ARSENE LUPIN

BY

EDGAR JEPSON AND MAURICE LEBLANC

Frontispiece by H. Richard Boehm

CONTENTS

 I. THE MILLIONAIRE'S DAUGHTER II. THE COMING OF THE CHAROLAIS III. LUPIN'S WAY IV. THE DUKE INTERVENES V. A LETTER FROM LUPIN VI. AGAIN THE CHAROLAIS VII. THE THEFT OF THE MOTOR-CARS VIII. THE DUKE ARRIVES IX. M. FORMERY OPENS THE INQUIRY X. GUERCHARD ASSISTS XI. THE FAMILY ARRIVES XII. THE THEFT OF THE PENDANT XIII. LUPIN WIRES XIV. GUERCHARD PICKS UP THE TRUE SCENT XV. THE EXAMINATION OF SONIA XVI. VICTOIRE'S SLIP XVII. SONIA'S ESCAPE XVIII. THE DUKE STAYS XIX. THE DUKE GOES XX. LUPIN COMES HOME XXI. THE CUTTING OF THE TELEPHONE WIRES XII. THE BARGAIN XXIII. THE END OF THE DUEL

ARSENE LUPIN

CHAPTER I

THE MILLIONAIRE'S DAUGHTER

The rays of the September sun flooded the great halls of the oldchateau of the Dukes of Charmerace, lighting up with their mellow glowthe spoils of so many ages and many lands, jumbled together with theexecrable taste which so often afflicts those whose only standard ofvalue is money. The golden light warmed the panelled walls and oldfurniture to a dull lustre, and gave back to the fading gilt of theFirst Empire chairs and couches something of its old brightness. Itillumined the long line of pictures on the walls, pictures of dead andgone Charmeraces, the stern or debonair faces of the men, soldiers, statesmen, dandies, the gentle or imperious faces of beautiful women. It flashed back from armour of brightly polished steel, and drew dullgleams from armour of bronze. The hues of rare porcelain, of the richinlays of Oriental or Renaissance cabinets, mingled with the hues ofthe pictures, the tapestry, the Persian rugs about the polished floorto fill the hall with a rich glow of colour. 

But of all the beautiful and precious things which the sun-rays warmedto a clearer beauty, the face of the girl who sat writing at a table infront of the long windows, which opened on to the centuries-old turf ofthe broad terrace, was the most beautiful and the most precious. 

It was a delicate, almost frail, beauty. Her skin was clear with thetransparent lustre of old porcelain, and her pale cheeks were onlytinted with the pink of the faintest roses. Her straight nose wasdelicately cut, her rounded chin admirably moulded. A lover of beautywould have been at a loss whether more to admire her clear, germandereyes, so melting and so adorable, or the sensitive mouth, with itsrather full lips, inviting all the kisses. But assuredly he would havebeen grieved by the perpetual air of sadness which rested on thebeautiful face--the wistful melancholy of the Slav, deepened bysomething of personal misfortune and suffering. 

Her face was framed by a mass of soft fair hair, shot with strands ofgold where the sunlight fell on it; and little curls, rebellious to thecomb, strayed over her white forehead, tiny feathers of gold. 

She was addressing envelopes, and a long list of names lay on her lefthand. When she had addressed an envelope, she slipped into it awedding-card. On each was printed:

 "M. Gournay-Martin has the honour to inform you of the marriage of his daughter Germaine to the Duke of Charmerace. "

She wrote steadily on, adding envelope after envelope to the pile readyfor the post, which rose in front of her. But now and again, when theflushed and laughing girls who were playing lawn-tennis on the terrace, raised their voices higher than usual as they called the score, anddistracted her attention from her work, her gaze strayed through theopen window and lingered on them wistfully; and as her eyes came backto her task she sighed with so faint a wistfulness that she hardly knewshe sighed. Then a voice from the terrace cried, "Sonia! Sonia!"

"Yes. Mlle. Germaine?" answered the writing girl. 

"Tea! Order tea, will you?" cried the voice, a petulant voice, ratherharsh to the ear. 

"Very well, Mlle. Germaine, " said Sonia; and having finished addressingthe envelope under her pen, she laid it on the pile ready to be posted, and, crossing the room to the old, wide fireplace, she rang the bell. 

She stood by the fireplace a moment, restoring to its place a rosewhich had fallen from a vase on the mantelpiece; and her attitude, aswith arms upraised she arranged the flowers, displayed the delightfulline of a slender figure. As she let fall her arms to her side, afootman entered the room. 

"Will you please bring the tea, Alfred, " she said in a charming voiceof that pure, bell-like tone which has been Nature's most precious giftto but a few of the greatest actresses. 

"For how many, miss?" said Alfred. 

"For four--unless your master has come back. "

"Oh, no; he's not back yet, miss. He went in the car to Rennes tolunch; and it's a good many miles away. He won't be back for anotherhour. "

"And the Duke--he's not back from his ride yet, is he?"

"Not yet, miss, " said Alfred, turning to go. 

"One moment, " said Sonia. "Have all of you got your things packed forthe journey to Paris? You will have to start soon, you know. Are allthe maids ready?"

"Well, all the men are ready, I know, miss. But about the maids, miss, I can't say. They've been bustling about all day; but it takes themlonger than it does us. "

"Tell them to hurry up; and be as quick as you can with the tea, please, " said Sonia. 

Alfred went out of the room; Sonia went back to the writing-table. Shedid not take up her pen; she took up one of the wedding-cards; and herlips moved slowly as she read it in a pondering depression. 

The petulant, imperious voice broke in upon her musing. 

"Whatever are you doing, Sonia? Aren't you getting on with thoseletters?" it cried angrily; and Germaine Gournay-Martin came throughthe long window into the hall. 

The heiress to the Gournay-Martin millions carried her tennis racquetin her hand; and her rosy cheeks were flushed redder than ever by thegame. She was a pretty girl in a striking, high-coloured, ratherobvious way--the very foil to Sonia's delicate beauty. Her lips were alittle too thin, her eyes too shallow; and together they gave her arather hard air, in strongest contrast to the gentle, sympathetic faceof Sonia. 

The two friends with whom Germaine had been playing tennis followed herinto the hall: Jeanne Gautier, tall, sallow, dark, with a somewhatmalicious air; Marie Bullier, short, round, commonplace, andsentimental. 

They came to the table at which Sonia was at work; and pointing to thepile of envelopes, Marie said, "Are these all wedding-cards?"

"Yes; and we've only got to the letter V, " said Germaine, frowning atSonia. 

"Princesse de Vernan--Duchesse de Vauvieuse--Marquess--Marchioness?You've invited the whole Faubourg Saint-Germain, " said Marie, shufflingthe pile of envelopes with an envious air. 

"You'll know very few people at your wedding, " said Jeanne, with aspiteful little giggle. 

"I beg your pardon, my dear, " said Germaine boastfully. "Madame deRelzieres, my fiance's cousin, gave an At Home the other day in myhonour. At it she introduced half Paris to me--the Paris I'm destinedto know, the Paris you'll see in my drawing-rooms. "

"But we shall no longer be fit friends for you when you're the Duchessof Charmerace, " said Jeanne. 

"Why?" said Germaine; and then she added quickly, "Above everything, Sonia, don't forget Veauleglise, 33, University Street--33, UniversityStreet. "

"Veauleglise--33, University Street, " said Sonia, taking a freshenvelope, and beginning to address it. 

"Wait--wait! don't close the envelope. I'm wondering whetherVeauleglise ought to have a cross, a double cross, or a triple cross, "said Germaine, with an air of extreme importance. 

"What's that?" cried Marie and Jeanne together. 

"A single cross means an invitation to the church, a double cross aninvitation to the marriage and the wedding-breakfast, and the triplecross means an invitation to the marriage, the breakfast, and thesigning of the marriage-contract. What do you think the Duchess ofVeauleglise ought to have?"

"Don't ask me. I haven't the honour of knowing that great lady, " criedJeanne. 

"Nor I, " said Marie. 

