What could Fandor do? Write? Yes?... Good. That was capital. He could draw, too? then he could draw signatures? in fact, copy signatures, eh? copy them, you know, eh? Yes, again? Better and better ... The old man seemed delighted. Fandor had judicially sized up his new employer by this time; yes, there was no doubt he could be of great service to him on occasions. Then M. Moche had asked the young man to tell him precisely who and what he was. But on that point, Fandor had proved reticent to the last degree. “I’ve got pals,” this was all he would say, “who have nicknamed me ‘Little Tremendous,’ because I’m pretty nimble with my maulies and ain’t afraid to use ’em.” The information was vague enough. But Moche was not the man to insist on any excessive precision of statement. He felt little doubt his new clerk must have had a somewhat chequered past. If it didn’t suit him to let out exactly who he was, well, that was his business ... And that was why Moche, after informing Fandor that he would be where clients were concerned the “Chief of Staff” in his office, addressed the young man familiarly by the name he had chosen to give himself. “Look here, young Handy Man, I’m going to send you on an errand.” “Very good, M’sieu Moche.” “An errand to a pretty girl’s....” “Better still, M’sieu Moche.” “But no nonsense, you know! it’s a serious matter, and you must be serious. No larks with the girl, she’s going to be my tenant.” “You’re a house owner then, M’sieu Moche?” “Yes, my boy, a house owner, but a poor, hard-up one at that; don’t you go and think I’m a millionaire ... Anyhow, I’ve a bit of a place where the young lady in question has rented a flat.” “And that’s where I’m to go, M’sieu Moche?” “No, my ‘Little Tremendous,’ you’re to go to the Rue des Couronnes ... d’you hear? the Rue des Couronnes while _my_ house stands in the Rue de l’Evangile.” “Now I can’t quite follow you, M’sieu Moche.” “That’s because you talk too much, my lad! Shut your trap a bit, and I’ll explain.” “Shut it is, M’sieu Moche.” “Good! well, here’s how it is: The lady has hired my flat; only as I can’t say if she’ll fork out the tin regularly, I should like you to go and have a look what furniture she’s got, to know if it’s good to cover the quarter’s rent.” “Good, M’sieu Moche.” “You twig—do what I tell you without seeming to, eh?” “In that case, I’d want an excuse, eh?” “I never said I couldn’t provide one, did I? Look’ee, my son, search under that green bookcase and you’ll find some patterns of wall-papers ... got ’em?” “Yes.”