A Royal Prisoner

  CHAPTER VIII

  MARIE PASCAL

  Now that he had become a King and was obliged to receive unexpectedvisits in that capacity, Fandor had adopted the wise precaution ofmaking his visitors wait in the main Salon, while he retired to theadjoining study. From there, thanks to a large mirror, he could see themwithout being seen himself. Following this precaution he waited for theappearance of his visitor and scarcely had she set foot in the Salonwhen he experienced an agreeable surprise.

  "Ah, there's a pretty girl."

  He was right. She was charming, with her large clear blue eyes, her fairhair and slight figure.

  "By Jove," thought Fandor, "here's a way to fill up my hours ofsolitude. It oughtn't to be hard for one in my position to get up anintrigue, and provided the lady is not too shy I can begin one of thoseadventures one reads of in fairy stories."

  Covering his face still further with his scarf and putting on a pair ofblue spectacles he entered the Salon. The young girl betrayed a slightmovement of surprise upon seeing him. At his silent invitation she satdown on the edge of an armchair without daring to raise her eyes. Thenfollowed a long pause, until Fandor recollected that according toetiquette 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 seeyour Majesty ... to tell him how grateful I am for the laces he orderedfrom me ... that your Majesty ordered."

  Fandor began to be amused at the embarrassment of the young girl, so toset her at ease he remarked:

  "Mademoiselle, just talk to me as you would to anyone else, and as forthe laces, I shall be very glad to order others."

  A start of surprise from Marie Pascal gave Fandor the uneasy feelingthat 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 handin their pockets. As the interview continued the young girl regained herconfidence, and going close to Fandor, spoke in a tone of sincereanxiety:

  "Sire, it was not you ... oh, forgive me." And then in a lower tone: "Ihave denounced you, Sire."

  Then, dropping to her knees, Marie Pascal repeated all that hadhappened. Fandor now realized that the death of Susy d'Orsel had awitness 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 toMarie Pascal, "Now you must answer truthfully the question I am going toask you. Will you tell me why, after accusing me of this dreadful crime,you have suddenly changed your opinion and come to tell me how sorry youare and that you are now sure I am not guilty? You must have veryserious reasons for this change of front."

  "I have been convinced of your innocence," she replied, "by the mostabsolute proof." She then recounted to Fandor her discovery of thechemise belonging 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 uponthe ruffles on the sleeves. Attached to the right sleeve were someshreds of lace which seemed to have been torn from a larger piece. I ama lace maker and I recognized immediately that these pieces came from adress I had just delivered to Mlle. Susy d'Orsel a few hours before."

  Fandor, who was listening with the closest attention, now asked: "Whatdo you deduce from that, Mademoiselle?"

  "Sire, simply that the person who threw Susy d'Orsel out of the windowwas wearing that chemise."

  "And," continued the journalist, "as this belonged to the Marquis deSerac?"

  "But it is a woman's chemise."

  Fandor quickly realized the importance of this testimony. First, thatSusy d'Orsel had really been murdered and secondly that the KingFrederick-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 repliedenigmatically: "I am, of course, very much shocked at the tragic end ofthis poor girl. But what is the matter with you?"

  Marie Pascal was growing paler and paler and finally collapsed in hisarms. Gently he placed Marie Pascal on a sofa. For a few moments Fandorsat there holding her hands. Then she sat up quickly.

  "What are you doing?"

  Ready to continue what he considered an amusing adventure, he was aboutto take her in his arms murmuring, "I love you." But she rose quicklyand fled horror-stricken.

  "No, no, it's horrible." She sank down covering her face and cryinghysterically.

  Fandor rushed over just in time to hear her murmur, "Alas, and I loveyou."

  A variety of sentiments and impressions passed through the mind ofFandor. At first, delighted with the avowal he had heard, he took her,unresisting, in his arms. Then suddenly he became the victim of aviolent jealousy. For it was not to Fandor she had yielded but to theKing of Hesse-Weimar, Frederick-Christian. She looked so pretty with hertears and her love that the situation became intolerable to him.

  "Sire," whispered the gentle voice of Marie Pascal, "may I remind you ofa promise? Dare I ask for a souvenir?" She pointed to a photograph ofFrederick-Christian II.

  "All right, all right," growled Fandor, "take it."

  She then handed him a pen and asked him to write a dedication.

  "No, I'll be hanged if I do," cried Fandor. Then seeing that the younggirl was beginning to cry again, he added:

  "My dear Marie Pascal, I am very sorry but it is against the rule for meto write a single word on my portrait.... It is against theConstitution." The journalist searched through his pockets to findsomething he might give her as compensation, and then clasped her to hisheart as the only thing possible to do under the circumstances. At thismoment a servant entered and gravely announced:

  "Sire, Wulfenmimenglaschk is here." Had the sun or the moon or the Kinghimself been announced Fandor's amazement would not have been greater.Marie Pascal was about to slip away embarrassed, hardly capable ofleaving in so much happiness, when Fandor recalled her.

  "Mademoiselle!"

  "Sire!"

  "What you told me just now about the torn lace you had better repeat atpolice headquarters." Then in a lower tone he continued hisinstructions. When he had finished she nodded her head.

  Yes, she would go and find Juve, the detective Juve, as the King hadordered her, and she would tell him everything.

  The servant was waiting motionless for the King's answer.

  "Wulfenmimenglaschk," thought he, "that must be one of thoseextraordinary German-American cocktails which Frederick-Christian isaccustomed to order." He turned to the servant:

  "Pour it out." At the man's surprise Fandor realized that he had made amistake. At this moment a very fat man with scarlet face and pointedmoustache appeared in the doorway and gave the military salute,announcing in a voice of thunder:

  "Wulfenmimenglaschk!"

  "Good God," murmured the journalist, dropping into an armchair. "Thistime I'm dished. He's come from Hesse-Weimar."