid. I was forgetting it is Fan-
tomas who is supposed to be caught, then are they
going to give out that Fantomas is dead? . . . That
seems out of the question. . . . Besides this man didn't
die a natural death, he was killed! I can't make head
or tail of it."
Juve paced up and down, rejecting one hypothesis
after another. Finally, with a shrug of his shoulders,
he cried:
"Bah! I shall know all in good time. Let's get
to the most pressing problem. I have been given
money, a ticket with the time of departure marked on
the time-table, that is as much as to say:
"'My dear Sir, you are to go to the Station and
take the 1.22 train, first class, for the frontier, there
you will be left to your own devices . . . but be care-
ful to use the disguise given you."
"Well," continued Juve to himself, "I haven't the
least desire to thwart my mysterious friends, having
no wish to prolong my visit here."


A ROYAL PRISONER 205
Soon afterward Juve set out toward the town. As
he walked the dawn broke on the horizon.
For three hours the Berlin express had been speed-
ing across Hesse-Weimar on its way to Paris. Night
was beginning to fall and multi-colored signals showed
their points of light as the train sped past way sta-
tions.
Juve, plunged in his thoughts, paid no attention to
what was passing without. He had picked up a copy
of the Hesse-Weimar Gazette before leaving, and in
it had read the following:
"The desperate bandit, Fantomas, arrested two days
ago in the Royal Palace while in the act of stealing
the diamond, has committed suicide by shooting him-
self through the head with a small revolver he had
hidden in his clothes. His body is now lying in the
mortuary chapel of the cemetery awaiting the inevi-
table autopsy."
This information but confirmed Juve in the hy-
pothesis he had formed. But there still remained a
point to be cleared up. Undoubtedly the public were
being duped . . . but who was duping them, and why?
If Juve was thought to be Fantomas, they wouldn't
have let him escape and put a dead man in his place.
On the other hand, if they knew that Juve was not


206
A ROYAL PRISONER
Fantomas, why the devil had this suicide story been
invented?
A new idea suddenly flashed through Juve's mind.
"Suppose that not only the people of Hesse-Weimar
but also the Government have been fooled!"
A glimpse caught of Prince Gudulfin descending
from the private car at the Hesse-Weimar station, was
sufficient to start this train of thought. By associa-
tion of ideas the sight of the Prince brought to Juve's
mind the figure of the Grand Duchess Alexandra, who
was no other than Lady Beltham. And Lady Bel-
tham suggested Fantomas, whom Juve was inclined
to credit not only with his arrest but also with his
liberation.
When the train pulled into the Frontier Station
Juve, still wearing his false beard and whiskers,
jumped down and hurried to the ticket office to buy
his transportation to Paris. As he was returning, he
happened to glance at the private car attached to the
train at Glotzbourg, when, in spite of his self-control,
he could not repress a cry of triumph.
One of the window curtains was suddenly raised
and then immediately lowered again, but Juve had
time to recognize a face. It was that of the Grand
Duchess Alexandra . . . otherwise Lady Beltham
The train whistled.


2o8 A ROYAL PRISONER
brought here by Lady Beltham herself while Juve was
away getting his ticket. What did this mysterious ad-
dress portend?
If Lady Beltham believed she was communicating
with Fantomas, she certainly would have no need to
write to him; she would know well enough where to
find him.
Furthermore, why didn't she simply walk through
the several intervening cars and talk to him? What
could be the motive powerful enough to prevent the
mistress rejoining.her lover? Upon second thoughts
Juve doubted the hypothesis that Lady Beltham had
intended to instigate the releascof Fantomas. Might
she not have become weary of the yoke which joined
her to this monster and be really repentant of her
crimes? It would not be the first time she had tasted
remorse—and, instead of saving Fantomas, was aware
that Juve had been set at liberty.
"Yes," echoed Juve, "this second hypothesis is evi-
dently the right one and Lady Beltham has ranged
herself upon the side of law."
The detective, with a defiant glance at the deepen-
ing evening shadows, proclaimed grandiloquently:
"So be it, Lady Beltham. it shall not be said that a
gallant man repays you with ingratitude, and if you
care to have it so we will say in unison:


A ROYAL PRISONER
209
"Between us three, Fantomas!"
The train thundered through the night. It was
only at seven in the morning that the suburbs of
Paris showed through an uncertain fog.
Saint Denis, the fortifications, and then the train
slowed up and stopped under the great glass dome of
the Gare du Nord. Juve, waking with a start, hastily
sprang out and made his way to the private car in the
hope of seeing Lady Beltham. But the Lady had
already disappeared. . . . Juve caught up with her
just in time to see her enter an automobile which in-
stantly got under way. He managed to catch the
number of the car, but could not find a taxi rapid
enough to make the attempt of overtaking her.
"Oh, well," he exclaimed, "I know how to find her."
A sudden thought struck him:
"The delay accorded me by M. Annion expires to-
day, and the arrest of the false Frederick-Christian is
about due. I don't suppose Fandor has taken any
steps, but I'd better find out what is happening."
Juve consulted his watch:
"Half-past seven, I can call on the Minister of the
Interior."
He sprang into a taxi and cried:
"Number eleven, Rue des Saussaies!"


