To call louder would have been dangerous, and besides, quick action was necessary. "Nothing venture, nothing gain," he whispered, as, revolver in hand, he stepped inside the statue. He slid rapidly down for a distance of six or eight feet and then landed on earth. There he lay for a minute or two, reasoning that if he should be met by a fusillade, he would be safer in that position. However, complete silence reigned about him, broken only by the steady and distant snoring. Then, lighting his electric lamp, Fandor began a survey of the premises into which he had so daringly intruded. CHAPTER XIX FREE! After a brief inspection, a cry of surprise rose to his lips. "Good Lord!... there he is! Frederick-Christian." It was indeed the King--a prisoner in the hollow foundations of the Singing Fountains. "Sire, Sire!" The King slept on. But his sleep seemed troubled; he breathed in gasps. "Sire! Sire! Wake up! I have come to save you! Upon my word, that is what might be called a royal sleep." The journalist's words made no impression on the sleeping monarch, so, ignoring all formality, he laid hands upon the King and gave him a violent shaking. "For Heaven's sake, try to recognize me ... speak to me ... I am Jerome Fandor ... I've come to save you." In leaning over the sleeping man, Fandor suddenly got a whiff of his breath and then drew back, amazed. "Why, he's drunk! As drunk as a lord! Where the deuce did he get it?... Ah, these empty bottles!... Wine!... and ham ... no wonder! What on earth shall I do with him now? How can I get him out of here? I can't leave him in the hands of the cutthroats who have imprisoned him.... But if I do take him away, how the devil will Juve and I be able to catch the accomplices of Fantomas, if he has any?" "Juve!" The very name of the detective gave him an inspiration. "Yes, that's the only way out of it ... first of all, I must save the King, get him out of danger, and then arrange a trap to catch my gang." Fandor deliberated a moment. "There's no doubt I shall run the risk of being killed in his place, but that's a risk I shall have to take." And then a smile spread over the journalist's features. "What an idiot I am! After all, there's no danger ... it was a happy thought of mine leaving that note for Juve ... he'll come to-morrow at the latest ... that gives me the rest of the night." Fandor's ruse, its daring and its almost unheard of devotion, appeared to him quite natural. It was simply to set the King at liberty and remain himself in his place. While he undoubtedly ran the risk of a bullet in his body, yet the carefully drawn plan he had left in Juve's rooms would enable the detective to find his prison without difficulty. * * * * * The first problem that presented itself was to get the drunken King away.