"You will say to him," he said finally, "that you have decided, in the interest of Prosper, to place her in a house where she can watch some one whom you suspect." The joyous Fanferlot rolled the photograph, took his hat, and prepared to leave. M. Lecoq detained him by a gesture:--"I have not finished," he said. "Do you know how to drive a carriage and take care of a horse?" "Why, patron, you ask me that--an old rider of the Bouthor Circus?" "Very well. As soon as the judge has dismissed you, return home, and prepare a wig and livery of a _valet de chambre_ of the first class; and having dressed, go with this letter to the Agency on the Rue Delorme." "But, patron--" "There are no 'buts,' my boy; for this agent will send you to M. Louis de Clameran, who needs a new _valet de chambre_, his own having left yesterday evening." "Excuse me if I dare say that you are deceived. Clameran will not agree to the conditions: he is no friend of the cashier." "How you always interrupt me," said M. Lecoq, in his most imperative tones. "Do only what I tell you, and let everything else alone. M. Clameran is not a friend to Prosper. I know that. But he is the friend and protector of Raoul de Lagors. Why? Who can explain the intimacy of these two men of such different ages? We must know this. We must also know who _is_ M. Louis de Clameran--this forge-master who lives in Paris and never goes to his own factories! A jolly dog who has taken it into his head to live at the Hotel du Louvre and who mingles in the whirling crowd, is difficult to watch. Through you, I shall have my eye on him. He has a carriage; you will drive it; and in the easiest way you will know his acquaintances, and be able to give me an account of his slightest proceedings." "You shall be obeyed, patron." "Still another word. M. De Clameran is very irritable and suspicious. You will be introduced to him as Joseph Dubois. He will ask for your recommendations. Here are three, showing that you have served the Marquis de Sairmeuse, the Count de Commarin, and your last place--the house of the Baron de Wortschen, who has just gone to Germany. Keep your eyes open, be correct, and watch his movements. Serve well, but without excess of manner. But don't be too cringing, for that would arouse suspicion." "Make yourself easy, patron: now, where shall I report?" "I will come to see you every day. Until you have an order, don't step inside of this house: you might be followed. If anything unforeseen occurs, send a dispatch to your wife, and she will advise me. Now go; and be prudent." The door shut behind Fanferlot, and M. Lecoq passed quickly into his bedroom. In the twinkling of an eye he stripped off all traces of the official detective chief,--the starched cravat, the gold spectacles, and the wig, which when removed released the thick black hair.