CHAPTER XXIII
OFFICIAL OPINIONS
"TT JELL, M. Vicart?"
\ "Well, M. Annion, that's all."
"That's all!" replied M. Annion. "That's
nothing! We've been talking for a quarter of an hour
without getting anywhere or reaching any conclusion."
"But, M. Annion. . . ."
"No, I say. ... It is I who have been giving you
all the information and that, you know, is rather sur-
prising. . . . You are the acting head of the Secret
Service and you should have known all this. It's not
my place to tell you what's going on at the Royal
Palace."
"M. Annion, nothing at all has happened."
This reply threw M. Annion into a sudden fit of
anger.
"Is that so? Nothing has happened, hasn't it? And
you don't realize the gravity of the case! Really, Vi-
cart, it's discouraging! Can't you understand that we
must absolutely come to some decision? The ministry
is under the constant threat of interpellations and that
state of affairs cannot continue."
210


A ROYAL PRISONER
211
"Oh, I don't say the situation isn't serious, I only
say nothing new has turned up."
"That's just what I'm complaining about—your ab-
solute lack of comprehension. To begin with, a week
has gone by ... a whole week since Juve left, and
not a word from Glotzbourg. ... In fact, Juve is a
day late already. . . . Does that convey nothing to
you? ... To me it means that Juve has found noth-
ing there."
"I don't quite understand," ventured the bewildered
Vicart.
M. Annion took pity on his subordinate.
"Before Juve left he had proved to me that the King
was the real King; isn't that so?"
"Yes."
"But that doesn't alter the fact that the King is a
murderer. . . . Juve suspected some court intrigue,
that's why he left for Glotzbourg. Now what is our
situation? We have a King who has committed mur-
der, and we don't arrest him. But that is the least of
my worries. What about public opinion on the one
hand and the extraordinary audacity of this monarch
on the other?"
"Public opinion?"
"Yes! why the deuce don't you read the papers?
Learn what is going on! Take the opposition press—


212
A ROYAL PRISONER
they're always hinting at the weakness of the govern-
ment in not arresting criminals on account of diplo-
matic complications. While I've seen to it that no
more manifestations take place outside the Royal Pal-
ace, that the public for the time being is muzzled, still
it is only waiting a chance to break out again. And
now here is Frederick-Christian writing to the Min-
ister of Foreign Affairs saying he wishes to meet the
President of the Republic . . . while he is here incog-
nito. Still, by the terms of the protocol, he owes a
visit to the Elysee—he's right about that."
"Well, what then?"
"Why, it complicates things very awkwardly. How
can the President receive, especially incognito, a King
who is thought to be an assassin . . . you don't know
what might be made of it . . . . This extraordinary
Frederick-Christian takes advantage of his impunity.
He's had lots of time since the death of Susy to slip
quietly back to his own country. . . . That would
have let us out ... instead of which he comes out in
the limelight . . . gets himself talked about ... a
nice time to choose, I must say!"
M. Annion was interrupted by the entrance of a clerk
who handed him a visiting card.
"Who is it now? . . . Ah . . . show them in."
He then turned to M. Vicart:


214 A ROYAL PRISONER
"No! no! I was received by the King, but
by a King who wasn't the real one, but an impos-
tor!"
"Good God!" cried M. Annion.
Here was this impostor affair cropping up again.
The girl must be crazy.
"But it's unbelievable! Come, Mademoiselle, weigh
well the gravity of your words—you can scarcely be
making this up as a joke, I hope. You can furnish
absolute proof of what you say? Why do you think
the King is not the King?"
Marie Pascal had recovered her self-control, and
She gave M. Annion a detailed account of the audience
she had obtained with Frederick-Christian. She hid
nothing, neither his former warmth of feeling nor his
recent coldness. She explained that his face no longer
looked the same, nor had his voice the same sound,
that he had attempted to hide behind the screen and
finally that she was quite sure the man she saw was
not the King.
"What did you do, Mademoiselle?"
This time M. Giraud spoke up:
"Mlle. Marie was wrong in what she did, but under
the stress of emotion she raised the whole hotel and
made such a row that M. Louis advised her to come
and see me."


