“So much the better, my boy,” said M. Fortunat. “I like to see money gained by those who make a good use of it. And to prove this, I’m about to employ you in an affair which will pay you handsomely if you prosecute it successfully.” Chupin’s eyes brightened at first but grew dark a moment afterward, for delight had been quickly followed by a feeling of distrust. He thought it exceedingly strange that an employer should take the trouble to climb to a sixth floor merely for the purpose of conferring a favor on his clerk. There must be something behind all this; and so it behove him to keep his eyes open. However, he knew how to conceal his real feelings; and it was with a joyous air that he exclaimed: “Eh! What? Money? Now? What must I do to earn it?” “Oh! a mere trifle,” replied the agent; “almost nothing, indeed.” And drawing his chair nearer to the bed on which his employee was seated, he added: “But first, one question, Victor. By the way in which a woman looks at a young man in the street, at the theatre or anywhere--would you know if she were watching her son?” Chupin shrugged his shoulders. “What a question!” he retorted. “Nonsense! monsieur, it would be impossible to deceive me. I should only have to remember my mother’s eyes when I return home in the evening. Poor woman! although she’s half blind, she sees me--and if you wish to make her happy, you’ve only to tell her I’m the handsomest and most amiable youth in Paris.” M. Fortunat could not refrain from rubbing his hands, so delighted was he to see his idea so perfectly understood and so admirably expressed. “Good!” he declared; “very good! That’s intelligence, if I am any judge. I have not been deceived in you, Victor.” Victor was on fire with curiosity. “What am I to do, monsieur?” he asked eagerly. “This: you must follow a woman whom I shall point out to you, follow her everywhere without once losing sight of her, and so skilfully as not to let her suspect it. You must watch her every glance, and when her eyes tell you that she is looking at her son, your task will be nearly over. You will then only have to follow this son, and find out his name and address, what he does, and how he lives. I don’t know if I explain what I mean very clearly.” This doubt was awakened in M. Fortunat’s mind by Chupin’s features, which were expressive of lively astonishment and discontent. “Excuse me, monsieur,” he said, at last, “I do not understand at all.” “It’s very simple, however. The lady in question has a son about twenty. I know it--I’m sure of it. But she denies it; she conceals the fact, and he doesn’t even know her. She secretly watches over him, however--she provides him with money, and every day she finds some way of seeing him. Now, it is to my interest to find this son.”