"That surprises you, Fandor," exclaimed Juve, "but for the last forty-eight hours I have been watching this trouble grow, and I tell you it is going to end badly."
At the head of the mob and more daring than the others appeared a strange individual. A long-bearded old man, dressed in white, was endeavoring to force his way into the hotel and a fight was taking place at the door.
"I know him," muttered Juve, "I have seen him once or twice before trying to raise a row about this affair."
"Why it's Ouaouaoua, the Primitive Man," cried Fandor.
A squad of policemen now arrived on the scene, and without much difficulty succeeded in dispersing the mob.
"Well, Juve."
"Well, Fandor."
"To tell you the truth, Juve," admitted the journalist, "I am beginning to get a little uneasy. However, this manifestation is against Frederick-Christian, not against me...."
Juve interrupted.