The journalist had indeed sufficient food for thought. From the dawn of New Year's Day he had gone from surprise to surprise. At first he thought he had been brought to the Royal Palace Hotel at the instigation of the King. That would have been the simple solution of the affair. The King must have realized the awkward predicament in which his companion was placed and in spite of his drunken stupor he would come to his assistance as soon as possible. As a matter of fact, Fandor had been set at liberty. The journalist therefore had waited patiently for the arrival of the King, who was unaccountably late.
Then little by little it began to dawn on him that the hotel people were considering him not as a friend of the King but as the King himself! Under ordinary circumstances, he would at once have made his identity known, but against that there were now a multitude of objections. His presence in the apartment of the murdered Susy d'Orsel had created an ambiguous and disagreeable situation. Again, was the personnel of the hotel really duped by the substitution?
The situation was becoming more and more difficult for Fandor. He realized that he was being watched. The evening before one of the clerks of the Royal Palace Hotel had informed him that his Majesty's automobile was ready. For a moment Fandor did not know what to do, but finally decided to take a chance for an outing. As soon as he had come downstairs he regretted his decision. Among the persons lounging in the lobby he recognized five or six detectives whom he had known and he realized that the police would have accurate information as to where he might go. On reaching the door he saw three or four automobiles lined up outside. Which one belonged to the King? Faced by this situation he acted without hesitation, he turned quickly and went back to the Royal apartment, where during the rest of the evening he had been left in peace. The following morning he awoke with a violent headache, and applied the usual remedy for the neuralgia to which he was subject. He bound up his head with a large silk scarf which he found in the Royal wardrobe. During the course of the morning his hotel bill was brought to him, which amounted to four thousand francs.
"Pretty stiff," he muttered, "for three days' stay. It may be all right for Frederick-Christian II, but for a poor devil of a journalist it is rather awkward."
Fandor was wondering what he should do about it when the telephone rang to announce a visitor. After listening at the receiver, his face suddenly lighted with a broad smile.
"Show him up," he answered.
Several moments afterwards a man entered the apartment He was about forty and wore the conventional frock coat and light gloves.
"I am," he said, "the private secretary of the Comptoir National de Crédit and am at your Majesty's disposition for the settlement of accounts. Your Majesty will excuse our sub-director for not having come himself to take your orders as it is his pleasure and honor generally to do, but he has been ill for several days and that is why I have begged permission for this audience with your Majesty."
Fandor with difficulty repressed his desire to laugh and congratulated himself that he had escaped the danger of being shown up by the sub-director who knew the real King. The Secretary brought with him a large sum of money which he placed at the disposal of the sovereign. For a moment Fandor was tempted to accept the money but his scruples held him back. If things should turn out badly it would not do to lay himself open to the charge of usurping the Royal funds as well as the personality of the King. So he limited himself to handing over the hotel bill, saying:
"Kindly settle this without delay and don't stint yourself with the tips."