A ROYAL PRISONER 215
"Very good, and then?"
"Why, M. Annion, I hurried to the Royal Palace
and made an investigation, where I confirmed what
Mademoiselle had told me. I then decided I had better
lay the matter before you."
M. Annion sat deep in thought for a few moments.
Then he burst out:
"Hang it! Your accusation of imposture is absurd,
Mademoiselle, utterly impossible!" Then, turning to
M. Vicart, he added:
"Haven't we the formal declaration, irrefutable, of
that Secret Service man . . . Glaschk . . ."
"Wulfenmimenglaschk."
"That's it! . . . Have you seen him, M. Giraud?"
"I have, but I couldn't get anything out of him; he
was three-quarters drunk, and furious with his Majesty
who had just struck him."
M. Annion stared in amazement.
"But Frederick-Christian was his friend—his inti-
mate friend . . . they were pals . . . and you say he
struck him?"
Crossing quickly to the telephone, he called up:
"Hello! Are inspectors 42, 59 and 63 there? What?
Then send them up."
"You did well to come to me, M. Giraud; we must
clear up this business at any cost. . . . I've just sent


216 A ROYAL PRISONER
for the three inspectors whom I detailed this morning
to watch his Majesty Frederick-Christian. . . ."
Then glancing at Marie Pascal:
"You'll hear what they have to say, Mademoiselle."
A few minutes later the three men entered the office.
"Well, what is new? You've been shadowing him?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Anything to report?"
"Nothing much, Monsieur, only in regard to the
conduct of the King. It seems that since this morning
he has quite changed. Frederick-Christian, instead of
keeping himself shut up as of late, now sees his friends
again and has resumed his haughty manner and his
fault-finding with the servants."
"What friends has he seen?"
"A young attache of the Embassy arrived imme-
diately after luncheon, and the director of his bank."
"And these men found nothing unusual?"
"No, chief, nothing at all."
M. Annion turned to Marie Pascal.
"You see, Mademoiselle, that is conclusive, isn't it?
What probably happened was that the King had a fit
of nerves, due to the death of his mistress, and then
his return to his normal life misled you. . . ."
Marie Pascal interrupted:
"No, Monsieur, no! Your inspectors are wrong 1


A ROYAL PRISONER
I who love him cannot be deceived! It is no longer
Frederick-Christian II who is at the Royal Palace, it
is an impostor! Besides, even if I could have been
mistaken, he had no reason for not recognizing me, of
not seeming to understand what I was saying."
The second inspector spoke up:
"Chief, I have something which will convince Made-
moiselle that she is mistaken. I was able to get hold
of one of his Majesty's collars which he had just worn.
Its size is distinctly characteristic, being 18 inches.
Now it would be very easy to verify the fact that the
real King wears this size and also whether it fits the
supposed impostor. In any case, Monsieur, from in-
quiries made among the hotel servants I find there can
be no doubt that Frederick-Christian is actually stay-
ing there, and that his intimate friends have been re-
ceived and have recognized him."
M. Annion did not answer.
"This Marie Pascal is crazy," he thought, "or else
she is up to some game which I don't understand . . .
the King is the King all right, but, hang it all, that
doesn't alter the fact that he is an assassin."


A ROYAL PRISONER 219
.
M. Annion took the Rue des Saussaies at 7.30 and
having reached home, dined quickly while he read the
evening paper. The news was startling.
An article reserved in tone, but giving sufficient de-
tails, announced the arrest of Fantomas, the myste-
rious criminal of the Palace Royal of Glotzbourg,
while attempting to steal the diamond which consti-
tuted the private fortune of Prince Frederick-Chris-
tian II.
"Good God!" cried M. Annion, "Fantomas arrested,
the diamond stolen, and Juve doesn't return or send
any word!"
The director of the Secret Service felt himself en-
tangled in a network of intrigues which seemed im-
possible to unravel. He seemed to be surrounded by
an impenetrable mystery.
Fantomas! And now the name of Fantomas was
associated with the scandal brought about by Fred-
erick-Christian!
M. Annion slept badly, haunted by a nightmare in
which he was constantly pursuing an extraordinary
Fantomas, whom he would seize and bind and who
would then suddenly vanish into thin air. At eight
o'clock in the morning he appeared at his office. There
a surprise awaited him. Upon his desk lay a telegram.
Rapidly tearing it open, he glanced at the text.


220 A ROYAL PRISONER
"Ah! . . . Good God! Can it be true! Fantomas
dead! Fantomas dead in prison! I must be dream-
ing!"
While he was rereading the astonishing news, the
door of his office opened and Juve walked in.
"Juve!"
"Myself, Chief."
"Well!"
"Well," replied Juve, calmly, "I've had a pretty good
trip."
Brandishing the telegram, M. Annion cried:
"Fantomas is dead!"
"Yes . . . Fantomas is dead."
"What have you found out?"
"Oh, a thing or two . . . rather interesting."
"And the diamond?"
"Stolen, Chief, disappeared."
"Stolen by Fantomas?"
"Yes, by Fantomas."
"It was you who arrested him?"
"Hum!—-yes and no. ... I was the cause of his ar-
rest."
"And the murder of Susy d'Orsel?"
"It was committed by Fantomas."
"You are sure of that?"
"Certain, Chief."


