"Come in and sit down, Monsieur Wulfenmimenglaschk."

The Marquis de SÉrac led the way into his study.

He was a powerfully built, white-haired man, in the sixties, still active, with a slightly tired voice, a typical man of the world in his manners and dress.

Very embarrassed, Wulf bowed and bowed:

"I am confused, Monsieur. Quite confused ... I ..."

"Not at all, Monsieur Wulf; now take off your overcoat, sit down and smoke a cigar. I assure you it's a great pleasure for me to talk to anyone coming from Hesse-Weimar. I left the court when I was very young, and I should be a stranger in Glotzbourg to-day; still I remember my very good friends there ... but never mind that now, we have more important subjects to discuss, Monsieur Wulf, and I'm sure you are in a hurry."

"Oh, not at all; I am only too happy and too proud ..."

"Yes, yes, Paris is a city of temptations, and I won't take too much of your time. First of all let me explain that I only received your letter yesterday, as I happened to be out of town. You state that I am in a position to render you a great service; this I shall be delighted to do as soon as you tell me what it is."

Wulf began a long and rambling story to the effect that upon leaving Glotzbourg for Paris, on his special mission to the King, he had conceived the idea of writing to the Marquis de SÉrac, whom he knew to be an intimate friend of the King, to give him a letter of introduction to His Majesty.

"But now I don't need it," he ended, "for the King is my best friend ... he received me with charming simplicity, just like an old comrade."

"Alas, my dear Wulf, His Majesty is at present exposed to the most terrible danger."

"What do you mean?"

"You have doubtless heard of the tragic death of Mlle. Susy d'Orsel, the King's mistress, which, by a curious coincidence, occurred in this very house?"

"I know! I know!"

"Well, perhaps you also know that among the King's enemies, some dare to accuse him of having killed Mlle. Susy d'Orsel?"

"Oh! Such people ought to be cut in pieces."

"Alas, Monsieur Wulf, we are not yet in a position to avenge His Majesty. You don't happen to know who the real murderer is, do you?"

"No, I haven't the least idea; but if I ever get hold of him, I shall know what to do!"

The Marquis smiled and shrugged his shoulders:

"I shall be glad to help you."

"Thanks, Monsieur le Marquis, but I'm afraid we shan't succeed. There's a French detective on the case, a man named Juve, who hasn't been able to find the man either!"

The Marquis gave a slight start:

"Ah, and Juve has found nothing, suspects nobody?"

"No."

"That is strange.... Well, Monsieur Wulf, I think we shall be able to do better. You are ready for anything?"

"For everything, on my honor!" replied Wulf, with fervor.

"Very well, then I promise you we shall have some news within a week. But excuse me a moment, I have some orders to give; I won't be a moment."

The Marquis crossed the room and opened the door; Wulf could hear him talking:

"Is that you, Madame Ceiron?"

A woman's voice answered:

"Yes, Monsieur le Marquis. What can I do for you?"

"Kindly unpack the bag in my room and when you go out be sure to lock the doors. I don't want a recurrence of what happened the other day when some one entered my apartment and left a chemise belonging to the murderer among my laundry."

"Monsieur le Marquis may rest assured his orders will be obeyed."

In a few moments the Marquis returned and M. Wulf rose to go. He repeated with emphasis his determination:

"If ever I get the chance to arrest this murderer, I will do so in the face of any danger. All for the King! That is my motto!"

"Yes, you are right, Monsieur, all for the King."

The Marquis de SÉrac bowed his visitor out, and then suddenly his smiling face underwent an astounding change of expression.

"I must clinch my alibi!"

In a moment he had torn off his false whiskers and his wig of white hair was quickly replaced by another—this time a woman's wig. With the agility of a Fregoli he then got into a skirt and waist.

Forty seconds after the departure of Wulf the Marquis de SÉrac had become ... Madame Ceiron, the conciÈrge.

Three or four pencil marks and his disguise was complete. It would be impossible for anybody not having seen this transformation to guess that the Marquis de SÉrac and old Madame Ceiron were one and the same individual.

After a quick glance into his mirror he rushed across his drawing-room, through the hall, and quickly opened a large Breton wardrobe. Through the centre of this rose a post which he seized and slid down. It was the same contrivance used by firemen to join their engines when a call was sent in. At the foot of the post in Madame Ceiron's apartment were stretched two mattresses to deaden the fall. These were placed in a small storeroom, well hidden from observation. After closing the door behind her, Madame Ceiron rushed to the hall in time to intercept Wulf on his way downstairs.

"You are looking for some one?" she asked.

"No, Madame, I have just come from the Marquis de SÉrac's apartment."

After Wulf had disappeared Madame Ceiron returned to her office and was about to enter when a voice called:

"Here I am, Madame Ceiron. I found your note under my door. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Ah, it's you, my child. You are very kind to have come, and there is something that you can do for me. I want to know if you will come upstairs to Susy d'Orsel's room with me."

"What on earth for?"

"Well, I'll tell you. It's this way: I am scared to go up there all alone."

Marie Pascal smiled.

"Of course it is rather appalling, but why do you go there, Madame Ceiron?"

"Well, you see, the police have put their seals over everything and I am paid one franc a day to see that nobody enters the apartment and breaks them. I have to take a look around from time to time, so won't you come with me?"

"Certainly, Madame Ceiron."

Marie Pascal and the conciÈrge went up together and began a careful examination of the poor girl's rooms. While the young girl was looking curiously around Madame Ceiron entered the boudoir. She crossed to the chimney and pulled out a small casket, which was hidden behind a blue curtain. She opened it quickly and inspected the contents.

"Jewels! Which would be the best to take? Ah, this ring and this bracelet ... and these earrings. Now for the key. I'll take that with me."

"Mam'zelle Marie Pascal!"

"Madame Ceiron?"

"Come along, my dear. I am so frightened, it upsets me to go through this poor girl's apartment. Just run and see if the outer door is locked."

While Marie Pascal turned her back and walked toward the door, Madame Ceiron suddenly pressed against a large box which fell over and spread a fine coal dust over the carpet.

"It is locked, Madame Ceiron."

"Then come along. I hope to Heaven this business will soon be cleared up or it will make me ill."

A few moments later Marie Pascal had returned to her own bedroom and the conciÈrge busied herself by opening in her office a parcel which she had taken from a cupboard. She was interrupted in her work by the arrival of a working woman who was engaged to take Madame Ceiron's place when she had errands to do.

"I am going to leave you alone here to-day, Madame. I have some shopping to do.... I am going to spend my New Year's gifts, buy a green dress and a hat with red feathers.... It is my turn to dress up a little."

Shortly afterwards the conciÈrge went out, taking with her the parcel she had prepared. But instead of going to the shopping district of Paris, she hurried toward the Bois de Boulogne.

When she had reached a remote part of the wood she entered a small hut. A few moments later visitors to the Bois noticed the well-known Ouaouaoua, the Primitive Man, walking down the main pathway. The enigmatic and dreamy face of this man resembled neither the Marquis de SÉrac nor Madame Ceiron and yet ...

The science of camouflage pushed to its extreme limits produces the most unexpected transformations.