ave you just now a particularly sharp agent?... Shrewd?"

"Yes, Colonel," said de Loubersac, after a moment's reflection.

"Who is he?"

"The man engaged on the V---- affair."

"When shall you see him?"

"This afternoon, Colonel. We have an appointment for three-thirty."

"The worst of it is this affair is making no end of
talk--scandal--it's the very devil and all! Some fools of papers who
deal in scandal are scaring the public with rumours of war: they speak
of the eventual rupture of diplomatic relations. The financial market
is unsteady--the Jews are selling as hard as they can, and that is
disquieting, for those fellows have a quicker scent than any one....
Lieutenant, it is urgent: set your agent to work at once! He must act
with discretion, of course, but he must act as quickly as possible--it
is urgent!"

"And what are the conditions, Colonel?"

After a moment's reflection, Hofferman replied:

"You must make and get the best conditions you can."

* * * * *

It was noon, and twelve was striking. The vast ministerial premises,
where silence had reigned till then, were filled with murmurs and the
sharp sound of voices: there were hurrying footsteps on the stairs,
doors banged: the offices were emptying for a couple or hours.

"Ah, ha!" cried Captain Loreuil, jamming an enormous soft hat down on
his head till it all but covered his eyes. This gave him the
appearance, either of an artist of sorts or of a seller of chestnuts!
Now behold the handsomest cavalier of France and Navarre!...

And he struck up, in a clear voice:

"_Ah, how I would love this cuirassier_
_If I were still a demoiselle._"

Henri de Loubersac, who had just collided with the captain, burst into
laughter, and warmly shook hands with him.

* * * * *

A limited number of people, some curious, others merely idle, were
standing motionless in the Zoological Gardens. They were lining the
palisade which surrounds the rocky basin where half a dozen crocodiles
were performing their evolutions.

Besides children and nursemaids and governesses, there were also
poverty-stricken creatures in rags, some students, a workman or two,
the inevitable telegraph boy who was loitering on the way instead of
hastening onwards with the telegrams, and, noticeably, a fair young
man, smart, in tight-fitting overcoat and wearing a bowler hat. He had
been standing there some ten minut