again!" thought Fandor. "Decidedly there is
business afoot to-night!"

His guide expanded.

"In Paris they despise provincial industries! They pretend to believe
that no good work is done--can be done--in country districts.... It is
a mistaken notion! Examine our machines!"

The red-bearded young man ushered Fandor into the workshops. They were
extensive, spacious.

"Here is the machine which prints off _The Beacon of Verdun_!" he
explained. "You can see for yourself that it is the latest model! Do
you know anything about the working of these machines?"

Fandor could hardly restrain his laughter.

"What would this guide of mine think if he knew that for a good many
years I have had to cross the machine-room of _La Capitale_ every
evening, and consequently have been able to see and admire printing
machines of a very different quality of perfection to this one he has
praised so emphatically?"

Fandor-Vinson played up.

"It seems to me a marvellous machine! I should like to see it
working!"

The red-bearded young man smiled.

"Come here some afternoon, and I will show you the machine in full
work!... Come soon!"

He led Fandor to another part of the printing-room.

"Do you know anything about linotypes?"

Again Fandor-Vinson played the admirer's part, though he knew these
machines were out-of-date.

"What is his game?" was our journalist's mental query.

The answer soon came. His guide led him to a strange-looking object
concealed by some grey material. It might well be a cabinet for
storing odds and ends, but Fandor felt sure the grey stuff covered
something metallic.

"See, Corporal, this will please you!" said the red-bearded young man.
He uncovered the object.

"You know what it is, do you, Corporal?"

"Not in the least!"

"A machine for making bank-notes!"

"Really! You manufacture bank-notes, do you?" remarked Fandor. His
tone was non-committal.

"You shall see for yourself, Corporal! Of course they are only made
for the fun of the thing--still, they might happen to prove
useful--one never knows!"

Again the marked accent on "useful."

Again Fandor-Vinson played up.

"I should like to have a squint at those holy-joke notes!"

"I was going to suggest it!"

Turning a handle, the red-bearded young man put the machine in motion.

"Place yourself there, Corporal! Put your hands to it! You shall see
what will happen!"

Fandor did as directed.

"Hold out your hands!"

Fandor-Vinso