"Nor I, " said Germaine. "But I have here the visiting-list of the lateDuchess of Charmerace, Jacques' mother. The two duchesses were onexcellent terms. Besides the Duchess of Veauleglise is rather worn-out, but greatly admired for her piety. She goes to early service threetimes a week. "

"Then put three crosses, " said Jeanne. 

"I shouldn't, " said Marie quickly. "In your place, my dear, I shouldn'trisk a slip. I should ask my fiance's advice. He knows this world. "

"Oh, goodness--my fiance! He doesn't care a rap about this kind ofthing. He has changed so in the last seven years. Seven years ago hetook nothing seriously. Why, he set off on an expedition to the SouthPole--just to show off. Oh, in those days he was truly a duke. "

"And to-day?" said Jeanne. 

"Oh, to-day he's a regular slow-coach. Society gets on his nerves. He'sas sober as a judge, " said Germaine. 

"He's as gay as a lark, " said Sonia, in sudden protest. 

Germaine pouted at her, and said: "Oh, he's gay enough when he's makingfun of people. But apart from that he's as sober as a judge. "

"Your father must be delighted with the change, " said Jeanne. 

"Naturally he's delighted. Why, he's lunching at Rennes to-day with theMinister, with the sole object of getting Jacques decorated. "

"Well; the Legion of Honour is a fine thing to have, " said Marie. 

"My dear! The Legion of Honour is all very well for middle-classpeople, but it's quite out of place for a duke!" cried Germaine. 

Alfred came in, bearing the tea-tray, and set it on a little table nearthat at which Sonia was sitting. 

Germaine, who was feeling too important to sit still, was walking upand down the room. Suddenly she stopped short, and pointing to a silverstatuette which stood on the piano, she said, "What's this? Why is thisstatuette here?"

"Why, when we came in, it was on the cabinet, in its usual place, " saidSonia in some astonishment. 

"Did you come into the hall while we were out in the garden, Alfred?"said Germaine to the footman. 

"No, miss, " said Alfred. 

"But some one must have come into it, " Germaine persisted. 

"I've not heard any one. I was in my pantry, " said Alfred. 

"It's very odd, " said Germaine. 

"It is odd, " said Sonia. "Statuettes don't move about of themselves. "

All of them stared at the statuette as if they expected it to moveagain forthwith, under their very eyes. Then Alfred put it back in itsusual place on one of the cabinets, and went out of the room. 

Sonia poured out the tea; and over it they babbled about the comingmarriage, the frocks they would wear at it, and the presents Germainehad already received. That reminded her to ask Sonia if any one had yettelephoned from her father's house in Paris; and Sonia said that no onehad. 

"That's very annoying, " said Germaine. "It shows that nobody has sentme a present to-day. "

Pouting, she shrugged her shoulders with an air of a spoiled child, which sat but poorly on a well-developed young woman of twenty-three. 

"It's Sunday. The shops don't deliver things on Sunday, " said Soniagently. 

But Germaine still pouted like a spoiled child. 

"Isn't your beautiful Duke coming to have tea with us?" said Jeanne alittle anxiously. 

"Oh, yes; I'm expecting him at half-past four. He had to go for a ridewith the two Du Buits. They're coming to tea here, too, " said Germaine. 

"Gone for a ride with the two Du Buits? But when?" cried Marie quickly. 

"This afternoon. "

"He can't be, " said Marie. "My brother went to the Du Buits' houseafter lunch, to see Andre and Georges. They went for a drive thismorning, and won't be back till late to-night. "

"Well, but--but why did the Duke tell me so?" said Germaine, knittingher brow with a puzzled air. 

"If I were you, I should inquire into this thoroughly. Dukes--well, weknow what dukes are--it will be just as well to keep an eye on him, "said Jeanne maliciously. 

Germaine flushed quickly; and her eyes flashed. "Thank you. I haveevery confidence in Jacques. I am absolutely sure of him, " she saidangrily. 

"Oh, well--if you're sure, it's all right, " said Jeanne. 

The ringing of the telephone-bell made a fortunate diversion. 

Germaine rushed to it, clapped the receiver to her ear, and cried:"Hello, is that you, Pierre? . . . Oh, it's Victoire, is it? . . . Ah, somepresents have come, have they? . . . Well, well, what are they? . . . What!a paper-knife--another paper-knife! . . . Another Louis XVI. Inkstand--oh, bother! . . . Who are they from? . . . Oh, from the CountessRudolph and the Baron de Valery. " Her voice rose high, thrilling withpride. 

Then she turned her face to her friends, with the receiver still at herear, and cried: "Oh, girls, a pearl necklace too! A large one! Thepearls are big ones!"

"How jolly!" said Marie. 

"Who sent it?" said Germaine, turning to the telephone again. "Oh, afriend of papa's, " she added in a tone of disappointment. "Never mind, after all it's a pearl necklace. You'll be sure and lock the doorscarefully, Victoire, won't you? And lock up the necklace in the secretcupboard. . . . Yes; thanks very much, Victoire. I shall see youto-morrow. "

She hung up the receiver, and came away from the telephone frowning. 

"It's preposterous!" she said pettishly. "Papa's friends and relationsgive me marvellous presents, and all the swells send me paper-knives. It's all Jacques' fault. He's above all this kind of thing. TheFaubourg Saint-Germain hardly knows that we're engaged. "

"He doesn't go about advertising it, " said Jeanne, smiling. 

"You're joking, but all the same what you say is true, " said Germaine. "That's exactly what his cousin Madame de Relzieres said to me theother day at the At Home she gave in my honour--wasn't it, Sonia?" Andshe walked to the window, and, turning her back on them, stared out ofit. 

"She HAS got her mouth full of that At Home, " said Jeanne to Marie in alow voice. 

There was an awkward silence. Marie broke it:

"Speaking of Madame de Relzieres, do you know that she is on pins andneedles with anxiety? Her son is fighting a duel to-day, " she said. 

"With whom?" said Sonia. 

"No one knows. She got hold of a letter from the seconds, " said Marie. 

"My mind is quite at rest about Relzieres, " said Germaine. "He's afirst-class swordsman. No one could beat him. "

Sonia did not seem to share her freedom from anxiety. Her forehead waspuckered in little lines of perplexity, as if she were puzzling outsome problem; and there was a look of something very like fear in hergentle eyes. 

"Wasn't Relzieres a great friend of your fiance at one time?" saidJeanne. 

"A great friend? I should think he was, " said Germaine. "Why, it wasthrough Relzieres that we got to know Jacques. "

"Where was that?" said Marie. 

"Here--in this very chateau, " said Germaine. 

"Actually in his own house?" said Marie, in some surprise. 

"Yes; actually here. Isn't life funny?" said Germaine. "If, a fewmonths after his father's death, Jacques had not found himself hard-up, and obliged to dispose of this chateau, to raise the money for hisexpedition to the South Pole; and if papa and I had not wanted anhistoric chateau; and lastly, if papa had not suffered from rheumatism, I should not be calling myself in a month from now the Duchess ofCharmerace. "

"Now what on earth has your father's rheumatism got to do with yourbeing Duchess of Charmerace?" cried Jeanne. 

"Everything, " said Germaine. "Papa was afraid that this chateau wasdamp. To prove to papa that he had nothing to fear, Jacques, en grandseigneur, offered him his hospitality, here, at Charmerace, for threeweeks. "

"That was truly ducal, " said Marie. 

"But he is always like that, " said Sonia. 

"Oh, he's all right in that way, little as he cares about society, "said Germaine. "Well, by a miracle my father got cured of hisrheumatism here. Jacques fell in love with me; papa made up his mind tobuy the chateau; and I demanded the hand of Jacques in marriage. "

"You did? But you were only sixteen then, " said Marie, with somesurprise. 

"Yes; but even at sixteen a girl ought to know that a duke is a duke. Idid, " said Germaine. "Then since Jacques was setting out for the SouthPole, and papa considered me much too young to get married, I promisedJacques to wait for his return. "

"Why, it was everything that's romantic!" cried Marie. 

