“It is just this, patron.  I don’t know what your plans are, or what line you are taking now; but I can just tell you this:  that you will have to wind up the affair pretty quickly.”

“That is your opinion, Master Joseph?”

“Yes, patron, because if you wait any longer, good-by to our covey:  you will certainly find an empty cage, and the birds flown.  You smile?  Yes, I know you are clever, and can accomplish anything; but they are cunning blades, and as slippery as eels.  They know that they are watched, too.”

“The devil they do!” cried M. Verduret.  “Who has been committing blunders?”

“Oh! nobody has done anything wrong,” replied Joseph.  “You know, patron, that they suspected something long ago.  They gave you a proof of it, the night of the fancy ball; that ugly cut on your arm was the beginning.  Ever since, they have had one eye open all the time.  They had begun to feel easier, when all of a sudden, yesterday, ma foi, they began to smell a rat!”

“Was that the cause of your telegrams?”

“Of course.  Now listen:  yesterday morning when my master got up, about ten o’clock, he took it into his head to arrange the papers in his desk; which, by the way, has a disgusting lock which has given me a deal of trouble.  Meanwhile, I pretended to be fixing the fire, so as to remain in the room to watch him.  Patron, the man has an eye like a Yankee!  At the first glance he saw, or rather divined, that his papers had been meddled with, he turned livid, and swore an oath; Lord, what an oath!”

“Never mind the oath; go on.”

“Well, how he discovered the little attentions I had devoted to his letters, I can’t imagine.  You know how careful I am.  I had put everything in perfect order; just as I found things I left them, when, lo and behold! my noble marquis picks up each paper, one at a time, turns it over, and smells it.  I was just thinking I would offer him a magnifying-glass, when all of a sudden he sprang up, and with one kick sent his chair across the room, and flew at me with his eyes flashing like two pistols.  ‘Somebody has been at my papers,’ he shrieked; ’this letter has been photographed!’ B-r-r-r!  I am not a coward, but I can tell you that my heart stood perfectly still; I saw myself as dead as Caesar, cut into mince-meat; and says I to myself, ’Fanfer—­excuse me—­Dubois, my friend, you are lost, dead;’ and I thought of Mme. Alexandre.”

M. Verduret was buried in thought, and paid no attention to the worthy Joseph’s analysis of his personal sensations.

“What happened next?” said Verduret after a few minutes.

“Why, he was just as frightened as I was, patron.  The rascal did not even dare to touch me.  To be sure, I had taken the precaution to get out of his reach; we talked with a large table between us.  While wondering what could have enabled him to discover the secret, I defended myself with virtuous indignation.  I said: