t Service! They must be carrying this joke out to the bitter
end. I'm hanged if I can understand it."

"What do you want?"

The man who since his entrance had not taken his eyes off Fandor, now
appeared to be considering him with the greatest admiration.

"Ah! Heaven be thanked.... My most cherished desire has come to
pass.... Your Majesty has been good enough to allow me the honor of a
personal interview."

"He must be mad," thought Fandor.

"Of course I was well acquainted with your august features....
Frederick-Christian II is popular in his kingdom ... his portrait hangs
on the walls of private houses as well as public buildings. But your
Majesty understands that portraits and the reality are often
dissimilar.... Now, although for seventeen years I have belonged to the
Secret Service of the Kingdom, I have never before had the honor of
meeting his Majesty face to face."

"So, Monsieur Wulf, you think I don't look like my portrait."

"Pardon me, Sire, that is not what I wish to say. The portrait
represents your Majesty as being taller and heavier, with a larger
moustache and fairer hair."

"In other words," said Fandor, smiling, "my portrait flatters me."

"Oh, Sire, quite the contrary, I assure you."

"Well, what do you want?"

Wulf was evidently waiting for this question. He rose from the seat and
made a careful inspection of the room, opening each door to see that no
one was outside listening. Then he returned to Fandor and whispered:

"I am here on a secret mission, Sire."

"Well, let's hear what it is."

"I am charged with two commissions, one which interests your Majesty,
the other the Kingdom. To begin with, I have come to get your reply to
the telegram in cipher which his Highness the Minister of the Interior
sent your Majesty yesterday."

"The deuce," thought Fandor, "this is getting annoying. What on earth
shall I tell him?"

Then with an air of innocence he asked:

"What telegram are you speaking of? I have received none."

"Your Majesty didn't receive it?"

"Well, you know the service is rotten in France."

"Yes," replied Wulf scornfully, "it's easy to see it's a Republic."

Fandor smiled. If he was compelled to run down his own country for once,
it wouldn't matter.

"What can you expect with the continual strikes ... however, that's not
our fault, is it, Wulf?"

"Quite true, Sire."

The Chief of the Secret Service leaned toward Fandor and whispered
mysteriously.

"I have