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 ?”

“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?”