An unusual cold had continued for nearly a week, and the ice fÊte organized by the skating club upon the upper lake in the Bois de Boulogne had been announced for this particular day. This fÊte had been already frequently postponed on account of the weather. It had become a joke among Parisians to receive an invitation for a date which was invariably followed by a period of thaw, turning the lake into ice water and mud.

And now the afternoon of this January day, which began with the explosion in the Sud-Nord tunnel, had been finally decided upon. The clear atmosphere and severe cold promised no further disappointment. The fÊte was to be given in aid of the poor of the town and the admission fee was put at a high figure for the purpose of drawing a fashionable crowd and keeping out the mob. Vehicles of all kinds drew up and were parked by the shore of the lake, giving the place the appearance of a fashionable reception.

M. Fouquet-Legendre, President of the Committee, stood chatting with the Marquis de SÉrac, and both men cast frequent glances in the direction of the town.

"You are sure he will come?" M. Fouquet-Legendre inquired for the twentieth time.

"You may rely upon it, His Majesty himself promised to honor with his presence the reunion organized by your Committee."

M. Fouquet-Legendre moved away to superintend the preparation of a lunch table containing sandwiches, cakes and champagne. The Marquis de SÉrac sauntered among the crowd, exchanging bows and handshakes with his numerous friends.

To see this elegant old gentleman, jovial, smiling, without an apparent trouble in the world, it would be hard to imagine that he was the formidable and elusive FantÔmas.

The arrival of a superb limousine aroused the curiosity of the crowd. A distinguished-looking man, wearing a striking cloak and a cap of astrakhan, stepped out of it.

It was King Frederick-Christian II. The worthy president immediately suggested a glass of champagne, but the King made it quickly known that he had come to skate, and desired to remain officially incognito.

Frederick-Christian had regained his popularity in the eyes of the Parisians. The suspicion of murdering his mistress which had attached to him had gradually given way to the belief that he was innocent, and the real perpetrator of the crime was now supposed by the public to be FantÔmas.

The King proved himself to be an expert skater, and under the respectful gaze of the crowd, described graceful curves and difficult figures upon the ice. At length the attention of the King was drawn to a woman, who, equally clever, seemed to be amusing herself with copying his evolutions. The figure of this woman seemed not unfamiliar to him, and he finally set himself to follow her, increasing his speed, until the two brought up face to face. Involuntarily a name escaped his lips:

"The Grand Duchess Alexandra! You here, Madame!"

He could not forget that this woman, with all her seductive charm, was actually a redoubtable adversary of his dynasty. The pseudo Grand Duchess, however, manoeuvred skilfully, affecting such a timid and embarrassed air that by degrees the King's severity melted under her charm. She seemed a little tired and out of breath from the chase, and when she glanced round in search of support, he could scarcely do less as a gallant man than offer her his arm.

Profiting by this chance, the adventuress adroitly whispered her regrets at the unjust scandal and calumny which had coupled her name with that of Prince Gudulfin.

"Sire," she finally murmured, "give me the opportunity of proving my devotion."

The two, separated from the others, slowly skated away together. Suddenly the King stopped short; he realized he had listened with close attention to the confidences of the troubling person he still took for the Grand Duchess.

What had she been saying to him?

A few minutes later Frederick-Christian, deciding it was time to return to his Hotel, skated toward the bank. The Grand Duchess made a deep curtsey and ended her conversation with these words:

"Sire, may I beg your forgiveness for one of your subordinates?"

"It is granted, Madame ... if what you tell me comes true...."

"Your Majesty will permit me to be present at the Gare du Nord when you leave this evening."

A taxi arrived at the lake. Juve sprang out of it.

The detective bit his lip and swore upon seeing a superb limousine in which he saw seated Frederick-Christian and the Marquis de SÉrac.

"Too late again!" he muttered. "I miss Lady Beltham at the America Hotel; I miss the King at the skating. At least, let me make sure that the so-called Grand Duchess is still here."

A thorough search on the ice and among the crowd on shore failed to discover the lady, who had doubtless left at the same time as the King. While skating from group to group Juve was brought up by a conversation in low tones between M. Annion and M. Lepine. Hiding behind a tree, he listened attentively.

"Well, you know the last news?"

"Yes," declared M. Annion, "but it seems very extraordinary."

"There is no doubt, however, this Grand Duchess Alexandra should be well posted ... now. She has formally promised the King that his diamond will be found in the possession of our man ... who will be under arrest this evening...."

"You believe that?" questioned M. Lepine, with a skeptical smile.

"Well, I believe in the arrest—that is certain; but whether we shall find the diamond is another matter."

Juve's first impulse was to make himself known to his chief; but on second thoughts he decided to keep silent. He had gathered from the conversation that the arrest of FantÔmas was imminent. That, of course, was satisfactory in every respect.

The conversation continued and, as he listened, Juve could not help smiling.

"They are all right! They realize the work I've done and they want me to reap the reward of it."

M. Lepine had, in fact, asked M. Annion:

"You are quite sure Juve will be at the Gare du Nord this evening?"

"Quite sure; I have given him orders to that effect."

Juve decided it was not worth while going home to get the order. Evidently they counted upon him to be at the Station at nine o'clock; ostensibly to assist at the departure of the King, in reality to arrest FantÔmas.

The detective moved away, there was not a moment to spare. Whatever happened it was absolutely necessary that he should have an interview with Lady Beltham.

In her small oriental salon, the Grand Duchess Alexandra sat chatting with Wulf, about five o'clock in the evening.

"Really, Monsieur Wulf, you are an extraordinary man, and your intelligence is amazing."

"Madame is too indulgent," replied Wulf, beaming.

"Oh no, I am only fair to you; I know you are a man of value and that is why I have been at pains to re-establish you in the good graces of your sovereign."

Since her return to the America Hotel, Alexandra had been exceedingly busy. To begin with, she had received a visit from her lover, the Marquis de SÉrac. A long conversation in low tones had taken place, and the Marquis had left her, nervous and agitated. The adventuress had then put on a smiling face to meet the ridiculous Wulf, and after some mysterious and complicated business with him had been transacted, she had ended by loading the officer with outrageous compliments and saying:

"And now, thanks to you, Monsieur Wulf, the elusive FantÔmas is about to be arrested. Be assured the King will give you the very highest proof of his gratitude for this service. Your position at the Court of Hesse-Weimar will be more important than ever."

Night had fallen and the lamps of the Paris streets were lit up.

At the corner of the Boulevard Malesherbes and the Avenue de Villiers, not far from the door of the America Hotel, a man was seated on a bench; he seemed to be merely resting; but in reality he was closely watching each individual who entered and left the Hotel.

This man was Juve.

He began rubbing his hands with a satisfied air.

"Good, good! The evening is beginning well.... There is one important thing for me to do now; shadow Lady Beltham, and not lose sight of her for a single moment, from the time she leaves this Hotel until...."