A Royal Prisoner

  CHAPTER XVII

  ON THE RIGHT TRAIL

  "The Bureau of Public Highways, if you please?"

  "What is it you wish to inquire about?"

  "I want some information as to the probable duration of certain repairworks."

  "Ah, then go to the fourth floor, number 54, door to the right at theend of the passage."

  "Thanks."

  With a slight nod, the visitor entered the huge building on theBoulevard Saint-Germain, which houses the offices of Public Works. Hewas a young man, dressed in a long black overcoat, a derby hat, which hewore well down over his eyes, and a wide bandage that covered one eyeand part of the cheek.

  After climbing the four flights indicated, he discovered that he hadevidently taken the wrong staircase. There was nothing to do then but togo back to the porter's lodge and get more explicit instructions. Butafter taking a few steps, he hesitated.

  "Fandor, old chap," he soliloquized, "what's the use of showingyourself and taking the risk of being recognized as the erstwhile Kingof Hesse-Weimar?"

  For the individual who was in search of the Bureau of Public Works wasno other than the journalist. An hour previously he had succeeded byclever strategy in getting rid of the excellent Wulf, who was at alltimes very loath to let the King out of his sight. Then, rushing to hisown apartment, he had changed his clothes and partly covered his facewith the bandage to conceal his features.

  After several futile attempts, aided by innumerable directions frompassing employes, he at length reached the office of which he was insearch. There he encountered a clerk who viewed him with a suspiciouseye.

  "What do you want, Monsieur?"

  "I want some information."

  "We don't give information here."

  "Really!... Why not?"

  "Are you a contractor?"

  "No."

  "You wish to lodge a complaint?"

  "No."

  "Then what is your business?"

  "Just to get some information as to the probable duration of certainworks."

  "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, thedoor opposite ... but there's nobody in now. However, you can wait."

  Fandor crossed and entered room 43, where, after a moment, he discoveredan occupant tucked away behind an enormous pile of books andmanuscripts. This clerk was absorbed in a yellow-covered novel andgreeted Fandor with evident ill-humor.

  "What d'you want?"

  "I would like to know, Monsieur, the probable duration of the repairwork 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 proposition to offer to thecity."

  "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, shuttingthe 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."

  "No, no, no such thing. In every quarter of Paris the police are obligedto notify me of any public works in operation, and an entry is made inmy register to that effect. Now, I have no record of the repairs youspeak of, consequently they don't exist."

  Fandor left the office, hailed a cab and ordered the driver to take himto 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 outwhat is going on there.... Ah! suppose this idiot Wulf was not deceived!Suppose he really heard the Singing Fountains the other evening givingthe last bars of the national hymn of Hesse-Weimar!"

  Arrived at the National Library, Fandor began a long and minute searchthrough volumes on architecture, on statuary and a multitude of guidebooks to Paris! He was so engrossed in his work that when four o'clockstruck he sprang up suddenly.

  "Good heavens! I've scarcely time to get back to my apartment, changeinto my kingly clothes and meet Wulf, to become once more His MajestyFrederick-Christian!"

  * * * * *

  In his apartment in his own house, the extraordinary Marquis de Serac,who was also the common Mme. Ceiron, was whispering to a person hiddenbehind the curtains.

  "You understand, don't move and listen with all your ears, and promiseme not to interfere until I give you permission!"

  "I promise. Monsieur le Marquis," replied the individual in a low tone.

  "All right, then I'll have her in."

  The Marquis crossed the room and opened a door.

  "Come in, Mademoiselle, and forgive me for keeping you waiting. I hadvisitors."

  "Oh, Monsieur," replied Marie Pascal, for it was the young seamstress,"don't mention it ... and let me thank you for your recommendation tothe King. I got two big orders from it."

  "Oh, I was very glad to be of service to you withFrederick-Christian.... I regret only one thing, Mademoiselle, and thatis 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."

  The young girl lifted her pure blue eyes in surprise.

  "The King spoke to me of you at great length," the Marquis added.

  A quick blush overspread her face.

  "Really.... The King spoke of me?"

  "His Majesty told me you were charming. He noticed you the very firsttime you went to see him."

  "At the Royal Palace?... But he only got a glimpse of me through theopen door."

  The Marquis smiled.

  "Oh, it doesn't take long for a King ... or a young man to sometimesdream of the impossible."

  "Impossible ... yes, you are right."

  Marie Pascal pronounced the last words in a serious voice. She wasmaking an evident effort to keep calm. The Marquis, on the other hand,seemed inclined to joke.

  "Impossible, why?... One never knows ... the will of the King knows noobstacle." Then brusquely turning, he asked:

  "You like the King, Mademoiselle?"

  "Why ... why ..."

  "Therefore, I'm wondering if the death of this unfortunate Susy is notreally a benefit."

  "Oh, Monsieur!"

  "Well, you know, Mademoiselle Marie, the happiness of one person ismade of the tears of another. You would have suffered. You would havebeen jealous."

  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. Besides, a liaison withher wasn't taken seriously by the King ... while with you it would havebeen quite different ... why, I believe you would have reached the pointof wishing her death."

  "No! no!" protested Marie feebly, "the King would have made hischoice ... frankly and loyally...."

  "And suppose he hadn't chosen? Suppose he had hesitated before thepossible scandal of a rupture? Don't you care enough for him to realizethat the very idea of sharing him with another would have beenintolerable?... What I am saying sounds brutal, I know, but I am frankwith you.... Believe me, you would have been driven to hate theunfortunate Susy."

  "To hate her? Yes, ... perhaps ... for I should have been jealous!"

  And then suddenly Marie realized what her words meant: that she hadbetrayed her cherished secret ... her love. In a moment she burst intosobs and collapsed on the sofa.

  The Marquis de Serac very gently tried to reassure her.

  "Don't cry, my poor child. After all, you are lamenting imaginarymisfortunes which I have so imprudently imagined.... They don't exist,and never could exist, for it is a fact that
Susy d'Orsel is no longer arival to be feared. Think rather of the future 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 existedbetween 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 confused I no longer know what I'm saying ... so please let mego."

  The Marquis, with exquisite politeness, opened the door for her.

  "Promise to come and see me again, Mademoiselle; before long I shallprobably have something further of interest to say to you."

  When the door had closed upon Marie Pascal, the Marquis drew aside theportieres.

  "Come out, my dear fellow.... We shall be alone now!"

  Wulf appeared. A Wulf literally armed to the teeth, and ready for anyemergency.

  "Put up your arsenal, we are in no danger," exclaimed the Marquis, "andtell me what you think of the visit."

  "I think there is not a moment to lose," replied Wulf, agitated. "Sheloves the King and she hated Susy d'Orsel, therefore she is theassassin. She is the cause of all the troubles that have fallen upon thehead of our beloved sovereign. Ah! I want to arrest her! Condemn her todeath! Come, Marquis, let us go to her room and seize her!"

  "Not yet a while, Wulf; sit down and talk it over. To begin with, we canarrest nobody without proof ... presumption is not sufficient."

  "I'll force her to confess!"

  "You wouldn't succeed, Wulf, and besides, you have no power to arresther yourself. That is work for the French authorities. Your duty issimply to go and warn Juve."

  "Right away! At once!"

  "Hold on ... remember, you are to do nothing without my permission. Now,I repeat, we have no proof yet to offer ... but listen carefully, for Ihave a plan ... this is it...."

  Two hours later, Wulf rejoined Fandor in a boulevard cafe. Theexcellent man had such an air of elation that the journalist wondered:

  "What fool thing is this idiot getting ready to do now!"