Ah, these empty bottles!... Wine!... and ham ... no wonder! What on
earth shall I do with him now? How can I get him out of here? I can't
leave him in the hands of the cutthroats who have imprisoned him.... But
if I do take him away, how the devil will Juve and I be able to catch
the accomplices of Fantomas, if he has any?"

"Juve!"

The very name of the detective gave him an inspiration.

"Yes, that's the only way out of it ... first of all, I must save the
King, get him out of danger, and then arrange a trap to catch my gang."
Fandor deliberated a moment.

"There's no doubt I shall run the risk of being killed in his place, but
that's a risk I shall have to take."

And then a smile spread over the journalist's features.

"What an idiot I am! After all, there's no danger ... it was a happy
thought of mine leaving that note for Juve ... he'll come to-morrow at
the latest ... that gives me the rest of the night."

Fandor's ruse, its daring and its almost unheard of devotion, appeared
to him quite natural. It was simply to set the King at liberty and
remain himself in his place.

While he undoubtedly ran the risk of a bullet in his body, yet the
carefully drawn plan he had left in Juve's rooms would enable the
detective to find his prison without difficulty.

* * * * *

The first problem that presented itself was to get the drunken King
away.

Frederick-Christian lay, an inert mass, quite incapable of rendering any
assistance. Fandor began by drawing himself up to the opening and taking
a look around. The Place de la Concorde was deserted.

"Well, to work!" he cried. "There is nothing for me to do but to haul
him out, then put the body of the statue back in place.... If in three
days nothing happens, why I shall be free to leave. The ham will keep me
going, and as for the wine ... Ah! an idea!"

The journalist seized half a dozen of the empty bottles, climbed out and
filled them with water; returning, he drew from his pocket a thin silk
cord he had taken from Juve's room. By its aid and with a strength of
which his slender figure gave no evidence, he succeeded in hauling the
King up to the open air.

"And now for another foot bath," exclaimed Fandor; "saving Kings is a
sorry business."

Having waded again through the icy water of the basin, Fandor carried
the unconscious monarch upon his shoulders and deposited his burden on
the sidewalk. He was about to regain his dungeon