uth, it would be Peyrade's ruin.

"He is a sharp fellow," thought he.

He tried to look at the man and smile, and he gave him a smile for an
answer; the smile passed muster without protest.

"For what purpose have you disguised yourself, taken rooms at the
Mirabeau, and dressed Contenson as a black servant?" asked the
peace-officer.

"Monsieur le Prefet may do what he chooses with me, but I owe no account
of my actions to any one but my chief," said Peyrade with dignity.

"If you mean me to infer that you are acting by the orders of the
General Police," said the other coldly, "we will change our route, and
drive to the Rue de Grenelle instead of the Rue de Jerusalem. I have
clear instructions with regard to you. But be careful! You are not in
any deep disgrace, and you may spoil your own game in a moment. As for
me--I owe you no grudge.--Come; tell me the truth."

"Well, then, this is the truth," said Peyrade, with a glance at his
Cerberus' red eyes.

The sham lawyer's face remained expressionless, impassible; he was doing
his business, all truths were the same to him, he looked as though
he suspected the Prefet of some caprice. Prefets have their little
tantrums.

"I have fallen desperately in love with a woman--the mistress of that
stockbroker who is gone abroad for his own pleasure and the displeasure
of his creditors--Falleix."

"Madame du Val-Noble?"

"Yes," replied Peyrade. "To keep her for a month, which will not cost me
more than a thousand crowns, I have got myself up as a nabob and taken
Contenson as my servant. This is so absolutely true, monsieur, that
if you like to leave me in the coach, where I will wait for you, on my
honor as an old Commissioner-General of Police, you can go to the hotel
and question Contenson. Not only will Contenson confirm what I have the
honor of stating, but you may see Madame du Val-Noble's waiting-maid,
who is to come this morning to signify her mistress' acceptance of my
offers, or the conditions she makes.

"An old monkey knows what grimaces mean: I have offered her a thousand
francs a month and a carriage--that comes to fifteen hundred; five
hundred francs' worth of presents, and as much again in some outings,
dinners and play-going; you see, I am not deceiving you by a centime
when I say a thousand crowns.--A man of my age may well spend a thousand
crowns on his last fancy."

"Bless me, Papa Peyrade! and you still care enough for women to----?
But you are dece