what, monsieur?"

"I am wondering if you would consent to do what I wish. It would be a
very good plan, but if it displeases you, we will say no more about it."

"And what do you wish?"

"To see you every day, so as to tell you what I've done, and to obtain
such directions as I may require. I'm well aware that I can't go to M.
de Fondege's door and ask to speak to you; but there are other ways
of seeing each other. For instance, every evening at five o-clock
precisely, I might pass along the Rue Pigalle, and warn you of my
presence by such a signal as this: 'Pi-ouit!'" So saying he gave vent to
the peculiar call, half whistle, half ejaculation, which is familiar to
the Parisian working-classes. "Then," he resumed, "you might come down
and I would tell you the news; besides, I might often help you by doing
errands."

Mademoiselle Marguerite reflected for a moment, and then bowing her
head, she replied:

"What you suggest is quite practicable. On and after to-morrow evening I
will watch for you; and if I don't come down at the end of half an hour,
you will know that I am unavoidably detained."

Chupin ought to have been satisfied. But no, he had still another
request to make; and instinct, supplying the lack of education, told him
that it was a delicate one. Indeed, he dared not present his petition;
but his embarrassment was so evident, and he twisted his poor cap so
despairingly, that at last the young girl gently asked him: "Is there
anything more?"

He still hesitated, but eventually, mustering all his courage, he
replied: "Well, yes, mademoiselle. I've never seen Monsieur Ferailleur.
Is he tall or short, light or dark, stout or thin? I do not know. I
might stand face to face with him without being able to say, 'It's he.'
But it would be quite a different thing if I only had a photograph of
him."

A crimson flush spread over Mademoiselle Marguerite's face. Still she
answered, unaffectedly, "I will give you M. Ferailleur's photograph
to-morrow, monsieur."

"Then I shall be all right!" exclaimed Chupin. "Have no fears,
mademoiselle, we shall outwit these scoundrels!"

So far a silent witness of this scene, M. Fortunat now felt it his duty
to interfere. He was not particularly pleased by his clerk's suddenly
increased importance; and yet it mattered little to him, for his only
object was to revenge himself on Valorsay. "Victor is a capable and
trustworthy young fellow, mademoiselle," he declared; "he has gro