ten thousand francs; she will hide you in her mistress'
bedroom. It must be quite worth that to you."

No figure of speech could describe the short, precise tone of finality
in which Corentin spoke; the Baron could not fail to observe it, and his
face expressed his astonishment--an expression he had long expunged from
his impenetrable features.

"I have also to ask you for five thousand francs for my friend Peyrade,
who has dropped five of your thousand-franc notes--a tiresome accident,"
Corentin went on, in a lordly tone of command. "Peyrade knows his Paris
too well to spend money in advertising, and he trusts entirely to you.
But this is not the most important point," added Corentin, checking
himself in such a way as to make the request for money seem quite a
trifle. "If you do not want to end your days miserably, get the place
for Peyrade that he asked you to procure for him--and it is a thing you
can easily do. The Chief of the General Police must have had notice of
the matter yesterday. All that is needed is to get Gondreville to
speak to the Prefet of Police.--Very well, just say to Malin, Comte de
Gondreville, that it is to oblige one of the men who relieved him of MM.
de Simeuse, and he will work it----"

"Here den, mensieur," said the Baron, taking out five thousand-franc
notes and handing them to Corentin.

"The waiting-maid is great friends with a tall chasseur named Paccard,
living in the Rue de Provence, over a carriage-builder's; he goes out
as heyduque to persons who give themselves princely airs. You can get at
Madame van Bogseck's woman through Paccard, a brawny Piemontese, who has
a liking for vermouth."

This information, gracefully thrown in as a postscript, was evidently
the return for the five thousand francs. The Baron was trying to guess
Corentin's place in life, for he quite understood that the man was
rather a master of spies than a spy himself; but Corentin remained
to him as mysterious as an inscription is to an archaeologist when
three-quarters of the letters are missing.

"Vat is dat maid called?" he asked.

"Eugenie," replied Corentin, who bowed and withdrew.

The Baron, in a transport of joy, left his business for the day, shut
up his office, and went up to his rooms in the happy frame of mind of a
young man of twenty looking forward to his first meeting with his first
mistress.

The Baron took all the thousand-franc notes out of his private
cash-box--a sum sufficient to make