"Romantic? Oh, yes, " said Germaine; and she pouted. "But betweenourselves, if I'd known that he was going to stay all that time at theSouth Pole--"

"That's true, " broke in Marie. "To go away for three years and stayaway seven--at the end of the world. "

"All Germaine's beautiful youth, " said Jeanne, with her malicious smile. 

"Thanks!" said Germaine tartly. 

"Well, you ARE twenty-three. It's the flower of one's age, " said Jeanne. 

"Not quite twenty-three, " said Germaine hastily. "And look at thewretched luck I've had. The Duke falls ill and is treated atMontevideo. As soon as he recovers, since he's the most obstinateperson in the world, he resolves to go on with the expedition. He setsout; and for an age, without a word of warning, there's no more news ofhim--no news of any kind. For six months, you know, we believed himdead. "

"Dead? Oh, how unhappy you must have been!" said Sonia. 

"Oh, don't speak of it! For six months I daren't put on a light frock, "said Germaine, turning to her. 

"A lot she must have cared for him, " whispered Jeanne to Marie. 

"Fortunately, one fine day, the letters began again. Three months ago atelegram informed us that he was coming back; and at last the Dukereturned, " said Germaine, with a theatrical air. 

"The Duke returned, " cried Jeanne, mimicking her. 

"Never mind. Fancy waiting nearly seven years for one's fiance. Thatwas constancy, " said Sonia. 

"Oh, you're a sentimentalist, Mlle. Kritchnoff, " said Jeanne, in a toneof mockery. "It was the influence of the castle. "

"What do you mean?" said Germaine. 

"Oh, to own the castle of Charmerace and call oneself Mlle. Gournay-Martin--it's not worth doing. One MUST become a duchess, " saidJeanne. 

"Yes, yes; and for all this wonderful constancy, seven years of it, Germaine was on the point of becoming engaged to another man, " saidMarie, smiling. 

"And he a mere baron, " said Jeanne, laughing. 

"What? Is that true?" said Sonia. 

"Didn't you know, Mlle. Kritchnoff? She nearly became engaged to theDuke's cousin, the Baron de Relzieres. It was not nearly so grand. "

"Oh, it's all very well to laugh at me; but being the cousin and heirof the Duke, Relzieres would have assumed the title, and I should havebeen Duchess just the same, " said Germaine triumphantly. 

"Evidently that was all that mattered, " said Jeanne. "Well, dear, Imust be off. We've promised to run in to see the Comtesse de Grosjean. You know the Comtesse de Grosjean?"

She spoke with an air of careless pride, and rose to go. 

"Only by name. Papa used to know her husband on the Stock Exchange whenhe was still called simply M. Grosjean. For his part, papa preferred tokeep his name intact, " said Germaine, with quiet pride. 

"Intact? That's one way of looking at it. Well, then, I'll see you inParis. You still intend to start to-morrow?" said Jeanne. 

"Yes; to-morrow morning, " said Germaine. 

Jeanne and Marie slipped on their dust-coats to the accompaniment ofchattering and kissing, and went out of the room. 

As she closed the door on them, Germaine turned to Sonia, and said: "Ido hate those two girls! They're such horrible snobs. "

"Oh, they're good-natured enough, " said Sonia. 

"Good-natured? Why, you idiot, they're just bursting with envy ofme--bursting!" said Germaine. "Well, they've every reason to be, " sheadded confidently, surveying herself in a Venetian mirror with a pettedchild's self-content. 

CHAPTER II

THE COMING OF THE CHAROLAIS

Sonia went back to her table, and once more began putting wedding-cardsin their envelopes and addressing them. Germaine moved restlessly aboutthe room, fidgeting with the bric-a-brac on the cabinets, shifting thepieces about, interrupting Sonia to ask whether she preferred thisarrangement or that, throwing herself into a chair to read a magazine, getting up in a couple of minutes to straighten a picture on the wall, throwing out all the while idle questions not worth answering. Ninety-nine human beings would have been irritated to exasperation byher fidgeting; Sonia endured it with a perfect patience. Five timesGermaine asked her whether she should wear her heliotrope or her pinkgown at a forthcoming dinner at Madame de Relzieres'. Five times Soniasaid, without the slightest variation in her tone, "I think you lookbetter in the pink. " And all the while the pile of addressed envelopesrose steadily. 

Presently the door opened, and Alfred stood on the threshold. 

"Two gentlemen have called to see you, miss, " he said. 

"Ah, the two Du Buits, " cried Germaine. 

"They didn't give their names, miss. "

"A gentleman in the prime of life and a younger one?" said Germaine. 

"Yes, miss. "

"I thought so. Show them in. "

"Yes, miss. And have you any orders for me to give Victoire when we getto Paris?" said Alfred. 

"No. Are you starting soon?"

"Yes, miss. We're all going by the seven o'clock train. It's a long wayfrom here to Paris; we shall only reach it at nine in the morning. Thatwill give us just time to get the house ready for you by the time youget there to-morrow evening, " said Alfred. 

"Is everything packed?"

"Yes, miss--everything. The cart has already taken the heavy luggage tothe station. All you'll have to do is to see after your bags. "

"That's all right. Show M. Du Buit and his brother in, " said Germaine. 

She moved to a chair near the window, and disposed herself in anattitude of studied, and obviously studied, grace. 

As she leant her head at a charming angle back against the tall back ofthe chair, her eyes fell on the window, and they opened wide. 

"Why, whatever's this?" she cried, pointing to it. 

"Whatever's what?" said Sonia, without raising her eyes from theenvelope she was addressing. 

"Why, the window. Look! one of the panes has been taken out. It looksas if it had been cut. "

"So it has--just at the level of the fastening, " said Sonia. And thetwo girls stared at the gap. 

"Haven't you noticed it before?" said Germaine. 

"No; the broken glass must have fallen outside, " said Sonia. 

The noise of the opening of the door drew their attention from thewindow. Two figures were advancing towards them--a short, round, tubbyman of fifty-five, red-faced, bald, with bright grey eyes, which seemedto be continually dancing away from meeting the eyes of any other humanbeing. Behind him came a slim young man, dark and grave. For all thedifference in their colouring, it was clear that they were father andson: their eyes were set so close together. The son seemed to haveinherited, along with her black eyes, his mother's nose, thin andaquiline; the nose of the father started thin from the brow, but endedin a scarlet bulb eloquent of an exhaustive acquaintance with thevintages of the world. 

Germaine rose, looking at them with an air of some surprise anduncertainty: these were not her friends, the Du Buits. 

The elder man, advancing with a smiling bonhomie, bowed, and said in anadenoid voice, ingratiating of tone: "I'm M. Charolais, youngladies--M. Charolais--retired brewer--chevalier of the Legion ofHonour--landowner at Rennes. Let me introduce my son. " The young manbowed awkwardly. "We came from Rennes this morning, and we lunched atKerlor's farm. "

"Shall I order tea for them?" whispered Sonia. 

"Gracious, no!" said Germaine sharply under her breath; then, louder, she said to M. Charolais, "And what is your object in calling?"

"We asked to see your father, " said M. Charolais, smiling with broadamiability, while his eyes danced across her face, avoiding any meetingwith hers. "The footman told us that M. Gournay-Martin was out, butthat his daughter was at home. And we were unable, quite unable, todeny ourselves the pleasure of meeting you. " With that he sat down; andhis son followed his example. 

Sonia and Germaine, taken aback, looked at one another in someperplexity. 

"What a fine chateau, papa!" said the young man. 

"Yes, my boy; it's a very fine chateau, " said M. Charolais, lookinground the hall with appreciative but greedy eyes. 

There was a pause. 

"It's a very fine chateau, young ladies, " said M. Charolais. 

"Yes; but excuse me, what is it you have called about?" said Germaine. 

