"Wulfenmimenglaschk," thought he, "that must be one of those extraordinary German-American cocktails which Frederick-Christian is accustomed to order." He turned to the servant:
"Pour it out." At the man's surprise Fandor realized that he had made a mistake. At this moment a very fat man with scarlet face and pointed moustache appeared in the doorway and gave the military salute, announcing in a voice of thunder:
"Wulfenmimenglaschk!"
"Good God," murmured the journalist, dropping into an armchair. "This time I'm dished. He's come from Hesse-Weimar."
CHAPTER IX
A PARTY OF THREE
Juve was busy searching in a bureau drawer while Marie Pascal was going through piles of linen in her cupboard.
"You are sure you put it there?" asked Juve. "Madame Ceiron hasn't by any chance taken it away, has she?"