FREDERICK-CHRISTIAN
"Another drink, Monsieur Louis?"
"I think I've had about enough."
"No, no ... this is my turn to treat."
"Well, since you put it that way, Monsieur Wulf, I can't refuse."
"Besides," added the barkeeper, "this is some very special vermouth,
only served to old clients."
"Ah," laughed Wulf, "I hope we're included in that category, for you
certainly have no better client than myself."
"Excuse me," replied the barkeeper, smiling, "we have one, your boss,
Monsieur Wulf, the King Frederick-Christian.... And while he doesn't
always finish his drinks he always pays for them."
"And that's the important thing," added M. Louis.
It was about ten in the morning, and in the bar of the Royal Palace,
deserted at this early hour, were M. Louis, Major-domo of the hotel,
Wulf, and the barkeeper, who in his turn offered a round of drinks on
the house.
As the glasses were being filled, the telephone rang to say that his
Majesty wanted to see Wulf.
"That's all right," replied Wulf condescendingly, "I'll be along by and
by."
After several more vermouths, Wulf grew expansive:
"Do you know, Monsieur Louis, that I've actually saved the King's life
twice in five days!"
"Pretty good work," commented M. Louis, politely.
"The first time was the day after my arrival in Paris. Your Government
wanted to kick up a fuss over the death of the King's little sweetheart;
in fact, they went so far as to talk of his arrest." Wulf stopped
suddenly, alarmed:
"But that is a state secret which I may not tell you. The second time
was yesterday evening, or rather early this morning. You see the King
and I had been off on a spree together."
As the barkeeper looked surprised at this announcement, Wulf explained:
"Oh, we're a couple of pals, the King and I ... like two fingers of one
hand ... that's why I was in no hurry to answer his call just now....
Well, as I was saying, we were having a little spree, and the King was
going to introduce me to a little ... but that's another secret....
I'll skip the details, it is enough to say that after waiting a while, I
found, instead of the girl, the King, my King. And where? Beside the
Singing Fountains in the Place de la Concorde. Ah! my dear friends, what
a state he was in! I hardly knew him at first; in fact, I shouldn't have
known him at all if I were not such a sharp detective. He had removed
his false beard and spectacles. I tell you Frederick-Christian has aged
ten years, his clothes were torn and covered with mud, and moreover he
was dead drunk! How he managed it in the time I don't know, for he
wasn't away from me for more than an hour. What would you have done in
my place? Left there in that deserted street he would have been at the
mercy of the first thief or assassin. Therefore, I say, I saved his life
by putting him into a cab and bringing him back to the Royal Palace.
While I was helping to put him to bed, I noticed a letter pinned to his
coat with this inscription on it, 'I am to read this when I wake.' So I
have arranged accordingly. He'll see it the first thing on opening his
eyes. Well, what do you think of that? Didn't I save the King's life a
second time?"
M. Louis nodded:
"Never twice without the third time."
"I hope so ... well, au revoir, Monsieur...."
"Pardon, Monsieur," interrupted one of the employes, "but his Majesty
has asked for you again."
"All right, I'm going," replied Wulf, as he drank his fifth vermouth.
* * * * *
"Whatever happens, whatever you are told, do not show any surprise. Take
up your customary life again as though it had never been interrupted, as
though nothing had happened since the night of December 31st."
Frederick-Christian, the victim of a racking headache, read and reread
these strange mysterious words, without in the least understanding their
meaning. After a heavy sleep, he had wakened about nine o'clock to find
himself lying comfortably in his own bed at the Royal Palace. At first
he thought it was part of his nightmare, that he was dreaming, but as he
became more fully awake, he was obliged to admit the evidence of his
senses.
At this moment, he suddenly caught sight of the crumpled letter pinned
to his counterpane; opening it, he read the lines that Fandor had
hurriedly pencilled the night before.
In spite of his exhaustion and stiffness, he sprang out of bed and was
about to ring for a servant when a feeling of caution came over him.
It would be better first to take stock of the situation.
What had happened?
Among the newspapers lying on the table, he noticed several copies of
the _Gazette_ of Hesse-Weimar.
He glanced over the most recent numbers, but found nothing unusual in
their columns. He then went back to the paper dated January 1st and to
his amazement saw the following announcement:
"Paris, 1st January. (From our Special Correspondent.) His Majesty
Frederick-Christian, contrary to his general custom, did not leave his
Hotel during New Year's Day. This may be accounted for by the fact that
the streets of Paris are, as a rule, crowded during this holiday and his
Majesty would have run the risk of being drawn into promiscuous contact
with the common people."
