approached him. This exact information, these minute details of all his secret movements, and even thoughts, so upset his mind that he could not think where and how M. Lecoq had obtained them. Finally, he said, humbly: "You must have been looking up this case, patron?" "Probably I have; but I am not infallible, and may have overlooked some important evidence. Take a seat, and tell me all you know." M. Lecoq was not the man to be hoodwinked, so Fanferlot told the exact truth, a rare thing for him to do. However, as he reached the end of his statement, a feeling of mortified vanity prevented his telling how he had been fooled by Gypsy and the stout man. Unfortunately for poor Fanferlot, M. Lecoq was always fully informed on every subject in which he interested himself. "It seems to me, Master Squirrel, that you have forgotten something. How far did you follow the empty coach?" Fanferlot blushed, and hung his head like a guilty school-boy. "Oh, patron!" he cried, "and you know about that too! How could you have----" But a sudden idea flashed across his brain: he stopped short, bounded off his chair, and cried: "Oh! I know now: you were the large 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
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