Fandor replied in a non-committal tone. It would be wiser to avoid any compromising admission. A carriage!--what carriage, doubtless the Black Maria to take him to prison. And what did he mean by 'the discretion of his men?' "Well," thought Fandor, "he can count upon me. I shan't publish anything yet. And after all, it's going to be very hard for me to prove my innocence. Since I must rely on the King getting me out of this hole, it would be very foolish of me to give him away." "Besides," continued the officer, "I have had the concierge warned; she has received the most positive orders ... and no reporter will be allowed to get hold of ..." The officer became confused in his explanation. "The incidents of last night," added Fandor. A knock at the door and Sergeant Masson entered. "The coupe is ready." "Very well, Sergeant." Fandor rose and was about to put on his overcoat, but the man darted forward and helped him on with it. "Do you wish me to come with you, Monsieur, or would you prefer to return alone?" "Oh, alone, thanks, don't trouble yourself." The door was opened wide by the polite officer and Fandor passed through the main hall of the Station, where everyone rose and bowed. Getting into his carriage, he was disagreeably surprised to see an individual who appeared to be a plain clothes man sitting on the seat. In addition a police cyclist fell in behind the carriage as escort. "Where the devil are they going to take me?" he wondered. To his intense surprise, they stopped ten minutes later at the Royal Palace, the most luxurious hotel in Paris. With infinite deference he was then conducted to the elevator and taken to the first floor. "Well, this lets me out," thought Fandor. "Evidently the King has sent for me ... in a few minutes I shall be free ... what a piece of luck!" 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. Upon a table lay several illustrated papers and picking one up he seated himself comfortably in an armchair and began to read. Some minutes later a Major-domo entered the room with much ceremony and silently presented him with a card. This turned out to be a menu. "Well, they're not going to let me starve anyway," he thought, "and as long as the King has asked me to breakfast, I'll accept his invitation." Choosing several dishes at random, he returned the menu, and the man, bowing deeply, inquired: "Where shall we serve breakfast? In the boudoir?" "Yes, in the boudoir." The bow ended the interview and Fandor was once more left alone. But not for long. Close upon the heels of the first, a second man entered and handed the journalist a telegram and withdrew.