M. Charolais crossed his legs, leant back in his chair, thrust histhumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and said: "Well, we've comeabout the advertisement we saw in the RENNES ADVERTISER, that M. Gournay-Martin wanted to get rid of a motor-car; and my son is alwayssaying to me, 'I should like a motor-car which rushes the hills, papa. 'He means a sixty horse-power. "

"We've got a sixty horse-power; but it's not for sale. My father iseven using it himself to-day, " said Germaine. 

"Perhaps it's the car we saw in the stable-yard, " said M. Charolais. 

"No; that's a thirty to forty horse-power. It belongs to me. But ifyour son really loves rushing hills, as you say, we have a hundredhorse-power car which my father wants to get rid of. Wait; where's thephotograph of it, Sonia? It ought to be here somewhere. "

The two girls rose, went to a table set against the wall beyond thewindow, and began turning over the papers with which it was loaded inthe search for the photograph. They had barely turned their backs, whenthe hand of young Charolais shot out as swiftly as the tongue of alizard catching a fly, closed round the silver statuette on the top ofthe cabinet beside him, and flashed it into his jacket pocket. 

Charolais was watching the two girls; one would have said that he hadeyes for nothing else, yet, without moving a muscle of his face, set inits perpetual beaming smile, he hissed in an angry whisper, "Drop it, you idiot! Put it back!"

The young man scowled askance at him. 

"Curse you! Put it back!" hissed Charolais. 

The young man's arm shot out with the same quickness, and the statuettestood in its place. 

There was just the faintest sigh of relief from Charolais, as Germaineturned and came to him with the photograph in her hand. She gave it tohim. 

"Ah, here we are, " he said, putting on a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez. "A hundred horse-power car. Well, well, this is something to talk over. What's the least you'll take for it?"

"_I_ have nothing to do with this kind of thing, " cried Germaine. "Youmust see my father. He will be back from Rennes soon. Then you cansettle the matter with him. "

M. Charolais rose, and said: "Very good. We will go now, and come backpresently. I'm sorry to have intruded on you, young ladies--taking upyour time like this--"

"Not at all--not at all, " murmured Germaine politely. 

"Good-bye--good-bye, " said M. Charolais; and he and his son went to thedoor, and bowed themselves out. 

"What creatures!" said Germaine, going to the window, as the doorclosed behind the two visitors. "All the same, if they do buy thehundred horse-power, papa will be awfully pleased. It is odd about thatpane. I wonder how it happened. It's odd too that Jacques hasn't comeback yet. He told me that he would be here between half-past four andfive. "

"And the Du Buits have not come either, " said Sonia. "But it's hardlyfive yet. "

"Yes; that's so. The Du Buits have not come either. What on earth areyou wasting your time for?" she added sharply, raising her voice. "Justfinish addressing those letters while you're waiting. "

"They're nearly finished, " said Sonia. 

"Nearly isn't quite. Get on with them, can't you!" snapped Germaine. 

Sonia went back to the writing-table; just the slightest deepening ofthe faint pink roses in her cheeks marked her sense of Germaine'srudeness. After three years as companion to Germaine Gournay-Martin, she was well inured to millionaire manners; they had almost lost thepower to move her. 

Germaine dropped into a chair for twenty seconds; then flung out of it. 

"Ten minutes to five!" she cried. "Jacques is late. It's the first timeI've ever known him late. "

She went to the window, and looked across the wide stretch ofmeadow-land and woodland on which the chateau, set on the very crown ofthe ridge, looked down. The road, running with the irritatingstraightness of so many of the roads of France, was visible for a fullthree miles. It was empty. 

"Perhaps the Duke went to the Chateau de Relzieres to see hiscousin--though I fancy that at bottom the Duke does not care very muchfor the Baron de Relzieres. They always look as though they detestedone another, " said Sonia, without raising her eyes from the letter shewas addressing. 

"You've noticed that, have you?" said Germaine. "Now, as far as Jacquesis concerned--he's--he's so indifferent. None the less, when we were atthe Relzieres on Thursday, I caught him quarrelling with Paul deRelzieres. "

"Quarrelling?" said Sonia sharply, with a sudden uneasiness in air andeyes and voice. 

"Yes; quarrelling. And they said good-bye to one another in the oddestway. "

"But surely they shook hands?" said Sonia. 

"Not a bit of it. They bowed as if each of them had swallowed a poker. "

"Why--then--then--" said Sonia, starting up with a frightened air; andher voice stuck in her throat. 

"Then what?" said Germaine, a little startled by her panic-strickenface. 

"The duel! Monsieur de Relzieres' duel!" cried Sonia. 

"What? You don't think it was with Jacques?"

"I don't know--but this quarrel--the Duke's manner this morning--the DuBuits' drive--" said Sonia. 

"Of course--of course! It's quite possible--in fact it's certain!"cried Germaine. 

"It's horrible!" gasped Sonia. "Consider--just consider! Supposesomething happened to him. Suppose the Duke--"

"It's me the Duke's fighting about!" cried Germaine proudly, with alittle skipping jump of triumphant joy. 

Sonia stared through her without seeing her. Her face was a deadwhite--fear had chilled the lustre from her skin; her breath pantedthrough her parted lips; and her dilated eyes seemed to look on somedreadful picture. 

Germaine pirouetted about the hall at the very height of triumph. Tohave a Duke fighting a duel about her was far beyond the wildest dreamsof snobbishness. She chuckled again and again, and once she clapped herhands and laughed aloud. 

"He's fighting a swordsman of the first class--an invincibleswordsman--you said so yourself, " Sonia muttered in a tone of anguish. "And there's nothing to be done--nothing. "

She pressed her hands to her eyes as if to shut out a hideous vision. 

Germaine did not hear her; she was staring at herself in a mirror, andbridling to her own image. 

Sonia tottered to the window and stared down at the road along whichmust come the tidings of weal or irremediable woe. She kept passing herhand over her eyes as if to clear their vision. 

Suddenly she started, and bent forward, rigid, all her beingconcentrated in the effort to see. 

Then she cried: "Mademoiselle Germaine! Look! Look!"

"What is it?" said Germaine, coming to her side. 

"A horseman! Look! There!" said Sonia, waving a hand towards the road. 

"Yes; and isn't he galloping!" said Germaine. 

"It's he! It's the Duke!" cried Sonia. 

"Do you think so?" said Germaine doubtfully. 

"I'm sure of it--sure!"

"Well, he gets here just in time for tea, " said Germaine in a tone ofextreme satisfaction. "He knows that I hate to be kept waiting. He saidto me, 'I shall be back by five at the latest. ' And here he is. "

"It's impossible, " said Sonia. "He has to go all the way round thepark. There's no direct road; the brook is between us. "

"All the same, he's coming in a straight line, " said Germaine. 

It was true. The horseman had left the road and was galloping acrossthe meadows straight for the brook. In twenty seconds he reached itstreacherous bank, and as he set his horse at it, Sonia covered her eyes. 

"He's over!" said Germaine. "My father gave three hundred guineas forthat horse. "

CHAPTER III

LUPIN'S WAY

Sonia, in a sudden revulsion of feeling, in a reaction from her fears, slipped back and sat down at the tea-table, panting quickly, strugglingto keep back the tears of relief. She did not see the Duke gallop upthe slope, dismount, and hand over his horse to the groom who camerunning to him. There was still a mist in her eyes to blur his figureas he came through the window. 

"If it's for me, plenty of tea, very little cream, and three lumps ofsugar, " he cried in a gay, ringing voice, and pulled out his watch. "Five to the minute--that's all right. " And he bent down, tookGermaine's hand, and kissed it with an air of gallant devotion. 

If he had indeed just fought a duel, there were no signs of it in hisbearing. His air, his voice, were entirely careless. He was a man whosewhole thought at the moment was fixed on his tea and his punctuality. 

He drew a chair near the tea-table for Germaine; sat down himself; andSonia handed him a cup of tea with so shaky a hand that the spoonclinked in the saucer. 

"You've been fighting a duel?" said Germaine. 

"What! You've heard already?" said the Duke in some surprise. 

"I've heard, " said Germaine. "Why did you fight it?"

