arge gentleman with red whiskers."

His surprise gave so singular an expression to his face that M. Lecoq
could not restrain a smile.

"Then it was you," continued the bewildered detective; "you were the
large gentleman at whom I stared, so as to impress his appearance upon
my mind, and I never recognized you! Patron, you would make a superb
actor, if you would go on the stage; but I was disguised, too--very well
disguised."

"Very poorly disguised; it is only just to you that I should let you
know what a failure it was, Fanferlot. Do you think that a heavy beard
and a blouse are a sufficient transformation? The eye is the thing to be
changed--the eye! The art lies in being able to change the eye. That is
the secret."

This theory of disguise explained why the lynx-eyed Lecoq never appeared
at the police-office without his gold spectacles.

"Then, patron," said Fanferlot, clinging to his idea, "you have been
more successful than Mme. Alexandre; you have made the little girl
confess? You know why she leaves the Archangel, why she does not wait
for M. de Clameran, and why she bought calico dresses?"

"She is following my advice."

"That being the case," said the detective dejectedly, "there is nothing
left for me to do, but to acknowledge myself an ass."

"No, Squirrel," said M. Lecoq, kindly, "you are not an ass. You
merely did wrong in undertaking a task beyond your capacity. Have you
progressed one step since you started this affair? No. That shows that,
although you are incomparable as a lieutenant, you do not possess the
qualities of a general. I am going to present you with an aphorism;
remember it, and let it be your guide in the future: _A man can shine in
the second rank, who would be totally eclipsed in the first_."

Never had Fanferlot seen his patron so talkative and good-natured.
Finding his deceit discovered, he had expected to be overwhelmed with
a storm of anger; whereas he had escaped with a little shower that had
cooled his brain. Lecoq's anger disappeared like one of those heavy
clouds which threaten in the horizon for a moment, and then are suddenly
swept away by a gust of wind.

But this unexpected affability made Fanferlot feel uneasy. He was afraid
that something might be concealed beneath it.

"Do you know who the thief is, patron?"

"I know no more than you do, Fanferlot; and you seem to have made up
your mind, whereas I am still undecided. You declare the cashier to be
innocent, an