e a day of it; we've visited the Bois, where you spat in the lake,
the action of a reflective mind; we've been to the top of the Arc de
Triomphe and to the Madeleine, so now there is only one joy remaining."

Wulf nodded: "To pay for the dinner."

"Not exactly," laughed Fandor, "that's more of a penance. No, I was
referring to a chance meeting, a charming feminine figure, a kiss, a
caress. Wulf, what would you say to two plump white arms around your
neck?"

Wulf became purple in the face.

"Oh, Sire, that would be great! But when I am with your Majesty, I don't
look at women."

"And why not, Wulf?"

"Because the women only look at you."

"That's so, Wulf, that's so; but there is a way of fixing that. You
order a drink which I will pay for, then sit here and count all the
carriages that pass in the street while I do an errand, it will only
take twenty-five minutes.... I'm going to see a girl I know you
understand?"

"Yes, Sire. Must I count all the carriages?"

"No, only those drawn by white horses. Au revoir, Wulf."

Fandor left the cafe and hailed a cab:

"Rue Bonaparte. I'll tell you where to stop." He settled back in his
seat, an anxious frown on his face.

"I'll just drop a hint to Juve," he thought. "One never knows what may
happen.... I suppose he'll be back soon ... to-morrow morning or evening
... and won't he be glad to hear the result of my search!"

Fandor tapped on the glass with his cane, got out, paid the driver and
made his way to the house where Juve lived. He still had his pass-key
and let himself in, calling:

"Hello! Juve, are you in?"

There was no answer, so Fandor sat at Juve's desk and wrote a long
letter, then tracing a diagram upon another sheet, he put them into an
envelope addressed to "Monsieur Juve--Urgent."

When he rejoined Wulf, he found the faithful detective on his job.

"I've counted up to 99, Sire, but I'm not quite sure that I'm exact. A
bay horse passed, and I wasn't sure whether to count him or not."

"That's all right, we'll take this up another time. I've spoken of you
to my little friend and she is crazy to meet you, Wulf."

"Oh, Sire! Sire!"

"Yes ... so come along."

"To her house?"

"Oh, no--this lady is poetic, she wants the first meeting to take place
in appropriate surroundings."

While Wulf was cudgeling his brains to think up a verse or two to fit
the occasion, Fandor guided him down the Rue Castiglione, the Rue de
Rivoli and at length reac