"You're not wounded, your Grace?" said Sonia anxiously. 

"Not a scratch, " said the Duke, smiling at her. 

"Will you be so good as to get on with those wedding-cards, Sonia, "said Germaine sharply; and Sonia went back to the writing-table. 

Turning to the Duke, Germaine said, "Did you fight on my account?"

"Would you be pleased to know that I had fought on your account?" saidthe Duke; and there was a faint mocking light in his eyes, far toofaint for the self-satisfied Germaine to perceive. 

"Yes. But it isn't true. You've been fighting about some woman, " saidGermaine petulantly. 

"If I had been fighting about a woman, it could only be you, " said theDuke. 

"Yes, that is so. Of course. It could hardly be about Sonia, or mymaid, " said Germaine. "But what was the reason of the duel?"

"Oh, the reason of it was entirely childish, " said the Duke. "I was ina bad temper; and De Relzieres said something that annoyed me. "

"Then it wasn't about me; and if it wasn't about me, it wasn't reallyworth while fighting, " said Germaine in a tone of acute disappointment. 

The mocking light deepened a little in the Duke's eyes. 

"Yes. But if I had been killed, everybody would have said, 'The Duke ofCharmerace has been killed in a duel about MademoiselleGournay-Martin. ' That would have sounded very fine indeed, " said theDuke; and a touch of mockery had crept into his voice. 

"Now, don't begin trying to annoy me again, " said Germaine pettishly. 

"The last thing I should dream of, my dear girl, " said the Duke, smiling. 

"And De Relzieres? Is he wounded?" said Germaine. 

"Poor dear De Relzieres: he won't be out of bed for the next sixmonths, " said the Duke; and he laughed lightly and gaily. 

"Good gracious!" cried Germaine. 

"It will do poor dear De Relzieres a world of good. He has a touch ofenteritis; and for enteritis there is nothing like rest, " said the Duke. 

Sonia was not getting on very quickly with the wedding-cards. Germainewas sitting with her back to her; and over her shoulder Sonia couldwatch the face of the Duke--an extraordinarily mobile face, changingwith every passing mood. Sometimes his eyes met hers; and hers fellbefore them. But as soon as they turned away from her she was watchinghim again, almost greedily, as if she could not see enough of his facein which strength of will and purpose was mingled with a faint, ironicscepticism, and tempered by a fine air of race. 

He finished his tea; then he took a morocco case from his pocket, andsaid to Germaine, "It must be quite three days since I gave youanything. "

He opened the case, disclosed a pearl pendant, and handed it to her. 

"Oh, how nice!" she cried, taking it. 

She took it from the case, saying that it was a beauty. She showed itto Sonia; then she put it on and stood before a mirror admiring theeffect. To tell the truth, the effect was not entirely desirable. Thepearls did not improve the look of her rather coarse brown skin; andher skin added nothing to the beauty of the pearls. Sonia saw this, andso did the Duke. He looked at Sonia's white throat. She met his eyesand blushed. She knew that the same thought was in both their minds;the pearls would have looked infinitely better there. 

Germaine finished admiring herself; she was incapable even ofsuspecting that so expensive a pendant could not suit her perfectly. 

The Duke said idly: "Goodness! Are all those invitations to thewedding?"

"That's only down to the letter V, " said Germaine proudly. 

"And there are twenty-five letters in the alphabet! You must beinviting the whole world. You'll have to have the Madeleine enlarged. It won't hold them all. There isn't a church in Paris that will, " saidthe Duke. 

"Won't it be a splendid marriage!" said Germaine. "There'll besomething like a crush. There are sure to be accidents. "

"If I were you, I should have careful arrangements made, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, let people look after themselves. They'll remember it better ifthey're crushed a little, " said Germaine. 

There was a flicker of contemptuous wonder in the Duke's eyes. But heonly shrugged his shoulders, and turning to Sonia, said, "Will you bean angel and play me a little Grieg, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff? I heardyou playing yesterday. No one plays Grieg like you. "

"Excuse me, Jacques, but Mademoiselle Kritchnoff has her work to do, "said Germaine tartly. 

"Five minutes' interval--just a morsel of Grieg, I beg, " said the Duke, with an irresistible smile. 

"All right, " said Germaine grudgingly. "But I've something important totalk to you about. "

"By Jove! So have I. I was forgetting. I've the last photograph I tookof you and Mademoiselle Sonia. " Germaine frowned and shrugged hershoulders. "With your light frocks in the open air, you look like twobig flowers, " said the Duke. 

"You call that important!" cried Germaine. 

"It's very important--like all trifles, " said the Duke, smiling. "Look!isn't it nice?" And he took a photograph from his pocket, and held itout to her. 

"Nice? It's shocking! We're making the most appalling faces, " saidGermaine, looking at the photograph in his hand. 

"Well, perhaps you ARE making faces, " said the Duke seriously, considering the photograph with grave earnestness. "But they're notappalling faces--not by any means. You shall be judge, MademoiselleSonia. The faces--well, we won't talk about the faces--but theoutlines. Look at the movement of your scarf. " And he handed thephotograph to Sonia. 

"Jacques!" said Germaine impatiently. 

"Oh, yes, you've something important to tell me. What is it?" said theDuke, with an air of resignation; and he took the photograph from Soniaand put it carefully back in his pocket. 

"Victoire has telephoned from Paris to say that we've had a paper-knifeand a Louis Seize inkstand given us, " said Germaine. 

"Hurrah!" cried the Duke in a sudden shout that made them both jump. 

"And a pearl necklace, " said Germaine. 

"Hurrah!" cried the Duke. 

"You're perfectly childish, " said Germaine pettishly. "I tell you we'vebeen given a paper-knife, and you shout 'hurrah!' I say we've beengiven a pearl necklace, and you shout 'hurrah!' You can't have theslightest sense of values. "

"I beg your pardon. This pearl necklace is from one of your father'sfriends, isn't it?" said the Duke. 

"Yes; why?" said Germaine. 

"But the inkstand and the paper-knife must be from the FaubourgSaint-Germain, and well on the shabby side?" said the Duke. 

"Yes; well?"

"Well then, my dear girl, what are you complaining about? They balance;the equilibrium is restored. You can't have everything, " said the Duke;and he laughed mischievously. 

Germaine flushed, and bit her lip; her eyes sparkled. 

"You don't care a rap about me, " she said stormily. 

"But I find you adorable, " said the Duke. 

"You keep annoying me, " said Germaine pettishly. "And you do it onpurpose. I think it's in very bad taste. I shall end by taking adislike to you--I know I shall. "

"Wait till we're married for that, my dear girl, " said the Duke; and helaughed again, with a blithe, boyish cheerfulness, which deepened theangry flush in Germaine's cheeks. 

"Can't you be serious about anything?" she cried. 

"I am the most serious man in Europe, " said the Duke. 

Germaine went to the window and stared out of it sulkily. 

The Duke walked up and down the hall, looking at the pictures of someof his ancestors--somewhat grotesque persons--with humorousappreciation. Between addressing the envelopes Sonia kept glancing athim. Once he caught her eye, and smiled at her. Germaine's back waseloquent of her displeasure. The Duke stopped at a gap in the line ofpictures in which there hung a strip of old tapestry. 

"I can never understand why you have left all these ancestors of minestaring from the walls and have taken away the quite admirable andinteresting portrait of myself, " he said carelessly. 

Germaine turned sharply from the window; Sonia stopped in the middle ofaddressing an envelope; and both the girls stared at him inastonishment. 

"There certainly was a portrait of me where that tapestry hangs. Whathave you done with it?" said the Duke. 

"You're making fun of us again, " said Germaine. 

"Surely your Grace knows what happened, " said Sonia. 

"We wrote all the details to you and sent you all the papers threeyears ago. Didn't you get them?" said Germaine. 

"Not a detail or a newspaper. Three years ago I was in theneighbourhood of the South Pole, and lost at that, " said the Duke. 

"But it was most dramatic, my dear Jacques. All Paris was talking ofit, " said Germaine. "Your portrait was stolen. "

"Stolen? Who stole it?" said the Duke. 

