ich 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.

A squad of policemen now arrived on the scene, and without much
difficulty succeeded in dispersing the mob.

* * * * *

"Well, Juve."

"Well, Fandor."

"To tell you the truth, Juve," admitted the journalist, "I am beginning
to get a little uneasy. However, this manifestation is against
Frederick-Christian, not against me...."

Juve interrupted.

"Idiot, don't you understand what's happening? Either one of two things.
You are the King, and therefore in the opinion of the public the
murderer of Susy d'Orsel, or you are not the King, and in that case you
are an impostor, which will make it all the more likely that you will be
considered as the murderer."

"Not much," cried Fandor. "You seem to forget it was I who picked
up ..."

"Who knows that?" continued Juve. "Why, my dear fellow, think for a
moment, if the King is guilty, and even if he is not, he will be only
too glad to throw the responsibility for this tragedy upon your
shoulders.... That would let him out of it completely. The situation
could not be much worse. Suppose that this evening, to-morrow, at any
moment some one finds out that you are not the King, you will then not
only be suspected of the murder of Susy d'Orsel, but you will be accused
of having done away with the King.... Where is the King? You haven't the
least idea. Then what answer could you make?"

"The devil," murmured Fandor, suddenly growing pale. "I didn't think of
that. You are right, Juve, I am in a bad fix."

There was a moment of silence. The two men looked at one another,
troubled and anxious. Then Fandor, struck by a sudden inspiration,
seized his