devouring, insatiable thirst.

Where he was and how he had arrived there were things past his
comprehension.

So far as the feeble light permitted, he made out the room to contain
the furnishings of an office, and by degrees, as his mind cleared, he
recalled with a start his arrest.

He was at the police station.

But why in this particular room? The walls were hung with sporting
prints. Bookshelves, a comfortable sofa, upon which he had spent the
night, all these indicated nothing less than the private office of the
chief.

And then he recalled with what consideration he had been conducted
hither. Evidently they took him for an intimate friend of the King.
Nevertheless, he was under arrest for murder, or at least as an
accomplice to a murder.

"After all," he thought, "the truth will come to light, they'll capture
the murderer and my innocence will be established.

"Besides, didn't the King promise to see me through. Probably before
this he has already taken steps for my release."

He then decided to call out:

"Is there anyone here?"

Scarcely had Fandor spoken when a man entered, who, after a profound bow
to the journalist, drew the curtains apart.

"You are awake, Monsieur?"

Fandor was amazed. What charming manners the police had!

"Oh, yes, I'm awake, but I feel stiff all over."

"That is easily understood, and I hope you will pardon ... You see, I
didn't happen to be at the station ... and when I got here ... why, I
didn't like to wake you."

"They take me for a friend of the King of Hesse-Weimar," thought Fandor.

"You did perfectly right, Monsieur ..."

"M. Perrajas, District Commissioner of Police ... and the circumstances
being such ... the unfortunate circumstances ... I imagine it was better
that you did not return immediately to your apartment ... in fact, I
have given the necessary orders and in a few moments ... the time to get
a carriage ... I can, of course, rely upon the discretion of my men who,
besides, are ignorant of ..."

"Oh, that's all right."

Fandor replied in a non-committal tone. It would be wiser to avoid any
compromising admission. A carriage!--what carriage, doubtless the Black
Maria to take him to prison. And what did he mean by 'the discretion of
his men?'

"Well," thought Fandor, "he can count upon me. I shan't publish anything
yet. And after all, it's going to be very hard for me to prove my
innocence. Since I must rely on the King getting me out of this ho