Germaine crossed the hall quickly to the gap in the line of pictures. 

"I'll show you, " she said. 

She drew aside the piece of tapestry, and in the middle of the panelover which the portrait of the Duke had hung he saw written in chalkthe words:

ARSENE LUPIN

"What do you think of that autograph?" said Germaine. 

"'Arsene Lupin?'" said the Duke in a tone of some bewilderment. 

"He left his signature. It seems that he always does so, " said Sonia inan explanatory tone. 

"But who is he?" said the Duke. 

"Arsene Lupin? Surely you know who Arsene Lupin is?" said Germaineimpatiently. 

"I haven't the slightest notion, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, come! No one is as South-Pole as all that!" cried Germaine. "Youdon't know who Lupin is? The most whimsical, the most audacious, andthe most genial thief in France. For the last ten years he has kept thepolice at bay. He has baffled Ganimard, Holmlock Shears, the greatEnglish detective, and even Guerchard, whom everybody says is thegreatest detective we've had in France since Vidocq. In fact, he's ournational robber. Do you mean to say you don't know him?"

"Not even enough to ask him to lunch at a restaurant, " said the Dukeflippantly. "What's he like?"

"Like? Nobody has the slightest idea. He has a thousand disguises. Hehas dined two evenings running at the English Embassy. "

"But if nobody knows him, how did they learn that?" said the Duke, witha puzzled air. 

"Because the second evening, about ten o'clock, they noticed that oneof the guests had disappeared, and with him all the jewels of theambassadress. "

"All of them?" said the Duke. 

"Yes; and Lupin left his card behind him with these words scribbled onit:"

"'This is not a robbery; it is a restitution. You took the Wallacecollection from us. '"

"But it was a hoax, wasn't it?" said the Duke. 

"No, your Grace; and he has done better than that. You remember theaffair of the Daray Bank--the savings bank for poor people?" saidSonia, her gentle face glowing with a sudden enthusiastic animation. 

"Let's see, " said the Duke. "Wasn't that the financier who doubled hisfortune at the expense of a heap of poor wretches and ruined twothousand people?"

"Yes; that's the man, " said Sonia. "And Lupin stripped Daray's houseand took from him everything he had in his strong-box. He didn't leavehim a sou of the money. And then, when he'd taken it from him, hedistributed it among all the poor wretches whom Daray had ruined. "

"But this isn't a thief you're talking about--it's a philanthropist, "said the Duke. 

"A fine sort of philanthropist!" broke in Germaine in a peevish tone. "There was a lot of philanthropy about his robbing papa, wasn't there?"

"Well, " said the Duke, with an air of profound reflection, "if you cometo think of it, that robbery was not worthy of this national hero. Myportrait, if you except the charm and beauty of the face itself, is notworth much. "

"If you think he was satisfied with your portrait, you're very muchmistaken. All my father's collections were robbed, " said Germaine. 

"Your father's collections?" said the Duke. "But they're better guardedthan the Bank of France. Your father is as careful of them as the appleof his eye. "

"That's exactly it--he was too careful of them. That's why Lupinsucceeded. "

"This is very interesting, " said the Duke; and he sat down on a couchbefore the gap in the pictures, to go into the matter more at his ease. "I suppose he had accomplices in the house itself?"

"Yes, one accomplice, " said Germaine. 

"Who was that?" asked the Duke. 

"Papa!" said Germaine. 

"Oh, come! what on earth do you mean?" said the Duke. "You're gettingquite incomprehensible, my dear girl. "

"Well, I'll make it clear to you. One morning papa received aletter--but wait. Sonia, get me the Lupin papers out of the bureau. "

Sonia rose from the writing-table, and went to a bureau, an admirableexample of the work of the great English maker, Chippendale. It stoodon the other side of the hall between an Oriental cabinet and asixteenth-century Italian cabinet--for all the world as if it werestanding in a crowded curiosity shop--with the natural effect that thethree pieces, by their mere incongruity, took something each from thebeauty of the other. Sonia raised the flap of the bureau, and takingfrom one of the drawers a small portfolio, turned over the papers in itand handed a letter to the Duke. 

"This is the envelope, " she said. "It's addressed to M. Gournay-Martin, Collector, at the Chateau de Charmerace, Ile-et-Vilaine. "

The Duke opened the envelope and took out a letter. 

"It's an odd handwriting, " he said. 

"Read it--carefully, " said Germaine. 

It was an uncommon handwriting. The letters of it were small, butperfectly formed. It looked the handwriting of a man who knew exactlywhat he wanted to say, and liked to say it with extreme precision. Theletter ran:

 "DEAR SIR, "

 "Please forgive my writing to you without our having been introduced to one another; but I flatter myself that you know me, at any rate, by name. "

 "There is in the drawing-room next your hall a Gainsborough of admirable quality which affords me infinite pleasure. Your Goyas in the same drawing-room are also to my liking, as well as your Van Dyck. In the further drawing-room I note the Renaissance cabinets--a marvellous pair--the Flemish tapestry, the Fragonard, the clock signed Boulle, and various other objects of less importance. But above all I have set my heart on that coronet which you bought at the sale of the Marquise de Ferronaye, and which was formerly worn by the unfortunate Princesse de Lamballe. I take the greatest interest in this coronet: in the first place, on account of the charming and tragic memories which it calls up in the mind of a poet passionately fond of history, and in the second place--though it is hardly worth while talking about that kind of thing--on account of its intrinsic value. I reckon indeed that the stones in your coronet are, at the very lowest, worth half a million francs. "

 "I beg you, my dear sir, to have these different objects properly packed up, and to forward them, addressed to me, carriage paid, to the Batignolles Station. Failing this, I shall Proceed to remove them myself on the night of Thursday, August 7th. "

 "Please pardon the slight trouble to which I am putting you, and believe me, "

 "Yours very sincerely, "

 "ARSENE LUPIN. "

 "P. S. --It occurs to me that the pictures have not glass before them. It would be as well to repair this omission before forwarding them to me, and I am sure that you will take this extra trouble cheerfully. I am aware, of course, that some of the best judges declare that a picture loses some of its quality when seen through glass. But it preserves them, and we should always be ready and willing to sacrifice a portion of our own pleasure for the benefit of posterity. France demands it of us. --A. L. "

The Duke laughed, and said, "Really, this is extraordinarily funny. Itmust have made your father laugh. "

"Laugh?" said Germaine. "You should have seen his face. He took itseriously enough, I can tell you. "

"Not to the point of forwarding the things to Batignolles, I hope, "said the Duke. 

"No, but to the point of being driven wild, " said Germaine. "And sincethe police had always been baffled by Lupin, he had the brilliant ideaof trying what soldiers could do. The Commandant at Rennes is a greatfriend of papa's; and papa went to him, and told him about Lupin'sletter and what he feared. The colonel laughed at him; but he offeredhim a corporal and six soldiers to guard his collection, on the nightof the seventh. It was arranged that they should come from Rennes bythe last train so that the burglars should have no warning of theircoming. Well, they came, seven picked men--men who had seen service inTonquin. We gave them supper; and then the corporal posted them in thehall and the two drawing-rooms where the pictures and things were. Ateleven we all went to bed, after promising the corporal that, in theevent of any fight with the burglars, we would not stir from our rooms. I can tell you I felt awfully nervous. I couldn't get to sleep for agesand ages. Then, when I did, I did not wake till morning. The night hadpassed absolutely quietly. Nothing out of the common had happened. There had not been the slightest noise. I awoke Sonia and my father. Wedressed as quickly as we could, and rushed down to the drawing-room. "

She paused dramatically. 

"Well?" said the Duke. 

"Well, it was done. "

"What was done?" said the Duke. 

"Everything, " said Germaine. "Pictures had gone, tapestries had gone, cabinets had gone, and the clock had gone. "

"And the coronet too?" said the Duke. 

