"Wulf, Paris is the town of charming women. I am sure they will please you greatly. And as I have no need of your services to-morrow I will give you your liberty." The officer was about to break into thanks when the door opened and a servant announced: "Will your Majesty receive Monsieur Juve?" "Show him in." When the detective entered and heard Fandor addressed as His Majesty he opened his eyes and stood staring, while Fandor himself was obliged to stuff his handkerchief into his mouth to prevent himself from roaring with laughter. Juve began: "What does this mean?..." But Fandor quickly stepped forward. "Monsieur Juve, let me introduce you to Monsieur Wulf. Monsieur Wulf is the head of the Secret Service in my Kingdom of Hesse-Weimar." Then tapping Wulf familiarly on the shoulder he added: "He's one of the greatest detectives in the world. He was able to find the King of Hesse-Weimar right here in this apartment.... Though he had never seen me, he found me and recognized me!" The officer beamed with delight at the compliment. 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. "Now, without joking, tell me what you are doing here." When Fandor had finished his explanation Juve seized him by the hand. "Where is the King, Fandor?" "I have already told you. I haven't the least idea. And, furthermore, I don't care." "You are crazy to talk this way. What is happening is extremely serious." "Why?" "Simply because a charge of murder has been brought against Frederick-Christian." "Very few people know it," exclaimed the journalist. He stopped speaking suddenly. Outside the murmur of a crowd grew louder and louder as it approached. Juve and Fandor ran to the window just in time to receive a volley of stones which broke the glass in several places. The two men sprang back. "Put out the lights!" cried Juve. Below them the avenue was black with people. After a moment they could distinguish what they were shouting. "Murderer! Murderer! Down with the King!" "That surprises you, Fandor," exclaimed Juve, "but for the last forty-eight hours I have been watching this trouble grow, and I tell you it is going to end badly." At the head of the mob and more daring than the others appeared a strange individual. A long-bearded old man, dressed in white, was endeavoring to force his way into the hotel and a fight was taking place at the door. "I know him," muttered Juve, "I have seen him once or twice before trying to raise a row about this affair." "Why it's Ouaouaoua, the Primitive Man," cried Fandor.