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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.
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." But Juve's face was serious.
For the twenty-fifth time this strange individual repeated the phrase which apparently meant his name and added in French: "Head of the Secret Service of the Kingdom of Hesse-Weimar and Attaché of your Majesty." Fandor congratulated himself that the table separated them. He expected at any moment to be shown up as an impostor.
"Let's see," he exclaimed, "the Hesse-Weimar diamond is two-thirds of a hen's egg in size, and weighs 295 carats, that is to say, larger than the Koh-i-noor, the famous Indian diamond, one of the crown jewels of England." He now introduced his model into the pocket and found that it fitted the hole exactly. "There! What do you say to that!" he cried.
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 telegrams." 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!
But after taking a few steps, he hesitated. "Fandor, old chap," he soliloquized, "what's the use of showing yourself and taking the risk of being recognized as the erstwhile King of Hesse-Weimar?" For the individual who was in search of the Bureau of Public Works was no other than the journalist.
After having washed and shaved, he was about to go down to the lobby of the Hotel when a knock came at the door. "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?"
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. 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. "Good Lord!
"That is easily understood, and I hope you will pardon ... 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 ..."
"Why, they speak of nothing else in Hesse-Weimar." "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."
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