222 A ROYAL PRISONER
Juve heard these words with growing uneasiness.
The King was Fandor. How had Fandor managed
the affair?
M. Annion continued:
"And what do you think happened yesterday after-
noon? I received a visit from a little idiot called
Marie Pascal, who still insisted on the imposture.
She asserted that the King was no longer the
same."
Juve felt his head swimming.
Marie Pascal had paid one visit to Fandor, and now
declared he was no longer the same! So Fandor
was not at the Royal Palace. Who had taken his
place?
The real King?
Was Fandor himself a victim?
"By the way," pursued M. Annion, oblivious of
Juve's trouble, "you didn't happen to learn any details
concerning the King's toilette at Glotzbourg?"
"No, why?"
"Oh, nothing of importance. I should like to have
known whether it was a fact that Frederick-Christian
wore an 18-inch collar. It would merely have been an-
other proof."
The words literally stupefied the detective. If the
man at the Royal Palace wore 18-inch collars, he was


CHAPTER XXV
"i WANT TO LIVEl"
DURING two days which passed like two cen-
turies, Fandor had been held prisoner in his
dungeon where death awaited him.
"I am condemned to death," he exclaimed, "very
good, then I will wait for death."
But Fandor was of those who do not give up until
the struggle is over. Besides, he had his faithful re-
volver. He could end his life at any moment and
shorten the torture. He had found sufficient ham to
last for two meals, and when that had been eaten and
the last drop of water drunk he began to suffer the
tortures of hunger and thirst. And now, like a caged
beast, he paced up and down his prison. His mind
went back to stories he had read, stories of entombed
miners, of explorers hemmed in by ice, of hunters
caught in traps, but in all these cases deliverance in
one form or another had come at last—the adventures
ended happily.
"I want to live," he cried aloud, "I want to live!"
Suddenly a great calm descended upon him. His
coolness and clear judgment returned.
224


226
A ROYAL PRISONER
head, and the air became more difficult to breathe;
suddenly, he had the sensation of being enveloped in
an extraordinary blue flame, and then a loud report
deafened him.
Fandor's prison, saturated with gas, had suddenly
blown up!
The ground gave way beneath him: he was lying
in the ruins.
Destiny had made a plaything of his efforts.


CHAPTER XXVI
THE ACCUSING WAISTCOAT
"A S a matter of fact, Monsieur Juve, did not the
celebrated Vidocq before he was a detective
begin life as a murderer?"
Wulf, book in hand and comfortably installed in a
large armchair, addressed the question to Juve, who
answered in brief monosyllables, without turning his
head:
"That's true, Monsieur Wulf."
"And don't you think that every detective at one
time or another has a tendency toward crime, either
as a thief or as an assassin?"
"That I cannot say."
What a day Juve had passed! Events had suc-
ceeded each other with such startling rapidity that the
detective, in spite of his robust physique, began at
length to feel the strain. As a matter of fact he had
really had no rest since his tragic awakening in the
mortuary chapel at Glotzbourg. He had passed the
following night in the train without closing an eye.
Upon his arrival he had been busy without interrup-
227


228 A ROYAL PRISONER
tion until he found himself, at ten o'clock at night, in
his little apartment in the Rue Bonaparte with the
grotesque Wulf as companion. While the latter was
tranquilly reading the adventures of Vidocq, Juve was
absorbed in a strange task which occupied his entire
attention.
He was minutely examining a queer-looking gar-
ment, a waistcoat of very unusual cut . He turned to
Wulf:
"Monsieur Wulf, you recognize this garment, don't
you? There is no doubt that it came from Jacob and
Company, the Glotzbourg tailors?"
Wulf nodded.
"No doubt whatever. I've had too much experience
in such matters to be mistaken. . . . Besides, the ini-
tials J. G. are on the buttons."
"Yes, yes—Jacob of Glotzbourg."
Juve now examined the lining with a magnifying
glass, muttering the while:
"Ah, just as I expected!"
The pocket of the waistcoat had been distended by
some large object which had been forcibly introduced
into it. The detective quickly took some modeling clay
and made it into certain dimensions carefully meas-
ured, then with a stick he marked the surface of the
ball into facets, referring now and again to a book


