A Royal Prisoner: Fantômas Saga. Marcel Allain
in and have a cup of coffee, Mam'zelle Pascal," urged the old woman, as she set out two cups and filled them from a coffee pot on the stove.
Marie Pascal at first refused, but Mother Citron was so insistent that she ended by accepting the invitation. Besides, she felt very grateful to Madame Ceiron for having recommended her to the proprietor of the house, the Marquis de Sérac, an old bachelor who lived on the first floor.
The Marquis had used his good offices to obtain for her an order for laces from the King of Hesse-Weimar. Mother Citron showed a kindly interest in this enterprise.
"Well, did you see the King?"
Marie Pascal hesitated:
"I saw him and I didn't see him."
"Tell me all about it, my dear. Is the lover of our lady upstairs a good-looking man?"
"It's hard to say. So far as I could judge, he seemed to be very handsome. You see, it was like this. After waiting in the lobby of the Royal Palace Hotel for about an hour, I was shown into a large drawing-room; a sort of footman in knee breeches took my laces into the adjoining room where the King was walking up and down. I just caught a glimpse of him from time to time."
"What did he do then?"
"I don't know. He must have liked my laces for he gave me a large order. He didn't seem to pay much attention to them; he picked out three of the samples I sent in and what seemed queer, he also ordered some imitations of them."
The concièrge smiled knowingly.
"I expect the imitations were for his lawful wife, and the real ones for his little friend. Men are all alike. Another cup of coffee?"
"Oh, no, thanks."
"Well, I won't insist; each one to his taste. The life Susy d'Orsel leads wouldn't suit you. And the amount of champagne she gets through!"
"No, I shouldn't care much about that."
"All the same, there's something to be said for it. She has a first-rate position since she got the King ... and I get first-rate tips! Take to-night, for instance; I'll bet they'll be carrying on till pretty near dawn. It upsets my habits, but I can't complain. I'll probably get a good New Year's present in the morning."
"Well, as it's very late for me, I'll go up to bed."
"Go ahead, my dear, don't let me keep you."
Marie Pascal had reached the stairs when she turned back.
"Oh, Madame Ceiron, when can I thank the Marquis de Sérac for his kindness in introducing me to Frederick-Christian?"
"No hurry, my child, the Marquis has gone to the country to spend the New Year's day with his relations and he won't be back before next week."
Marie Pascal climbed the stairs to her room on the sixth floor and the concièrge returned to her quarters and settled herself in an armchair.
CHAPTER III
THE TRAGEDY OF THE RUE DE MONCEAU
Susy d'Orsel, tired of waiting for her royal lover, was sound asleep before the fire in her bedroom. Suddenly she was awakened by a loud noise. Still half asleep, she sat up listening. The sounds came from the stairs. Mechanically Susy glanced at the clock, which marked the quarter after three.
"I'll bet it's him, but how late he is!"
As the sounds drew nearer, she added:
"He must be as drunk as a lord! After all, Kings are no better than other men."
She quickly passed to the outer door and listened.
"Why, it sounds as if there were two of them!"
A key fumbled in the lock, then the owner of it apparently gave up the task as hopeless and began ringing the bell.
Susy opened the door and Frederick-Christian staggered in followed by a man who was a total stranger to her.
The latter, bowing in a correct and respectful manner, carried himself with dignity.
The King bubbled over with laughter and leaned on the shoulder of his lady-love.
"Take off your overcoat," she said, at length, and while he was attempting to obey her, she whispered:
"If your Maj ..."
Before she could finish the sentence the King put his hand over her mouth.
"My ... my ... my dear Susy ... I'm very fond of you ... but don't begin by saying stupid things.... I am here ... incog ... incognito. Call me your little Cri-Cri, Susy...."
"My dear," she replied, "introduce me to your friend."
"Eh," cried the King, "if I'm not forgetting the most elementary obligations of the protocol; but after fourteen whiskeys, and good whiskey, too, though I've better here.... Susy don't drink any, she prefers gooseberry syrup ... queer taste, isn't it?"
Susy saw the conversation was getting away from the point, so repeated her request:
"Introduce me to your friend."
Frederick-Christian glanced at his companion and then burst out laughing:
"What is your name, anyway?"
Fandor did not need to ask that question of the King. The moment he had set eyes on him in Raxim's he recognized in the sturdy tippler his Majesty Frederick-Christian II, King of Hesse-Weimar, on one of his periodic sprees. It was this fact which had made him break his rule and indulge freely himself.
With a serious air he explained:
"Sum fides Achates!"
"What's that?" cried the King.
"Exactly."
Susy d'Orsel now thought both men were equally drunk. She fancied they were having fun with her.
"You know I don't want English spoken here," she said drily.
The King took his mistress round the waist and drew her to him.
"Now don't get angry, my dear, it's only our fun, and besides it's not English, it's Latin ... bonus ... Latinus ... ancestribus ... the good Latin of our ancestors!... the Latin of the Kitchen! Cuisinus ... autobus ... understand?"
Turning to the journalist he stretched out his hand:
"Well, my old friend Achates, I'm jolly glad to meet you."
"Achates isn't a real name," cried Susy, still suspicious.
"Achates," explained Fandor, "is an individual belonging to antiquity who became famous in his faithful friendship for his companion and friend, the well-known globe-trotter, Æneas."
"Come and sit down," shouted the King, as he rapped on the table with a bottle of champagne.
"Hurry up, Susy, a plate and glass for my old friend, whose name I don't know ... because, you see, he's no more Achates than I am."
"Oh, no, Madame," Fandor hastened to say, "I couldn't think of putting you to the trouble, besides spoiling the effect of your charming table. In fact, I am going home in a few moments."
"Not on your life," shouted the King, "you'll stay to the very end."
"Well, then, a glass of champagne, that's all I'll take."
By degrees Susy had become reassured in regard to the young man. Although slightly drunk, his polite manner and good form pleased her. She took her place on the divan beside the King. Fandor sat opposite them and lighted a cigarette.
Suddenly Susy rose from the table.
"Where are you going?" demanded the King.
"I'll be back in a moment ... something must be open. I feel a draught