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Updated: June 2, 2025
During the course of the morning his hotel bill was brought to him, which amounted to four thousand 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.
"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 another proof." The words literally stupefied the detective.
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 surroundings.
Frederick-Christian II, since the death of his father three years previously, reigned over the destinies of the Kingdom of Hesse-Weimar. Young and thoroughly 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.
I'll probably get a good New Year's present in the morning." "Well, as it's very late for me, I'll go up to bed." "Go ahead, my dear, don't let me keep you." Marie Pascal had reached the stairs when she turned back. "Oh, Madame Ceiron, when can I thank the Marquis de Sérac for his kindness in introducing me to Frederick-Christian?"
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!"
The detective bit his lip and swore upon seeing a superb limousine in which he saw seated Frederick-Christian and the Marquis de Sérac. "Too late again!" he muttered. "I miss Lady Beltham at the America Hotel; I miss the King at the skating. At least, let me make sure that the so-called Grand Duchess is still here."
Still, by the terms of the protocol, he owes a visit to the Elysée 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.
Then he became 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.
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.
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