"Oh, no. That was at the Bank of France. And it was doubtless to makeup for not getting it that Lupin stole your portrait. At any rate hedidn't say that he was going to steal it in his letter. "

"But, come! this is incredible. Had he hypnotized the corporal and thesix soldiers? Or had he murdered them all?" said the Duke. 

"Corporal? There wasn't any corporal, and there weren't any soldiers. The corporal was Lupin, and the soldiers were part of his gang, " saidGermaine. 

"I don't understand, " said the Duke. "The colonel promised your fathera corporal and six men. Didn't they come?"

"They came to the railway station all right, " said Germaine. "But youknow the little inn half-way between the railway station and thechateau? They stopped to drink there, and at eleven o'clock nextmorning one of the villagers found all seven of them, along with thefootman who was guiding them to the chateau, sleeping like logs in thelittle wood half a mile from the inn. Of course the innkeeper could notexplain when their wine was drugged. He could only tell us that amotorist, who had stopped at the inn to get some supper, had called thesoldiers in and insisted on standing them drinks. They had seemed alittle fuddled before they left the inn, and the motorist had insistedon driving them to the chateau in his car. When the drug took effect hesimply carried them out of it one by one, and laid them in the wood tosleep it off. "

"Lupin seems to have made a thorough job of it, anyhow, " said the Duke. 

"I should think so, " said Germaine. "Guerchard was sent down fromParis; but he could not find a single clue. It was not for want oftrying, for he hates Lupin. It's a regular fight between them, and sofar Lupin has scored every point. "

"He must be as clever as they make 'em, " said the Duke. 

"He is, " said Germaine. "And do you know, I shouldn't be at allsurprised if he's in the neighbourhood now. "

"What on earth do you mean?" said the Duke. 

"I'm not joking, " said Germaine. "Odd things are happening. Some onehas been changing the place of things. That silver statuette now--itwas on the cabinet, and we found it moved to the piano. Yet nobody hadtouched it. And look at this window. Some one has broken a pane in itjust at the height of the fastening. "

"The deuce they have!" said the Duke. 

CHAPTER IV

THE DUKE INTERVENES

The Duke rose, came to the window, and looked at the broken pane. Hestepped out on to the terrace and looked at the turf; then he came backinto the room. 

"This looks serious, " he said. "That pane has not been broken at all. If it had been broken, the pieces of glass would be lying on the turf. It has been cut out. We must warn your father to look to his treasures. "

"I told you so, " said Germaine. "I said that Arsene Lupin was in theneighbourhood. "

"Arsene Lupin is a very capable man, " said the Duke, smiling. "Butthere's no reason to suppose that he's the only burglar in France oreven in Ile-et-Vilaine. "

"I'm sure that he's in the neighbourhood. I have a feeling that he is, "said Germaine stubbornly. 

The Duke shrugged his shoulders, and said a smile: "Far be it from meto contradict you. A woman's intuition is always--well, it's always awoman's intuition. "

He came back into the hall, and as he did so the door opened and ashock-headed man in the dress of a gamekeeper stood on the threshold. 

"There are visitors to see you, Mademoiselle Germaine, " he said, in avery deep bass voice. 

"What! Are you answering the door, Firmin?" said Germaine. 

"Yes, Mademoiselle Germaine: there's only me to do it. All the servantshave started for the station, and my wife and I are going to see afterthe family to-night and to-morrow morning. Shall I show these gentlemenin?"

"Who are they?" said Germaine. 

"Two gentlemen who say they have an appointment. "

"What are their names?" said Germaine. 

"They are two gentlemen. I don't know what their names are. I've nomemory for names. "

"That's an advantage to any one who answers doors, " said the Duke, smiling at the stolid Firmin. 

"Well, it can't be the two Charolais again. It's not time for them tocome back. I told them papa would not be back yet, " said Germaine. 

"No, it can't be them, Mademoiselle Germaine, " said Firmin, withdecision. 

"Very well; show them in, " she said. 

Firmin went out, leaving the door open behind him; and they heard hishob-nailed boots clatter and squeak on the stone floor of the outerhall. 

"Charolais?" said the Duke idly. "I don't know the name. Who are they?"

"A little while ago Alfred announced two gentlemen. I thought they wereGeorges and Andre du Buit, for they promised to come to tea. I toldAlfred to show them in, and to my surprise there appeared two horribleprovincials. I never--Oh!"

She stopped short, for there, coming through the door, were the twoCharolais, father and son. 

M. Charolais pressed his motor-cap to his bosom, and bowed low. "Oncemore I salute you, mademoiselle, " he said. 

His son bowed, and revealed behind him another young man. 

"My second son. He has a chemist's shop, " said M. Charolais, waving alarge red hand at the young man. 

The young man, also blessed with the family eyes, set close together, entered the hall and bowed to the two girls. The Duke raised hiseyebrows ever so slightly. 

"I'm very sorry, gentlemen, " said Germaine, "but my father has not yetreturned. "

"Please don't apologize. There is not the slightest need, " said M. Charolais; and he and his two sons settled themselves down on threechairs, with the air of people who had come to make a considerable stay. 

For a moment, Germaine, taken aback by their coolness, was speechless;then she said hastily: "Very likely he won't be back for another hour. I shouldn't like you to waste your time. "

"Oh, it doesn't matter, " said M. Charolais, with an indulgent air; andturning to the Duke, he added, "However, while we're waiting, if you'rea member of the family, sir, we might perhaps discuss the least youwill take for the motor-car. "

"I'm sorry, " said the Duke, "but I have nothing to do with it. "

Before M. Charolais could reply the door opened, and Firmin's deepvoice said:

"Will you please come in here, sir?"

A third young man came into the hall. 

"What, you here, Bernard?" said M. Charolais. "I told you to wait atthe park gates. "

"I wanted to see the car too, " said Bernard. 

"My third son. He is destined for the Bar, " said M. Charolais, with agreat air of paternal pride. 

"But how many are there?" said Germaine faintly. 

Before M. Charolais could answer, Firmin once more appeared on thethreshold. 

"The master's just come back, miss, " he said. 

"Thank goodness for that!" said Germaine; and turning to M. Charolais, she added, "If you will come with me, gentlemen, I will take you to myfather, and you can discuss the price of the car at once. "

As she spoke she moved towards the door. M. Charolais and his sons roseand made way for her. The father and the two eldest sons made haste tofollow her out of the room. But Bernard lingered behind, apparently toadmire the bric-a-brac on the cabinets. With infinite quickness hegrabbed two objects off the nearest, and followed his brothers. TheDuke sprang across the hall in three strides, caught him by the arm onthe very threshold, jerked him back into the hall, and shut the door. 

"No you don't, my young friend, " he said sharply. 

"Don't what?" said Bernard, trying to shake off his grip. 

"You've taken a cigarette-case, " said the Duke. 

"No, no, I haven't--nothing of the kind!" stammered Bernard. 

The Duke grasped the young man's left wrist, plunged his hand into themotor-cap which he was carrying, drew out of it a silvercigarette-case, and held it before his eyes. 

Bernard turned pale to the lips. His frightened eyes seemed about toleap from their sockets. 

"It--it--was a m-m-m-mistake, " he stammered. 

The Duke shifted his grip to his collar, and thrust his hand into thebreast-pocket of his coat. Bernard, helpless in his grip, and utterlytaken aback by his quickness, made no resistance. 

The Duke drew out a morocco case, and said: "Is this a mistake too?"

"Heavens! The pendant!" cried Sonia, who was watching the scene withparted lips and amazed eyes. 

Bernard dropped on his knees and clasped his hands. 

"Forgive me!" he cried, in a choking voice. "Forgive me! Don't tell anyone! For God's sake, don't tell any one!"

And the tears came streaming from his eyes. 

"You young rogue!" said the Duke quietly. 

"I'll never do it again--never! Oh, have pity on me! If my father knew!Oh, let me off!" cried Bernard. 

The Duke hesitated, and looked down on him, frowning and pulling at hismoustache. Then, more quickly than one would have expected from socareless a trifler, his mind was made up. 

