a.

"If anyone did, let him come and join us, the more the merrier."

"I thought I heard a noise," continued Susy, but the King made her sit
down again beside him and the supper went on.

As she drank glass after glass of wine, she became more and more amiable
toward Fandor. And since the King paid little attention to her caresses,
she began a flirtation with the journalist in order to pique him.

This brought a frown from the royal lover, and Susy amused herself
between the two men until supper ended and they all adjourned to her
boudoir.

Fandor, who had now become more sober, decided it was time to take his
leave.

"Suppose you both come and lunch with me to-morrow, will you?" he asked.
To this they agreed and it was finally arranged that Fandor should call
and pick them up at one o'clock the following day.

The journalist felt his way downstairs in the semi-darkness and was just
about to ask the concierge to let him out when he was startled by
seeing a heavy form fall with a thud onto the ground of the inner court.

With a gasp of alarm the young man rushed forward and quickly realized
that he was in the presence of a terrible tragedy.

Lying on the ground, inert, was the body of Susy d'Orsel.

The unfortunate girl had fallen from the third floor.

Without hesitating, he lifted the body and finding no sign of life,
cried loudly for help.

But the entire house was asleep.

What was to be done?

Immediate action was necessary. After a moment's pause, he decided to
take the unfortunate girl back to her own apartment. Arrived at the
door, he found it locked on the inside. After ringing for some time, it
was opened finally by the King. At the sight of Susy apparently
lifeless, her head hanging backward, the King staggered to the wall.

He wanted to ask a question, but the words stuck in his throat.

Fandor entered the bedroom and laying Susy down attempted to undo her
corset.

"Vinegar and some water," he ordered.

The King between his drunkenness and his alarm was quite useless, and
the journalist, after applying a mirror to the girl's nostrils and lips,
with a gesture of despair exclaimed:

"Good God, she is dead!"

However, being unwilling to risk his own judgment, he started to the
door to seek aid.

At this moment a violent knocking began and a voice from the hall cried
out:

"What's the matter? Is anyone hurt? I'm the concierge."

"The concierge! Then, for Heaven's sake, Madame, get a