Andre remained for the rest of the hours of darkness at the kind old man’s house, and it was in Gaston’s room that he renewed his “make-up” before leaving. The future looked very bright to him as he walked gayly up the Boulevard Malesherbes. The wine-shop in which he had taken up his position was admirably adapted for keeping watch on De Croisenois, for he could not avoid seeing all who came in and went out of the house; and as there was no other wine-shop in the neighborhood, Andre felt sure that all the servants in the vicinity, and those of the Marquis, of course, among the number, would come there in the course of the morning; so that here he could get into conversation with them, offer them a glass of wine, and, perhaps, get some information from them. The room was large and airy, and was full of customers, most of whom were servants. Andre was racking his brain for a means of getting into conversation with the proprietor, when two new-comers entered the room. These men were in full livery, while all the other servants had on morning jackets. As soon as they entered, an old man, with a calm expression of face, who was struggling perseveringly with a tough beefsteak at the same table as that by which Andre was seated, observed,-- “Ah! here comes the De Croisenois’ lot.” “If they would only sit here,” thought Andre, “by the side of this fellow, who evidently knows them, I could hear all they said.” By good luck they did so, begging that they might be served at once, as they were in a tremendous hurry. “What is the haste this morning?” asked the old man who had recognized them. “I have to drive the master to his office, for he has one now. He is chairman of a Copper Mining Company, and a fine thing it is, too. If you have any money laid by, M. Benoit, this is a grand chance for you.” Benoit shook his head gravely. “All is not gold that glitters,” said he sententiously; “nor, on the other hand, are things as bad as they are painted.” Benoit was evidently a prudent man, and was not likely to commit himself. “But if your master is going out, you, M. Mouret, will be free, and we can have a game at cards together.” “No, sir,” answered the valet. “What! are you engaged too?” “Yes; I have to carry a bouquet of flowers to the young lady my master is engaged to. I have seen the young lady; she seems to be rather haughty.” The man, who wore an enormously high and stiff collar, was absolutely speaking of Sabine, and Andre could have twisted his neck with pleasure. “Let us hope,” remarked the coachman, as he hastily swallowed his breakfast, “that the Marquis does not intend to invest his wife’s dowry in this new venture of his.” The men then ceased to speak of their master, and began to busy themselves with their own affairs, and went out again without alluding to him any further, leaving Andre to reflect what a difficult business the detective line was.