230 A ROYAL PRISONER
have sent me some word. He must know how anxious
I would be about him."
From Fandor's house Juve had gone direct to Susy
d'Orsel's apartment. It was a theory of his that a
good detective could never visit too often the scene
of a crime. Mechanically he went through the various
rooms until he reached the kitchen.
"I have a feeling that something happened here,"
he muttered, "but what?"
A close examination of the floor showed distinct
traces of feet in some fine coal dust. These traces
proved to be those of a woman's shoes, small, elegant
and well made. They could not possibly belong to
Mother Citron nor to Susy d'Orsel, who, he recalled,
had worn satin mules on the night of the murder. The
person who immediately presented herself to Juve's
mind was Marie Pascal.
"The deuce!" he cried, "this becomes complicated.
This coal dust and these imprints were not here a few
days ago, therefore some one has been here since and
has evidently been at pains to lay a false trail!"
With the intention of examining the servants' stair-
case again, he let himself out with a pass-key and be-
gan the descent. But so absorbed was he in his
thoughts that unconsciously he went down one flight
too many and found himself in the cellar of the build-


A ROYAL PRISONER
ing. Juve, following his custom of never neglecting
to search even the most unsuspicious places, lit his
electric light and examined the room he had entered.
On either side of the cellar were ranged a number
of doors, all securely padlocked. These were evidently
the private cellars of the tenants. As he threw his
light on the floor, he could not repress a movement of
surprise. Dropping on all fours, he began a close
examination of the ground.
"Now I begin to see daylight. For some time I
have had the conviction that Frederick-Christian, upon
leaving Fandor made his escape by the servants' stair-
case, and thus left the house. But I could not under-
stand why he had not returned to his hotel. My con-
clusion was wrong. Frederick-Christian, like myself,
came down a flight too many and found himself, as
I have, in this cellar. Evidently a scoundrel was wait-
ing for him here. The trampled ground, the shreds of
silk torn from a high hat, all indicate clearly the strug-
gle which took place. But the King, being drunk,
was easily overpowered and bound. That is the reason
he did not reach his hotel."
One difficulty still troubled the detective. It had been
shown that on the night of December 31st, the third
person, otherwise the King, whom Fandor declared
to be in the apartment, had been unable to escape by


232 A ROYAL PRISONER
the back stairs, since the door was locked and bolted.
Then it came into Juve's mind that the maid Justine
in giving testimony had become embarrassed and finally
had admitted that the key having been lost, she had
neglected to lock the door. This cleared up the du-
bious point and established in Juve's mind the com-
plete explanation of what happened.
Fantomas, after killing Susy d'Orsel, had lurked on
the stairs until the King left the apartment. Then,
locking the door, he had hurried after his victim and
caught him at the moment he reached the cellar.
The detective's next move was to break into the
apartment of the Marquis de Serac. By the aid of a
ladder which he found in a corner, he climbed up and
broke a windowpane and thus made his entrance. At
first nothing in the apartment seemed worthy of sus-
picion. The rooms were elegant but commonplace.
The bureaus and wardrobes were locked, and gave out
a hollow sound when rapped upon. As he did not
have his burglar's equipment with him, Juve decided
to come back later and investigate. He was on the
point of leaving when his foot caught in a garment,
which he found to be a waistcoat. He gave vent to
an exclamation of surprise as he picked it up and
folding it into a bundle hid it under his overcoat. The
Marquis de Serac had been under his suspicion for


A ROYAL PRISONER 235
was thus that Fandor was enabled to escape for an
hour, during which time the substitution had been ef-
fected. Wulf explained how he had found the King
near the fountains in the Place de la Concorde, and
Juve realized that in some way or other the King and
the fountains were mysteriously connected.
In his turn, Wulf plied Juve with questions as to
what he had done during his stay at Glotzbourg.
What sort of welcome had he received from M.
Heberlauf?
How had the arrest of Fantomas been effected?
How had the monster died?
The detective, naturally, had no intention of en-
lightening Wulf as to the truth.
He therefore answered in monosyllables, annoyed
by the turn the conversation had taken. In fact, as
the questions became more pressing, it flashed through
Juve's mind that the stupid officer was actually begin-
ning to suspect him of being Fantomas. As the taxi
neared its destination Juve suddenly put his head out
of the window and cried with an oath to the chauffeur:
"Follow that automobile which is just starting and
don't lose sight of it!"
Wulf turned inquiringly:
"It's the Marquis de Serac."
"Well, what of it?"


A ROYAL PRISONER 237
Juve took out his revolver, and then an exclamation
of surprise escaped his lips. Fifty yards away, a
figure appeared, vague and dressed in white.
"What the devil does that mean? I've been fol-
lowing the Marquis de Se>ac, of that I'm sure, and
now I find this other one." Then turning to Wulf,
he gripped him by the arm. "You see that individual,
well, he is the Primitive Man Ouaouaoua."
Taking the utmost precaution, Juve and Wulf fol-
lowed the enigmatic Ouaouaoua for over an hour.
The singular meeting had given the detective food
for thought. This man had figured prominently at
the ceremony of the Singing Fountains; again, he had
been foremost in the demonstration of the mob against
the King outside the Royal Palace. It was now that a
suspicion came to Juve's mind, that this venerable
beard and white woollen robe concealed the person of
the Marquis de Serac.
"Whatever happens," he muttered, "I must get to
the bottom of this. While it would be quite easy to
bring him down with a shot from my revolver, yet,
once dead, I could get no information from him."
They arrived at the corner of the Boulevard Male-
sherbes and the Avenue de Villiers, and Juve's excite-
ment grew, for he knew that not far away was the


