an I find Mr. Randolph?" As the drowsy
slave was assembling his wits, a notably pleasant voice behind Rene
said: "I am Mr. Randolph, at your service. Have I not the pleasure to
see the Vicomte de Courval?"

"Yes, I am he."

"Come into my office." Rene followed him, and they sat down to talk in
the simply furnished front room.

The Secretary, then in young middle age, was a largely built man and
portly, dark-eyed, with refined features and quick to express a certain
conciliatory courtesy in his relations with others. He used gesture more
freely than is common with men of our race, and both in voice and manner
there was something which Rene felt to be engaging and attractive.

He liked him, and still more after a long talk in which the duties of
the place were explained and his own indisposition to speak of his past
life recognized with tactful courtesy.

Randolph said at last, "The office is yours if it please you to accept."

"I do so, sir, most gladly."

"Very good. I ought to say that Mr. Freneau had but two hundred and
fifty dollars a year. It is all we can afford."

As Rene was still the helper of Schmidt, and well paid, he said it was
enough. He added: "I am not of any party, sir. I have already said so,
but I wish in regard to this to be definite."

"That is of no moment, or, in fact, a good thing. Your duties here
pledge you to no party. I want a man of honor, and one with whom state
secrets will be safe. Well, then, you take it? We seem to be agreed."

"Yes; and I am much honored by the offer."

"Then come here at ten to-morrow. There is much to do for a time."

Madame was pleased. This at least was not commerce. But now there was
little leisure, and no time for visits to the Hill, at which the two
conspiring cupids, out of business and anxious, smiled, doubtful as to
what cards Fate would hold in this game: and thus time ran on.

The work was easy and interesting. The Secretary, courteous and
well-pleased, in that simpler day, came in person to the little room
assigned to De Courval and brought documents and letters which opened a
wide world to a curious young man, who would stay at need until
midnight, and who soon welcomed duties far beyond mere French
letter-writing.

By and by there were visits with papers to Mr. Wolcott at the Treasury
Department, No. 119 Chestnut Street, and at last to Fauchet at Oeller's
Hotel.

He was received with formal civility by Le Blanc, a secretary, and
present