It was finally arranged that Juve should go to the America Hotel and call on the pseudo Grand Duchess Alexandra, and that Fandor should see Marie Pascal. They were about to put this project into execution when a loud knocking at the door startled them. Fandor sprang forward, but the detective quickly thrust him into the bedroom, and opened the door himself. "You here, Wulf!" "As you see." The absurd officer marched into the apartment with an air of great satisfaction. "Well, Monsieur Juve, and what do you think of my detective instinct?" "I don't understand." "Ah, you thought you'd got rid of me at the Sud-Nord Station, didn't you, but I fooled you. I arrived at the scene of the explosion at the precise moment you were giving an address to the chauffeur and carrying away a body." "A body ... in pretty good health!" "Furthermore, I came across some one you were looking for, I think." "Fantomas?" "No, not Fantomas, but the Primitive Man, generally called Ouaouaoua." "And you let him go?" "Oh, I let him go all right, but not before he gave me his address." Juve smiled grimly. "A nice mess you've made of it!" Wulf continued with an air of great importance: "I can tell you something else, the King returns to Glotzbourg to-night, but before he goes we shall have the guilty person arrested." A slight noise made Wulf turn his head and then give a loud cry. Fandor had entered the room. "Good God! Who is that?... the King?... No, it's not the King ... help! help!" Wulf cast frightened glances to right and left and then made a dive for the door, slamming it behind him as he rushed out: "I knew he was a fool," exclaimed Juve, "but I didn't know he was crazy besides. And to think he had Fantomas in his hands and let him go!" The two men now reverted to their interrupted project and decided to pay their respective visits to Marie Pascal and Lady Beltham. * * * * * "Mam'zelle Marie! Mam'zelle Marie! Come in and rest a bit!" The pretty lace-maker was passing the office of the concierge, the so-called Mother Citron. The young girl accepted the invitation and sat down, heaving a deep sigh. It was only ten in the morning but her red eyes and her face showed signs of having passed a bad night. "You mustn't work so hard!" exclaimed the concierge. "Oh, it isn't my work; that rests me, it helps me to forget.... I have so many troubles." "Tell me all about them." By degrees and through her tears, Marie confided all that had happened to her since the night of the murder. The avowal of love she had made to the King and the unforgettable hour she had passed in his company; then the police inquiries, suspicions, and the fact that they were continually following her. * * * * * "Ah, if only I had some one to turn to. I've thought of going to see this detective the King spoke of, M. Juve."