ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN STATIONS
On leaving Fandor, Juve walked up the Avenue Champs Elysees, refusing
the offers of various cab drivers. He felt the need of movement as an
antidote to his growing worry over the affair. On arriving at the Rue
Saussaies, Juve sent up his card to M. Annion and requested an immediate
interview. In a few moments he was shown into M. Annion's office.
"Well, what's new? What's the result of your investigation, Juve?"
"There is nothing much to report yet. The theory of suicide is possible,
although a crime may have been committed. Whether the King is involved
or not in this affair is still uncertain. It will take me a week at
least to find out."
"In other words, you know nothing yet. Well, I can tell you a few things
you don't know. Pass me those documents."
M. Annion looked through the papers and then continued:
"When Vicart saw you this morning he forgot to give you some of the
instructions I had charged him with.... I sent two of my men to the
Royal Palace Hotel.... Do you know what they found?"
"No, I haven't the least idea. There was nothing to learn at the Royal
Palace itself."
"On the contrary, they made an extraordinary discovery."
"What was it?"
"They discovered that the King is not the King. The individual who is
posing as Frederick-Christian II is an impostor. Rather sensational
news, isn't it?"
"So sensational that I don't believe it."
"And why not, if you please?"
Juve avoided a direct reply. He asked:
"Upon what do you place this supposed imposture?"
M. Annion took up the papers before him.
"I have the evidence here before me. But first I must tell you how our
suspicions became aroused.... This morning, after your departure, we
received a telegram from Hesse-Weimar inquiring why Frederick-Christian
did not reply to the telegram sent him from his kingdom.... That gave me
an inkling of what was going on.... I sent to the Royal Palace Hotel and
there my two detectives learned that Frederick-Christian had gained the
reputation of being extremely odd, in fact, half crazy. Furthermore,
that he was acting in a manner totally different from that of former
occasions. He now scarcely moves from his room, whereas previously he
spent most of his time out of doors."
M. Annion handed Juve the documents and begged him to look them over
himself. After returning them Juve realized that his best chance would
be to gain time.
"This is going to cause a great deal of trouble. If an impostor is
really installed in the Royal Palace Hotel we shall have to notify the
Chancellor and ask for the authorization to verify ... In other words, a
number of tiresome formalities will have to be complied with."
"Wait a minute, I have more surprises for you. We now have the press on
our trail. All the evening papers publish articles inferring the guilt
of the King.... They come out boldly accusing him of murder. Would you
believe that at seven o'clock this evening there was a shouting, howling
mob in front of the Royal Palace? And so, my dear Juve, you had better
take two men with you, and without delay go to the hotel and arrest the
man who is passing for the King, and who is, besides, the murderer of
Susy d'Orsel."
This is what Juve feared; he determined to make every effort to prevent
the arrest of Fandor.
"All this is very well, but I think you will agree with me that it is a
romance, Monsieur Annion."
"May I ask why you think that?"
"Certainly, Monsieur Annion.
"You intend to arrest the false King because he is accused by the public
of murder.... If he were the real King, would you be willing to arrest
him without further proof?"
"No ... naturally not ... but then he is an impostor, so that won't
worry me."
"Very good, Monsieur Annion, and now, suppose you have guessed wrong?
After all, you are basing your conclusion upon a number of minor
details, upon the observation of hotel clerks. All that is not
sufficient. But don't you think anyone in Paris knows the King by
sight?"
"Only two persons knew him here.... The Ambassador of Hesse-Weimar, M.
de Naarboveck, who has just been changed and whose successor has not as
yet arrived. The other person is one of his friends, the Marquis de
Serac, who happens to be away from Paris just now."
Juve smiled.
"You forget one man, Monsieur Annion, who knows the King better than
either of these. I refer to the head of the Secret Service of
Hesse-Weimar ... one of my colleagues. He is at present staying at the
Royal Palace and sees the King every day. Consequently it will be
scarcely possible to deceive him."
"What is his name?" asked M. Annion.
"It's rather complicated; he calls himself Wulfenmimenglaschk, which we
may cut to Wulf for all practical purposes. What should you think of his
testimony?"
M. Annion hesitated.
"Of course, if this individual knows the King ..."
"He is attached to the King's person."
"And you are sure he recognized him at the Royal Palace?"
"I'll bring him here and let him speak for himself."
"Well, I'll give you until eleven to-morrow morning to produce this
Wulf ... or whatever he calls himself; if then he cannot positively
affirm that the King is really the King, you must arrest the impostor
immediately. If, on the other hand, he does recognize him, we must refer
the matter to the Minister of Foreign Affairs."
"That is understood," replied Juve, and he took his leave.
As Juve found himself again in the Rue de Saussaies his face clouded
over.
"Twenty-four hours gained anyway, but I wonder where the devil I can get
hold of this Wulf? I might catch him at the Moulin-Rouge ... Fandor sent
him there."
Juve drove to the music hall and, showing his card, questioned the
officials.
"I'm looking for a fat little man, probably slightly drunk, foreign
accent, wears a brown coat, tight trousers, white spats, and is
plastered all over with decorations."
"I saw him," cried one of the ushers. "I checked his overcoat and
noticed the decorations. He left some time ago."
"Confound it!" muttered Juve. "You don't know why he left so early? The
show is only beginning."
The usher smiled.