A ROYAL PRISONER 239
"Have you just seen a queerly dressed man?" he
asked one of the porters.
"He has just bought his ticket, Monsieur."
Juve flung down a coin, seized two coupons and
without waiting for the change hurried onto the plat-
form. The first morning train was waiting, due to
start in five minutes. A quick search through the
carriages disclosed the object of Juve's search. He
was standing in the first carriage by the door of the
driver's compartment. While Juve eyed him eagerly,
the Primitive Man in turn was watching the detec-
tive.
The conductors and employes were standing gossip-
ing by the ticket office, and the station was almost de-
serted at this early morning hour.
Juve remained on the platform with Wulf. As a
preliminary to making his arrest, he took out his re-
volver, and held it in the palm of his hand. Suddenly
he gave a yell and sprang forward. Ouaouaoua, tak-
ing advantage of the engine driver's absence, had
entered his compartment and pulled the levers.
In a moment the train was under way. As Juve
made a jump on board, Wulf tried to restrain him,
and in the scuffle knocked the revolver out of the
detective's hand. To the consternation of the train's
crew left behind in the station, the train was now


A ROYAL PRISONER
241
windows and throwing the passengers pell-mell upon
each other.
Then . . . silence. . . .
The red lights of torches gradually lighted up the
tunnel in which the tragic accident, still unaccounted
for, had occurred. Juve, unconscious for ten minutes,
came to his senses and realized with a sense of relief
that he was unhurt, and that the men directing the
rescue were the Paris firemen. Many persons had
been wounded, but by an apparent miracle not one had
been killed.
The Primitive Man had disappeared.
Juve, in quest of clues which might lead to the dis-
covery of the explosion, climbed upon the train to where
an immense hole in the roof of the tube had showered
down bits of asphalt and broken earth. He noticed
quickly that communication had been opened with the
Place de la Concorde. By dint of hoisting and
scrambling he succeeded at length in gaining the sur-
face of the ground.
Vague groanings came from the mass of stones
piled not far away. As he approached these noises,
they became more distinct. Finally, he discovered the
body of a man wedged between two large blocks and
covered with a piece of gas-pipe.


CHAPTER XXVIII
INNOCENT OR GUILTY?
JUVE and Doctor Gast were talking in low tones
in the dining-room adjoining the bedroom.
Their patient, Fandor, had just wakened and
had cried out:
"I'm dying of hunger!"
It was about nine o'clock in the morning. After
rescuing his friend Fandor from his perilous situation,
he had taken the unfortunate journalist to his own
home in Rue Richer and called in a physician of the
quarter, Doctor Gast. An examination of the patient
showed that he had received no serious injury, merely
some abrasions and one or two burns.
As Juve and the Doctor answered his call for food,
Fandor sat up and without surprise or question re-
peated his cry:
"I'm dying of hunger. Hurry up and give me
something to eat."
The Doctor took his pulse, then suggested:
"Something light won't hurt him, say, a slice of
ham."
A formidable oath was the reply:
"No, thanks! . . . anything you like, but not ham."
343


A ROYAL PRISONER
"All right ... a chicken wing instead."
This seemed to satisfy Fandor, who added:
"While I'm awful hungry, don't forget that I'm
just as thirsty!"
"Well, Doctor?"
"Well, Monsieurj I find everything going welL
Our patient has had a good meal and is now sleeping
peacefully. By to-morrow, M. Fandor will be all
right again. It was, however, about time he got food,
for in my judgment he pretty nearly died of hunger."
"That's what I can't understand."
"When you went back just now to the scene of
the accident, didn't you learn any of the details?"
Juve answered evasively:
"Nothing to speak of, Doctor, merely that the
wounds of the passengers are not serious. As to the
cause of the explosion, I have a notion that it may
have been due to an escape of gas. I noticed a strong
odor of it about . Probably a spark set it off."
The doctor now took his leave, and no sooner was
he well out of the door when a joyful whistle came
from the sick man's room. Juve could not restrain
an exclamation of surprise as he looked into the
bedroom. Fandor was already partly dressed and
in the act of lacing up his boots.
"You are crazy to get up in your condition!"


