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The journalist searched through his pockets to find something 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 Fandor's amazement would not have been greater.
Yes, she would go and find Juve, the detective Juve, as the King had ordered 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 those extraordinary German-American cocktails which Frederick-Christian is accustomed to order." He turned to the servant: "Pour it out."
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 continued: "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 advice.
Juve now threw himself into an armchair and remained 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." Wulfenmimenglaschk!
At the man's surprise Fandor realized 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," murmured the journalist, dropping into an armchair. "This time I'm dished. He's come from Hesse-Weimar."
Consequently it will be scarcely possible to deceive him." "What is his name?" asked M. Annion. "It's rather complicated; he calls himself Wulfenmimenglaschk, 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."
"During his stay in Paris, Frederick-Christian has been especially appreciative of the respectful and devoted 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."
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?"
"Go, go," replied M. Annion; "perhaps you are right ... anyhow, don't forget to take letters of introduction with you." "Oh, don't worry about that. I can get all I want from my colleague." "Your colleague?" "Yes, from this excellent Wulf." "Come in and sit down, Monsieur Wulfenmimenglaschk." The Marquis de Sérac led the way into his study.
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