"Gentle god-father, there is a man down below, with the porter, disguised as a woman. He gave the pass-word, but the porter, not recognizing him, replied that he knew not what he was after with his jargon. Scenting a possible spy, the porter sent his wife up to me on the second floor, to warn me of what had happened."
"Doubtless it is one of our men, obliged to take refuge in disguise," began the Count.
"It is more serious than that," the Bishop dissented. "How are you to make sure he is one of us?"
"A man tricked out as a woman!" exclaimed the Marquis. "Is this carnival time?"
"You know all our people by sight?" asked Morlet of his god-son.
"Yes, dear god-father. When I've seen a person once, I do not forget him. The Lord God," and he crossed himself, "has blessed His little servant with the gift of memory, which he has so much use for."
"Go down to the porter's lodge," returned his dear god-father. "Examine the personage in question. If you recognize him, tell the porter to let him come up. If not, come back and let me know."
"Yes, good god-father, your orders shall be followed to the dot!" responded little Rodin, sliding out of the door, while the Bishop asked, dubiously:
"But may not that child make a mistake? Meseems the errand is poorly entrusted."
"My god-son is a prodigy of cleverness and penetration," returned the Abbot.