246 A ROYAL PRISONER
I
They were about to put this project into execution
when a loud knocking at the door startled them.
Fandor sprang forward, but the detective quickly
thrust him into the bedroom, and opened the door him-
self.
"You here, Wulf!"
"As you see."
The absurd officer marched into the apartment with
an air of great satisfaction.
"Well, Monsieur Juve, and what do you think of
my detective instinct?"
"I don't understand."
"Ah, you thought you'd got rid of me at the
Sud-Nord Station, didn't you, but I fooled you. I
arrived at the scene of the explosion at the precise
moment you were giving an address to the chauffeur
and carrying away a body."
"A body ... in pretty good health!"
"Furthermore, I came across some one you were
looking for, I think."
"Fantomas?"
"No, not Fantomas, but the Primitive Man, gen-
erally called Ouaouaoua."
"And you let him go?"
"Oh, I let him go all right, but not before he gave
me his address."


A ROYAL PRISONER 247
Juve smiled grimly.
"A nice mess you've made of it!"
Wulf continued with an air of great importance:
"I can tell you something else, the King returns to
Glotzbourg to-night, but before he goes we shall have
the guilty person arrested."
A slight noise made Wulf turn his head and then
give a loud cry.
Fandor had entered the room.
"Good God! Who is that? . . . the King? . . .
No, it's not the King . . . help! help!"
Wulf cast frightened glances to right and left and
then made a dive for the door, slamming it behind
him as he rushed out:
"I knew he was a fool," exclaimed Juve, "but I
didn't know he was crazy besides. And to think he
had Fantomas in his hands and let him go!"
The two men now reverted to their interrupted
project and decided to pay their respective visits to
Marie Pascal and Lady Beltham.
"Mam'zelle Marie! Mam'zelle Marie! Come in
and rest a bit!"
The pretty lace-maker was passing the office of the
concierge, the so-called Mother Citron. The young
girl accepted the invitation and sat down, heaving a


A ROYAL PRISONER
253
Fandor had an inspiration.
"Maybe she has received letters which will tell usl
Have you the key of her room?"
"Yes, I have the key; would you like to go up?"
"Of course!—I must make a search through her
belongings."
Jerome Fandor felt strangely agitated in entering
the simple room of the young lace-maker. It has been
frequently said that the souls of people can be divined
from the atmosphere of their homes, and if this is true,
the journalist was surely not mistaken when at the
Royal Palace he had experienced a rather warm feel-
ing for Marie Pascal.
The room showed no sign of precipitate abandon-
ment, nor any preparation for a long absence. Her
work-basket and cushions were all in place, and one
would have expected her return at any moment. But
alas! Fandor could harbor no illusion regarding her.
Her flight was evidently to escape a probable arrest by
Juve. A minute inspection of Marie's papers dis-
closed nothing of importance; but upon opening the
last drawer in her desk he found, hidden under en-
velopes and letter paper, a number of small objects.
"Ah! the devil!" he exclaimed.
The objects were jewels, brooches, rings, earrings


CHAPTER XXX
SHADOWED
AN unusual cold had continued for nearly a
week, and the ice fete organized by the skating
club upon the upper lake in the Bois de Bou-
logne had been announced for this particular day.
This fete had been already frequently postponed on
account of the weather. It had become a joke among
Parisians to receive an invitation for a date which was
invariably followed by a period of thaw, turning the
lake into ice water and mud.
And now the afternoon of this January day, which
began with the explosion in the Sud-Nord tunnel, had
been finally decided upon. The clear atmosphere and
severe cold promised no further disappointment. The
fete was to be given in aid of the poor of the town
and the admission fee was put at a high figure for
the purpose of drawing a fashionable crowd and keep-
ing out the mob. Vehicles of all kinds drew up and
were parked by the shore of the lake, giving the place
the appearance of a fashionable reception.
M. Fouquet-Legendre, President of the Committee,
stood chatting with the Marquis de Serac, and both
256


A ROYAL PRISONER 257
men cast frequent glances in the direction of the
town.
"You are sure he will come?" M. Fouquet-Legendre
inquired for the twentieth time.
"You may rely upon it, His Majesty himself prom-
ised to honor with his presence the reunion organized
by your Committee."
M. Fouquet-Legendre moved away to superintend
the preparation of a lunch table containing sandwiches,
cakes and champagne. The Marquis de Serac saun-
tered among the crowd, exchanging bows and hand-
shakes with his numerous friends.
To see this elegant old gentleman, jovial, smiling,
without an apparent trouble in the world, it would be
hard to imagine that he was the formidable and elusive
Fantomas.
The arrival of a superb limousine aroused the curi-
osity of the crowd. A distinguished-looking man,
wearing a striking cloak and a cap of astrakhan,
stepped out of it.
It was King Frederick-Christian II. The worthy
president immediately suggested a glass of champagne,
but the King made it quickly known that he had come
to skate, and desired to remain officially incognito.
Frederick-Christian had regained his popularity in
the eyes of the Parisians. The suspicion of murder-