"Well, he carried a couple of girls away with him. Probably he's in some
nearby cafe."
Juve decided to spend the whole night, if necessary, to find Wulf, and
began a systematic search through all the cafes of Montmartre.
At length, about three in the morning, he decided to give himself a rest
and take a drink. For this purpose he entered a small cafe at the
corner of the Rue de Douai and the Rue Victor-Masse, and ordered a beer.
He put the usual question:
"You don't happen to have seen a fat little man, drunk and profusely
decorated?"
The proprietor at once grew excited.
"I should think I have seen him. He came in here asking for some
outlandish brand of cigarettes, and ended by taking the cheapest I had,
then paid for them with foreign money. And when I refused to take it, he
threatened me with some King or other! Aren't we still a republic, I
should like to know?"
Evidently, from the description, it could be no other than the
peripatetic Wulf.
"Was he alone?" asked Juve.
"Oh, he brought in a little blonde with him, but when she saw his fake
money, I guess she gave him the slip, for he turned to the right and she
went up the street in the opposite direction."
"The devil!" exclaimed Juve; "the trail is lost again."
A waiter stepped forward.
"I think he went to the Courcelles Station; he asked me where it was."
"The Courcelles Station!"
Juve stood staring in amazement. What on earth could Wulf want to go
there for?
"Have you a telephone?" he asked.
"Yes, Monsieur."
With great difficulty Juve succeeded in getting the connection.
"Hullo! Is that your Majesty?"
Fandor's voice replied, laughingly:
"Yes, it's His Majesty all right, but His Majesty doesn't like being
wakened up at night. What can I do for you, my dear Juve?"
"Can you tell me where Wulf is?"
"How should I know? Probably with some women, he seems crazy about
them."
"No, he hasn't any French money."
"Hold on, Juve; I advised him to take the circular tube as the best
method of seeing Paris. I told him to stay on board till he reached the
end of the line. Just a little joke of mine."
Fandor burst out laughing, and Juve rang off, angrily.
Once in the street, he stood a moment in doubt as to his next course. If
Wulf was really taking a trip in the circular tube, he would be in
process of going round and round Paris. How was it possible to overtake
him?
Hailing a taxi, he explained to the chauffeur:
"Look here, I want you to take me to the Courcelles Station ... there we
must find out in what direction the first train passes, either toward
Porte Maillot or toward the Avenue de Clichy ..."
The man stared stupidly and Juve found it necessary to explain in a few
words the quest he was setting out upon.
"If our man isn't on the first train that passes Courcelles, then we
must hurry over to the Bois de Boulogne Station, understand?"
* * * * *
Juve had the luck to learn from the ticket seller at Courcelles that she
had noticed Wulf, and that he had bought a first-class ticket; this
limited the search very considerably.
The first train pulled in, but Wulf was not on board.
Juve sprang into his taxi and now hurried over to the Bois de Boulogne.
Here the same result met him; the next station was Auteuil, then
Vaugirard, la Glaciere and Bel-Air.
It was now eight o'clock, and his appointment with M. Annion was at
eleven. What was to be done?
On reaching Menilmontant Station, Juve had about decided to abandon the
chase.
"I'll wait for one more train and then make some other plan," he
muttered.
By great good luck he caught sight of Wulf as it ran into the station.
Rushing into the carriage, he seized his man and hauled him on to the
platform.
"What's the matter? Why are you here, Monsieur Juve? I am perfectly
amazed ..."
"Where are you going, Monsieur Wulf?"
Wulf smiled fatuously:
"I have been following his Majesty's advice, seeing Paris. What an
immense city! I counted one hundred and twenty-seven stations since five
o'clock this morning and I have crossed ten rivers! Why have you stopped
me? I wanted to go to the end of the line."
Juve bustled him into the waiting taxi.
"I'll explain as we go," he replied. "It is a question of saving the
King. He is menaced by powerful and terrible enemies."
"I am ready to die for him," exclaimed Wulf. "What must I do?"
"Oh, it's not necessary to die. All you have to do is to certify before
the police authorities that the person you know as Frederick-Christian
at the Royal Palace is actually the King."
"I don't understand in the least what you mean!"
"That doesn't matter; you have only to do as I say and all will be
well."
* * * * *
M. Annion was overcome.
Wulf, after testifying to the identity of the King, had been sent to
wait in an adjoining room while Juve and M. Annion had a confidential
chat.
"Well, Juve, I can't get over it. Without you, I should have made a
terrible break! The King arrested! What a scandal! But, tell me, what's
to be done now? The public's calling for the murderer. I place myself in
your hands. What do you suggest?"
Juve thought a moment.
For the time being Fandor was safe, but he was still very far from being
out of the woods.
"Monsieur Annion," he replied at length, "there is just one method of
procedure in this case. The assassination of Susy d'Orsel, the question
of this imposture, in fact all these mysterious points which have arisen
cannot be cleared up in Paris."
"What the devil do you mean, Juve?"
"I mean that in all probability the threads of this intrigue lead to
Hesse-Weimar, to the capital of the kingdom, to Glotzbourg. And, if you
have no objection, I will start for there this evening."
"Go, go," replied M. Annion; "perhaps you are right ... anyhow, don't
forget to take letters of introduction with you."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I can get all I want from my colleague."
"Your colleague?"
"Yes, from this excellent Wulf."