“He is almost useless,” said Lavenne; “but let us be thankful that he is there. Now let us send at once, and tell him that his mother is dying and that he must come at once; his cousin—that is to say, myself—is ready to take on his duties. As the cousin, I will take the message myself. I have just left the service of Monsieur—shall we say, Monsieur Gaston Le Roux?—he belongs to us. You will send a man round to him at once for a testimonial. The pantry-man’s duty is to look after the plate, to clean it, keep it in order, be responsible for it, and to do a few light duties.” “Very well,” said Beauregard, “all that shall be done.” “And now,” said Lavenne, “I must go and dress for the part, and in an hour, when the testimonial arrives, I will be ready. Let it be dated last month, and let it be for two years’ service. I may not even want it at all; they will be very glad, I should think, to accept Jumeau’s cousin’s service whilst Jumeau is seeing after his sick mother, and so save themselves the trouble of doing without a servant or hunting for one. Still, it is as well to be prepared at all points.” “Yes, you are right,” said Beauregard. “Well, good luck to you.” Lavenne took his departure and hurried round to his rooms in the Rue Picpus. It was now seven o’clock in the evening. It had been a busy day for him, but the work of that day was not over yet. When he arrived at the house in the Rue Picpus, he found someone waiting for him. It was Javotte. “Monsieur,” said Javotte, “when I spoke to you this morning, I did not tell you quite all that I knew about the affairs of Monsieur de Rochefort. There was something I held back, and I would like to tell you it now.” “Come in,” said Lavenne, with a smile. The eternal feminine was the same in his day as ours—that is to say, it might be summed up in the same words: “The animal with a postscript.” CHAPTER III CHOISEUL’S LETTER Lavenne inhabited very modest apartments in the Rue Picpus, a street of that old Paris which, always dying and vanishing, never seems quite to die, which showed the towers of Philip Augustus to the people who lived in the time of Charles V. and the old houses of Louis XI. to the subjects of Louis XV., which shows, even to-day, glimpses of the remotest past in odd corners left unswept by the tide of Time. The room into which he ushered Javotte was as old as the street and house that contained it. Beamed and wainscoted, its only furniture a few chairs, a table, a stove and a number of volumes piled on a shelf, it had, still, a fairly comfortable appearance. Rooms have personalities, and there are some rooms tolerable to live in even when stripped almost bare of furniture, others intolerable, furnish them how you please. Lavenne’s belonged to the first order. He took his seat at the table, pointed out a chair to Javotte, and ordered her in a good-humoured way to be quick with her business, as he had a pressing matter on hand.