CHAPTER XXXI
THE DEATH WATCH
IN her ears an incessant buzzing. On her throat
a weight which stifled her. In her mouth a gag
which obstructed her breathing and tore her lips.
Over her eyes a heavy bandage. Her arms were
bound at the wrists, her body was bruised by heavy
thongs, and her ankles bleeding from the pressure
of cords.
Marie Pascal was gradually regaining conscious-
ness. She tried to make a movement, but her body
could not respond; she wanted to cry out, but her
voice died away in her throat. At first she thought
it was all a nightmare, then memory returned and she
recalled every detail of her strange and sinister adven-
ture.
She saw herself starting with Mme. Ceiron to call
on Juve. The concierge had said:
"Don't worry, my dear, I know the way. Mon-
sieur Juve gave me his address."
At length, after a long walk, Mme. Ceiron made her
climb the stairs of a decent looking house. On the
264


268 A ROYAL PRISONER
"Now don't deny it! Look here, I'll tell you the
truth. I am not the King."
"You are not ..."
"No, but I haven't time to explain that now . . .
you must help me to capture this criminal . . . and I
give you my word you will not be involved yourself."
"But I am not the accomplice of Fantomas!"
"Then why did you steal those jewels? Why have
you the key of Susy d'Orsel's apartment in your
possession?"
Marie's face expressed such bewilderment as Fan-
dor asked the question that he could no longer doubt
her innocence.
"Then, for the love of heaven, tell me all you
know!"
Marie Pascal told a lengthy story. She recounted
in detail the role she had played in the tragic affair of
the Rue Monceau and ended by exclaiming:
"What you don't know is that Mme. Ceiron is in
reality Fantomas. Under this disguise he has tried
to assassinate me; he assured you that I had gone
to the country, so that rescue would have been impos-
sible."
"Ah, Fantomas!" cried Fandor at the end of the
recital, "your hour has come! In an hour at most
you will begin the expiation of your crimes!"


CHAPTER XXXII
THE ARREST OF FANTOMAS
"OOD evening, Monsieur Caldoni, so you are
\^ f starting soon?"
"Yes, Monsieur Vicart, it's customary
and also my duty, every time a sovereign, a crowned
head, takes the train . . ."
"You stick as close to him as possible until he has
reached the frontier. Well, I'm not sorry to see you
here," continued Vicart, "for now my job is over."
"And mine just beginning, worse luck."
"Oh! you have only a few hours of it; you travel
luxuriously in a special train ..."
"One gets tired of that pretty soon. Last week I
took the Dowager Queen of Italy to Menton; then
jumped to the Spanish frontier to pick up the King
of Spain; now it's the King of Hesse-Weimar—to-
morrow, who knows?"
The station was decorated gaily in honor of the
departing Frederick-Christian. In a private room, a
number of the guests, especially invited, were waiting
the arrival of the Sovereign.
While M. Vicart, in company with a special agent,
270


A ROYAL PRISONER 275
flood of words, explained to M. Annion that she had
no doubt in the matter.
"By a most infernal device, Monsieur, this criminal
escaped from his prison, and not content with that, he
killed an unfortunate servant, an old porter whom
our police discovered the following day in the mortu-
ary chapel of Glotzbourg."
Instinctly Juve was about to protest but M. Annion
held up a hand.
"Silence. You will explain at the trial." Then
turning to the Marquis de Serac, he handed the dia-
mond to him.
"We are very glad to be able to return this precious
jewel to his Majesty Frederick-Christian II, and I
place it in your hands, Marquis, in presence of Mon-
sieur Wulf and Monsieur Heberlauf."
A yell from Juve interrupted him:
"God Almighty! the Marquis de Serac is Fantomas!
. . . Fantomas, the assassin of Susy d'Orsel!"
M. Havard came forward:
"It's no use, Juve, keep quiet. We know all you
would say. But I may tell you that in every place
where Fantomas left his trace we have found un-
deniable evidences of your presence."
When M. Havard pronounced the name Fantomas,
a young girl sprang forward. It was Marie Pascal.


276 A ROYAL PRISONER
"Monsieur," she cried, "Fantomas is arrested!
Fantomas, the monster who nearly killed me two
hours ago!"
"Nearly killed you? Where?"
"In a house in the Rue Bonaparte."
"M. Juve's house," exclaimed the Marquis de Serac
with an ironical smile.
"And who rescued you?" asked M. Havard.
Marie Pascal turned to identify Fandor but the
journalist had disappeared.
Getting wind of what was afoot after reaching the
station, he had kept out of sight and listened to the
rumors of the crowd. It was with stupefaction that
he at length discovered that the authorities had actu-
ally decided that Juve and Fantomas were one and
the same person!
With his usual quick decision, he promptly made up
his mind that he would be more useful to his friend
if he remained free. He realized the probability of
his own arrest for counterfeiting the King.
M. Vicart offered humble apologies to the pseudo
Grand Duchess Alexandra, who accepted them with
a haughty inclination of the head, and hastened to
join the suite of the King.
The latter warmly thanked the Marquis de Serac