hed the Place de la Concorde. He cast an
anxious glance as he passed at the mysterious repairs, repairs not
indexed by the administration, and then turned to the Singing Fountains.

"Sire, is this the place?"

"Yes, Wulf, but first there are a few formalities to be gone through."

The two men had reached the parapet overlooking the Seine.

"You are to stand here, Wulf, and look down at the water. You are not to
take your eyes off it."

"Why? What does your Majesty mean?"

"Because I have a surprise in store for you, and also I wish to bring
about the meeting in a natural manner--to spare the lady's feelings. Now
I shall go to meet her and take her to the Singing Fountains. When I
whistle you are to join us. Does that meet with your approval?"

"Your Majesty is most kind."

Fandor moved away and after glancing back to make sure Wulf was obeying
orders, he quickly drew his revolver and approached the works.

"I must remember Juve's precept," he muttered, "never fire first, and
then only when you're sure to hit."

The journalist now examined the palisade which surrounded a ditch of
some depth dug in the angle made by the Orangery walls.

"Can't see anything from the outside," he thought, "so I'll go in."

With a running jump he succeeded in catching hold of the palisade top
and in a moment was sitting astride of it.

Nobody was in sight. Fandor was a little surprised. He expected to be
confronted by some sinister individual.

"All right," he growled, "if you don't mind I'll come in."

Letting go of the top he slid down to the ground. There he found a
large hole in which was placed a ladder. This led to the bottom of the
ditch where a series of pipes protruded from the soil. Fandor lit his
pocket lamp and carefully examined the surroundings.

"Ah," he exclaimed, "it looks as though some perfectly natural repair
work was going on."

He then went down listening at each pipe mouth. One of them gave out a
peculiar sound, steady and cadenced, in fact, a snore, a real snore.

"Can he be asleep," he muttered.

Climbing quickly out of the ditch, Fandor reached the street again and
ran toward the Singing Fountains.

"Either the 'Curiosities of Paris' which I read yesterday in the library
is a collection of bad jokes, or the body of the third statue ..."

He did not complete his thought.

After once more making sure that nobody was about, and that the
excellent Wulf was still absorbed in contemplation of the