The copy of January 2d also remarked that the King had evinced a desire
to attend the Longchamps races, but had been prevented by the
possibility of a chance meeting with the President of the Republic, a
contingency not foreseen in the protocol. Frederick-Christian, in fact,
recalled that he had expressed a wish to attend the Longchamps meet, but
he asked himself how it was possible to have notified him of the change
of program while at that time he had mysteriously disappeared! But the
climax of his amazement was reached when he came to the following
paragraph:
"Paris, 4th January. (From our Special Correspondent.) His Majesty
Frederick-Christian II is still held in the French Capital by affairs of
the highest importance. His subjects need, however, be under no
apprehension, as his Majesty's health is excellent, this information
having been received by Hedwige, our well-beloved Queen.
"During his stay in Paris, Frederick-Christian has been especially
appreciative of the respectful and devoted services of M.
Wulfenmimenglaschk, head of the secret service of Hesse-Weimar, who, by
the exercise of his perspicacity and high intelligence, has found in the
King not only an able assistant, but a true friend, having the honor to
occupy the apartment at the Royal Palace next to his Majesty."
* * * * *
"What's this all about?" exclaimed the King, "what influence have I been
under during these last four days?"
It was easy enough to recommend him to show no surprise, but it was also
necessary to settle upon some definite attitude to take. And what about
this "Wulf"?
Frederick-Christian would have a look at this individual who claimed to
be his friend and his next door neighbor. Accordingly he rang the bell,
and sent down the message which Wulf received in the barroom. A wait of
twenty minutes followed and then the door opened without ceremony and
the King stood rooted in amazement at the appearance of his Secret
Service Chief. In the most natural manner in the world, Wulf entered the
room and stood looking slyly at the King. Then, smilingly, he said:
"Well, Sire, feel better?"
"What!" stuttered Frederick-Christian, scarcely able to speak for
indignation.
"Yes," continued Wulf, "I'm glad to see you up; as for me, I'm all
right ... but you must remember that I drank less than you did last
night. I tell you they've capital vermouth here ... shall I order your
Majesty a bottle?"
"What's your name?" asked the King.
Wulf considered his sovereign with compassion.
"He's still a bit soused," he muttered to himself, then wagging a
reproving finger at the King, he continued:
"Who am I? Wulfenmimenglaschk, Sire, at your service, and I've already
saved your life twice ... that's why I may be allowed to give you a bit
of advice. Cut out the booze, Sire, you're distinctly the worse for
wear ... you're so changed that if it wasn't for your dressing-gown...."
Wulf was undoubtedly very drunk; otherwise he could not have failed to
notice the difference between the King of the last few days and the
present one.
Frederick-Christian held himself in hand as long as possible, then burst
out:
"What does this attitude mean?... this familiarity? What makes you speak
in French?"
Wulf was first amazed at the change in his beloved master and inclined
to weep over his humiliation. He was about to give utterance to his
feelings when the King seized him by the arm and pointed to the
_Hesse-Weimar Gazette_.
"Read that! Who furnished this information?"
"Why, I did, Sire."
"Then you mean to say you have been continually with me. You occupy the
next apartment? You enjoy my friendship?"
"Yes, Sire."
The King, in a burst of rage, now held the unfortunate Wulf by the
collar and shoving him toward the door, ejected him onto the landing
with a prodigious kick.
* * * * *
Frederick-Christian, more puzzled than ever by the turn of events, now
turned his attention to his toilette. He was still in scanty attire and
went behind his screen to continue dressing. At this moment a soft and
charming voice spoke:
"Sire, are you there? It is I ... Marie Pascal."
Marie Pascal!
Where had he heard that name before? Slowly Frederick-Christian recalled
the silhouette of a young woman ... with a fair skin and light hair ...
The voice continued:
"I am glad to know that you are better, Sire. Forgive me for troubling
you now but since our last meeting things have happened of a very
serious nature ... hidden enemies want to destroy me ... to destroy
us.... First of all they accused your Majesty of the murder of Susy
d'Orsel, and now after torturing me with questions they have dared to
say it was I!... I'm sure they overheard our last conversation and
misunderstand our love for each other...."
Frederick-Christian was growing suspicious. What did this extraordinary
visit mean? Did they want to trap him into an unwary admission?
"In the name of our love, say you don't believe me guilty!"
The King hesitated.
"I don't know.... I ..."
He stopped short as Marie Pascal with a sudden movement flung down the
screen. The King in amaze stood stock still while the young girl looked
at him in utter stupefaction, with trembling lips and body shaken by
nervous tremors. Then suddenly she turned in terror, screaming:
"Help! Help! The impostor! The murderer!... the King is not the King....
Frederick-Christian has disappeared!... Who is this man?"
The girl's cries brought the Hotel servants quickly to the scene. She
continued, pointing to the King:
"Who is this man?... Frederick-Christian has disappeared!... good God,
what has happened?"
"Better call the police," suggested some one.
This met with general approval, but proceedings were suddenly
interrupted by the arrival of Wulf.
"Have you heard?" several voices asked.
"All I know," replied Wulf in a piteous tone, "is that
Frederick-Christian or not, he's got a devilish heavy foot, and when he
kicks, he kicks royally."