`Very well...but what does he want.

`I don't know; I never saw him in such a state.'

`He can come in.'

M. Lachenel came in, carrying a riding-whip, with which he struck his right boot in an irritable manner.

`Good morning, M. Lachenel,' said Richard, somewhat impressed. `To what do we owe the honor of your visit?'

`Mr. Manager, I have come to ask you to get rid of the whole stable.'

`What, you want to get rid of our horses?'

`I'm not talking of the horses, but of the stablemen.'

`How many stablemen have you, M. Lachenel?'

`Six stablemen! That's at least two too many.'

`These are `places,'' Mercier interposed, `created and forced upon us by the under-secretary for fine arts. They are filled by protégées of the government and, if I may venture to...'

`I don't care a hang for the government!' roared Richard. `We don't need more than four stablemen for twelve horses.'

`Eleven,' said the head riding-master, correcting him.

`Twelve,' repeated Richard.

`Eleven,' repeated Lachenel.

`Oh, the acting-manager told me that you had twelve horses!'

`I did have twelve, but I have only eleven since César was stolen.'

And M. Lachenel gave himself a great smack on the boot with his whip.

`Has César been stolen?' cried the acting-manager. `César, the white horse in the Profeta?' xx `There are not two Césars,' said the stud-groom dryly. `I was ten years at Franconi's and I have seen plenty of horses in my time. Well, there are not two Césars. And he's been stolen.'

`How?'

`I don't know. Nobody knows. That's why I have come to ask you to sack the whole stable.'

`What do your stablemen say?'

`All sorts of nonsense. Some of them accuse the supers. Others pretend that it's the acting-manager's doorkeeper...'

`My doorkeeper? I'll answer for him as I would for myself!' protested Mercier.

`But, after all, M. Lachenel,' cried Richard, `you must have some idea.'