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Updated: June 2, 2025
These were evidently the private cellars of the tenants. As he threw his light on the floor, he could not repress a movement of surprise. Dropping on all fours, he began a close examination of the ground. "Now I begin to see daylight. For some time I have had the conviction that Frederick-Christian, upon leaving Fandor made his escape by the servants' staircase, and thus left the house.
"What's this all about?" exclaimed the King, "what influence have I been under during these last four days?" It was easy enough to recommend him to show no surprise, but it was also necessary to settle upon some definite attitude to take. And what about this "Wulf"? Frederick-Christian would have a look at this individual who claimed to be his friend and his next door neighbor.
Susy d'Orsel could hardly repress a smile. "Mind your own business. What time is it?" "A quarter to twelve, Madame." And as the girl started to leave the room she ventured: "I hope M. August won't forget me, to-morrow morning." "Why, you little idiot, his name isn't August, it's Frederick-Christian! You have about as much sense as an oyster!"
"Ah," laughed Wulf, "I hope we're included in that category, for you certainly have no better client than myself." "Excuse me," replied the barkeeper, smiling, "we have one, your boss, Monsieur Wulf, the King Frederick-Christian.... And while he doesn't always finish his drinks he always pays for them." "And that's the important thing," added M. Louis.
"Oh, Monsieur," replied Marie Pascal, for it was the young seamstress, "don't mention it ... and let me thank you for your recommendation to the King. I got two big orders from it." "Oh, I was very glad to be of service to you with Frederick-Christian.... I regret only one thing, Mademoiselle, and that is the unhappy events which have clouded His Majesty's visit to Paris."
Frederick-Christian now tried to collect his thoughts upon the situation and bring some sort of order to his mind. Susy d'Orsel was dead ... The King had felt no deep love for the girl. Still, he had been fond of her in a way and her sudden death affected him deeply. He himself was a prisoner. But a prisoner of whom? Evidently of those who had killed his mistress.
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!
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