authentic, and no one in this world can deprive me of my
function, of my official position, and what pertains to it."

"Yes!" Juve flung the word at de Naarboveck as though it were a stone
from a sling.

De Naarboveck's gesture might mean anything:

"Who?"...

Juve hurled another two stones in the shape of words.

"The king!"

De Naarboveck's nod was malicious.

"Frederick Christian alone can take from me my style and title of
ambassador.... Let him come and do it!"

Juve lifted a finger slowly towards the far end of the library, in the
direction of the window.

De Naarboveck, who had followed this movement mechanically, could not
restrain a cry of stupefaction, a cry of anguish.

The window curtain had just been gradually drawn apart: slowly before
the miscreant's eyes appeared the majestic form of King Frederick
Christian II, King of Hesse-Weimar.

The king was livid with suppressed rage.

Juve approached him, his eyes on de Naarboveck. The king took a large
envelope from an inner pocket and handed it to Juve.

"I am the victim of this monster's imposture, but I know how to
recognise my mistakes and rectify them.... Monsieur Juve, here is the
decree you asked me for, annulling the nomination of--Baron de
Naarboveck."

During this brief scene, Naarboveck-Fantomas had gradually backed
towards a corner of the room, his face was pallid and drawn: he had
the look of a trapped beast of prey. But at the king's last words
Naarboveck-Fantomas drew himself up to a semblance of stateliness. He
also took from an inner pocket a document. He held it out to the king:
his lips were curved in a smile of bitter irony.

"Sire," he said: "I, in my turn, hand you this! It is the plan stolen
from Captain Brocq--the mobilisation plan for the whole French army--a
plan your emperor."...

"Enough, Monsieur!" shouted the king.

The paper fell to the ground.

Juve bent quickly and picked up the document.

The king, as though to anticipate the suspicion which might be put
into words, said:

"Juve, this plan belongs to your country. Never have we wished."...

The eyes of Juve met those of the king in a deep, questioning glance.
A question was asked and answered then. But five seconds in time had
passed. Juve's glance went back to Naarboveck-Fantomas.... The bandit
had disappeared!

Juve kept his head.

"Michel!" he called: "Michel!"

Michel entered the library on the instant. He had been posted in the
gallery clos