Meanwhile, Lavenne, when Javotte had taken her departure, set out on the business of dressing himself for the part he was about to perform. In a cupboard opening off his bedroom he had all sorts of disguises, from the dress of an abbé to the rags of a beggar-man. He was a master in the art of disguise, and knew quite well that every profession and station in life has its voice and manner and walk, as well as its dress; that dress, in fact, is only part of the business of disguise, deportment, manner and voice being equally essential, and even perhaps more so. In fifteen minutes, or less, he had converted himself into a perfect representation of a servant out of a place, slightly seedy, and seeking a situation. Then, having glanced round his rooms to see that all was in order, he locked his door, put the key in his pocket and started for the Hôtel de Sartines. Here he received the written character, which had been prepared for him under the name of Jouve, and he started for Camus’ house in the Rue du Trône. It was a large house, decorated in the Italian style, and the _concierge_, who opened to Lavenne’s ring, did not receive him too civilly; but he passed him on to the kitchen premises, and here Lavenne, finding Jumeau, gave him the news of his mother’s mortal illness; and the distress of Jumeau was so well done and so natural, that Lavenne formed a better opinion of his capabilities than he had hitherto held, and made a mental note of the fact, afterwards to be incorporated in a report to de Sartines. Jumeau, having dried his eyes, took Lavenne down a passage and, lighting a candle, drew him into the small bedroom which he occupied, and which was situated immediately beside the plate pantry. Jumeau had not only to clean the plate, but to act as a watchdog at night in case of thieves. When the bedroom door was closed, Lavenne turned to Jumeau: “Have you anything to report?” “No, Monsieur Lavenne, nothing political at all has taken place in the house. Monsieur de Sartines told me to be especially watchful of any friends of Monsieur de Choiseul, or messengers, and to do my utmost to intercept any letter from the Duc. Not a scrap of paper of that description have I seen.” “Well, you have done your duty evidently with care, and I shall note that in my report. I have come to take your place, as you guessed by this; so now take yourself off to the major-domo, get leave of absence to see your mother, and say that your cousin, Charles Jouve, is prepared to take your place, that he is an excellent servant, and has the highest testimonials; then come back here and tell me what he says.” “Yes, Monsieur Lavenne.” “What sort of a man is this major-domo, and what is his name?” “His name is Brujon, Monsieur Lavenne, and he is rather stupid, fond of talk, and very fond of his glass of wine.” “Good! He is a gossip?” “You may say that.” “Well, off you go; and use all your wits, now, so that he may accept me in your place.”