, let me present the Dean of the Court, the Burgomaster of
Rung Cassel ..."

"The deuce!" thought Juve, "a bore, by the look of him!"

Escape was hopeless, the Burgomaster seized the detective by the arm and
announced:

"I am the author of a work in 25 volumes on "The History of the Dark
Continent." Now I hear that you have just returned from a journey of
exploration in Africa and ..."

The old historian dragged Juve into the Palace gardens and the latter
thought:

"Hang it, I couldn't have pitched on a worse introduction, I don't know
the first thing about Africa."

But the author of the 25 volumes quickly set him at ease. For he began
by admitting that he himself had never set foot out of Glotzbourg.

Under these circumstances Juve recovered his nerve and glibly discussed
the peculiarities of the African fauna.

* * * * *

An hour later the two men were still talking, but this time it was Juve
who was anxious to keep the conversation going. The good Burgomaster
had drifted into gossip about the affairs of the Kingdom; suddenly he
turned to the detective with a question:

"Do you believe in this story about a visit to Paris?"

Juve hesitated and then made an ambiguous reply.

The Burgomaster continued:

"Personally, I don't. You see, my windows look toward the large
octagonal wing in which are the apartments of the King. Now, for the
past week I have noticed strange lights moving about in these supposedly
empty rooms, and I have a notion that our dear King Frederick-Christian
is very far from being in Paris. In fact, I think he is held a prisoner
in his own Palace!

"Ah, Monsieur, you cannot imagine the intrigues which are being hatched
against that noble heart; the black wickedness of the soul of Prince
Gudulfin, hidden under the exterior of his seductive person!"

Juve was impressed. He was inclined to give some credence to the
suppositions of the Burgomaster. For, after all, his search in Paris for
the King had been without result and he had had the presentiment that
his trip to Hesse-Weimar would throw some light upon the strange
disappearance of the monarch.

So, while the old man was talking, Juve carefully noted in his mind the
minutest architectural details of the octagonal tower which stood out
clearly against the sky.

CHAPTER XV

THE MYSTERIOUS PRISON

"Good Lord! How my head aches! It feels as though it were made of
lead!... I have a fire in m