CHAPTER XVIII

A SLEEPER

Fandor sat up in bed as the door of his room opened to admit the
cautious head of Wulf. "Your Majesty is awake?" he inquired.

"Yes, my Majesty is awake and ready to get up. Wulf, we are going out
to-day."

"As your Majesty wishes."

"The Queen has written to say that she is getting bored, and wants me
home again. That being the case we had better make the most of our few
remaining days, you understand?"

"Not very well."

"Why, this afternoon we must look up some pretty girls and, as my cousin
the King of England says, 'Honi soit qui mal y pense.' Evil to him who
evil thinks. And now, au revoir, my dear Wulf; by and by I'll invite you
to crack a bottle with me."

The punctilious Wulf made the three bows demanded by etiquette, turned
on his heel, and left the room.

Fandor sprang out of bed and began to dress.

"After all, it's not altogether a joke," he muttered. "I had to listen
to that idiot Wulf jawing away all yesterday evening ... and if I
remember right, he said something about being suspicious of that little
Marie Pascal. I'll have to stop him making more blunders. He's quite
capable of having her arrested. Anyway, Wulf is to do nothing till the
return of Juve, and that will give me time to take my precautions."

* * * * *

Fandor and Wulf had just finished a very excellent dinner, which Fandor
paid for out of his own pocket. He was careful not to take any of the
royal funds for his personal use. Wulf hovered on the borderland of
drunkenness, but his ideas still showed some coherence. For the
twentieth time he asked Fandor the same question:

"But, Sire, why the deuce are you wearing a false moustache and whiskers
to-day?"

"So that I may not be recognized, my friend. I don't like having to give
royal tips everywhere."

Fandor was not speaking the truth. His disguise was assumed for other
reasons. He did not wish to be recognized either as Frederick-Christian
or as Fandor. Since noon--and it was now ten o'clock at night--the two
men had been doing Paris together, and Wulf had received the very
gratifying appellations of "my excellent friend," "my subtle detective,"
and other flattering names, so he was now dreaming of decorations, new
decorations created especially for him.

Fandor interrupted his thoughts by patting him familiarly on the
shoulder:

"Now that we've had dinner, I'm going to tell you something. We've had
quit