If they went through the marriage ceremony for the good of the mayoralty and the church, it was because they imagined it would, like a baptism, wash out the sins of the past.

Upon this momentous day, Fanferlot gave up his secret intelligence office, and entered the police, where he had already been occasionally employed, and Mme. Alexandre retired from trade.

Uniting their savings, they hired and furnished the “Archangel,” which they were now carrying on prosperously well, esteemed by their neighbors, who were ignorant of Fanferlot’s connection with the police force.

“Why, how late you are, my little man!” she exclaimed, as she dropped her knife and fork, and rushed forward to embrace him.

He received her caresses with an air of abstraction.

“My back is broken,” he said.  “I have been the whole day playing billiards with Evariste, M. Fauvel’s valet, and allowed him to win as often as he wished, a man who does not know what ‘the pool’ is!  I became acquainted with him yesterday, and now I am his best friend.  If I wish to enter M. Fauvel’s service in Antonin’s place, I can rely upon M. Evariste’s good word.”

“What, you be an office messenger? you?”

“Of course I would.  How else am I to get an opportunity of studying my characters, if I am not on the spot to watch them all the time?”

“Then the valet gave you no news?”

“He gave me none that I could make use of, and yet I turned him inside out, like a glove.  This banker is a remarkable man; you don’t often meet with one of his sort nowadays.  Evariste says he has not a single vice, not even a little defect by which his valet could gain ten sous.  He neither smokes, drinks, nor plays; in fact, he is a saint.  He is worth millions, and lives as respectably and quietly as a grocer.  He is devoted to his wife, adores his children, is lavishly hospitable, and seldom goes into society.”

“Then his wife is young?”

“She must be about fifty.”

Mme. Alexandre reflected a minute, then asked: 

“Did you inquire about the other members of the family?”

“Certainly.  The younger son is in the army.  The elder son, Lucien, lives with his parents, and is as proper as a young lady; so good, indeed, that he is stupid.”

“And what about the niece?”

“Evariste could tell me nothing about her.”

Mme. Alexandre shrugged her fat shoulders.

“If you have discovered nothing, it is because there is nothing to be discovered.  Still, do you know what I would do, if I were you?”

“Tell me.”

“I would consult with M. Lecoq.”

Fanferlot jumped up as if he had been shot.

“Now, that’s pretty advice!  Do you want me to lose my place?  M. Lecoq does not suspect that I have anything to do with the case, except to obey his orders.”

“Nobody told you to let him know you were investigating it on your own account.  You can consult him with an air of indifference, as if you were not at all interested; and, after you have got his opinion, you can take advantage of it.”