“I heard her voice, General, last night, and I will warrant that if she uttered a word in my hearing, I should recognize it.” “Ah, a voice, my poor fellow, a voice heard for a single moment, uttering a few sentences only. How could one dare to accuse another on such feeble evidence? Do you know, there are voices so similar that one may be mistaken, even when one is familiar with their owners. If you have no other proof to give, my poor Baudoin, you had better say nothing at all.” “We shall see, General.” “Ah, you are obstinate!” “A little, General.” “Well, well! What can I do for you? You have been a good soldier, and a devoted servant. I imagine your master would have recommended me not to abandon you. Would you like to enter the office of the Ministry?” “Thank you, General. M. Baradier has offered to take me into his office, and I have accepted. But if you would be good enough to—” “Well, speak!” “Could you please tell me the name of the Ministerial agent who has been conducting the investigations? He seemed to me a very intelligent man, and I should like to speak to him.” “His name is Laforêt. But keep the name to yourself. I have sufficient confidence to mention it to you; still, it must not be generally known.” “You may rely on my discretion, General. I will say nothing.” “Well, good day!” The Minister shook hands with Baradier and Graff, and rode away in his brougham. When the two partners returned into the hall, Baudoin, to whom they wished to speak, had disappeared. As soon as he learnt the agent’s name, Baudoin had taken his hat, and, leaving the hotel by the servants’ exit, had made his way to the Ministry. On reaching the entrance he made inquiries. Being an old soldier, he knew how to speak to soldiers. The orderly he met in the hall pointed out to him the building he wished to enter, right at the end of the court, staircase C. There the porter had stopped him; no one could enter without authorization. He had none; he must accordingly ask for one. “I simply wanted to speak to M. Laforêt.” The porter looked at him with suspicion. Then he said— “M. Laforêt? You will not find him at the Ministry, call at his private residence.” “Where is that?” “You must inquire.” It was quite evident there was nothing to be gained here. Bowing, he thanked the porter and took his departure. In the Rue Saint-Dominique, at the corner of the Rue Martignac, he noticed a small café. He entered with the object of making inquiries, as the porter had recommended. Four customers, under the complaisant eye of the proprietor, were playing at cards. At the far end was a room, containing a billiard-table. The players could be seen, though indistinctly, each time they passed before the door. There appeared to be spectators present. Probably a pool was being contested. “A bock. Is there a billiard academy here?”