"All right, " he said slowly. "Just for this once . . . Be off with you. "And he jerked him to his feet and almost threw him into the outer hall. 

"Thanks! . . . Oh, thanks!" said Bernard. 

The Duke shut the door and looked at Sonia, breathing quickly. 

"Well? Did you ever see anything like that? That young fellow will go along way. The cheek of the thing! Right under our very eyes! And thispendant, too: it would have been a pity to lose it. Upon my word, Iought to have handed him over to the police. "

"No, no!" cried Sonia. "You did quite right to let him off--quiteright. "

The Duke set the pendant on the ledge of the bureau, and came down thehall to Sonia. 

"What's the matter?" he said gently. "You're quite pale. "

"It has upset me . . . That unfortunate boy, " said Sonia; and her eyeswere swimming with tears. 

"Do you pity the young rogue?" said the Duke. 

"Yes; it's dreadful. His eyes were so terrified, and so boyish. And, tobe caught like that . . . Stealing . . . In the act. Oh, it's hateful!"

"Come, come, how sensitive you are!" said the Duke, in a soothing, almost caressing tone. His eyes, resting on her charming, troubledface, were glowing with a warm admiration. 

"Yes; it's silly, " said Sonia; "but you noticed his eyes--the huntedlook in them? You pitied him, didn't you? For you are kind at bottom. "

"Why at bottom?" said the Duke. 

"Oh, I said at bottom because you look sarcastic, and at first sightyou're so cold. But often that's only the mask of those who havesuffered the most. . . . They are the most indulgent, " said Sonia slowly, hesitating, picking her words. 

"Yes, I suppose they are, " said the Duke thoughtfully. 

"It's because when one has suffered one understands. . . . Yes: oneunderstands, " said Sonia. 

There was a pause. The Duke's eyes still rested on her face. Theadmiration in them was mingled with compassion. 

"You're very unhappy here, aren't you?" he said gently. 

"Me? Why?" said Sonia quickly. 

"Your smile is so sad, and your eyes so timid, " said the Duke slowly. "You're just like a little child one longs to protect. Are you quitealone in the world?"

His eyes and tones were full of pity; and a faint flush mantled Sonia'scheeks. 

"Yes, I'm alone, " she said. 

"But have you no relations--no friends?" said the Duke. 

"No, " said Sonia. 

"I don't mean here in France, but in your own country. . . . Surely youhave some in Russia?"

"No, not a soul. You see, my father was a Revolutionist. He died inSiberia when I was a baby. And my mother, she died too--in Paris. Shehad fled from Russia. I was two years old when she died. "

"It must be hard to be alone like that, " said the Duke. 

"No, " said Sonia, with a faint smile, "I don't mind having norelations. I grew used to that so young . . . So very young. But what ishard--but you'll laugh at me--"

"Heaven forbid!" said the Duke gravely. 

"Well, what is hard is, never to get a letter . . . An envelope that oneopens . . . From some one who thinks about one--"

She paused, and then added gravely: "But I tell myself that it'snonsense. I have a certain amount of philosophy. "

She smiled at him--an adorable child's smile. 

The Duke smiled too. "A certain amount of philosophy, " he said softly. "You look like a philosopher!"

As they stood looking at one another with serious eyes, almost witheyes that probed one another's souls, the drawing-room door flung open, and Germaine's harsh voice broke on their ears. 

"You're getting quite impossible, Sonia!" she cried. "It's absolutelyuseless telling you anything. I told you particularly to pack myleather writing-case in my bag with your own hand. I happen to open adrawer, and what do I see? My leather writing-case. "

"I'm sorry, " said Sonia. "I was going--"

"Oh, there's no need to bother about it. I'll see after it myself, "said Germaine. "But upon my word, you might be one of our guests, seeing how easily you take things. You're negligence personified. "

"Come, Germaine . . . A mere oversight, " said the Duke, in a coaxing tone. 

"Now, excuse me, Jacques; but you've got an unfortunate habit ofinterfering in household matters. You did it only the other day. I canno longer say a word to a servant--"

"Germaine!" said the Duke, in sharp protest. 

Germaine turned from him to Sonia, and pointed to a packet of envelopesand some letters, which Bernard Charolais had knocked off the table, and said, "Pick up those envelopes and letters, and bring everything tomy room, and be quick about it!"

She flung out of the room, and slammed the door behind her. 

Sonia seemed entirely unmoved by the outburst: no flush ofmortification stained her cheeks, her lips did not quiver. She stoopedto pick up the fallen papers. 

"No, no; let me, I beg you, " said the Duke, in a tone of distress. Anddropping on one knee, he began to gather together the fallen papers. Heset them on the table, and then he said: "You mustn't mind whatGermaine says. She's--she's--she's all right at heart. It's her manner. She's always been happy, and had everything she wanted. She's beenspoiled, don't you know. Those kind of people never have anyconsideration for any one else. You mustn't let her outburst hurt you. "

"Oh, but I don't. I don't really, " protested Sonia. 

"I'm glad of that, " said the Duke. "It isn't really worth noticing. "

He drew the envelopes and unused cards into a packet, and handed themto her. 

"There!" he said, with a smile. "That won't be too heavy for you. "

"Thank you, " said Sonia, taking it from him. 

"Shall I carry them for you?" said the Duke. 

"No, thank you, your Grace, " said Sonia. 

With a quick, careless, almost irresponsible movement, he caught herhand, bent down, and kissed it. A great wave of rosy colour flowed overher face, flooding its whiteness to her hair and throat. She stood fora moment turned to stone; she put her hand to her heart. Then on hasty, faltering feet she went to the door, opened it, paused on thethreshold, turned and looked back at him, and vanished. 

CHAPTER V

A LETTER FROM LUPIN

The Duke stood for a while staring thoughtfully at the door throughwhich Sonia had passed, a faint smile playing round his lips. Hecrossed the hall to the Chippendale bureau, took a cigarette from a boxwhich stood on the ledge of it, beside the morocco case which held thependant, lighted it, and went slowly out on to the terrace. He crossedit slowly, paused for a moment on the edge of it, and looked across thestretch of country with musing eyes, which saw nothing of its beauty. Then he turned to the right, went down a flight of steps to the lowerterrace, crossed the lawn, and took a narrow path which led into theheart of a shrubbery of tall deodoras. In the middle of it he came toone of those old stone benches, moss-covered and weather-stained, whichadorn the gardens of so many French chateaux. It faced a marble basinfrom which rose the slender column of a pattering fountain. The figureof a Cupid danced joyously on a tall pedestal to the right of thebasin. The Duke sat down on the bench, and was still, with that rarestillness which only comes of nerves in perfect harmony, his browknitted in careful thought. Now and again the frown cleared from hisface, and his intent features relaxed into a faint smile, a smile ofpleasant memory. Once he rose, walked round the fountains frowning, came back to the bench, and sat down again. The early September duskwas upon him when at last he rose and with quick steps took his waythrough the shrubbery, with the air of a man whose mind, for good orill, was at last made up. 

When he came on to the upper terrace his eyes fell on a group whichstood at the further corner, near the entrance of the chateau, and hesauntered slowly up to it. 

In the middle of it stood M. Gournay-Martin, a big, round, flabby hulkof a man. He was nearly as red in the face as M. Charolais; and helooked a great deal redder owing to the extreme whiteness of thewhiskers which stuck out on either side of his vast expanse of cheek. As he came up, it struck the Duke as rather odd that he should have theCharolais eyes, set close together; any one who did not know that theywere strangers to one another might have thought it a family likeness. 

The millionaire was waving his hands and roaring after the manner of aman who has cultivated the art of brow-beating those with whom he doesbusiness; and as the Duke neared the group, he caught the words:

"No; that's the lowest I'll take. Take it or leave it. You can say Yes, or you can say Good-bye; and I don't care a hang which. "

"It's very dear, " said M. Charolais, in a mournful tone. 

"Dear!" roared M. Gournay-Martin. "I should like to see any one elsesell a hundred horse-power car for eight hundred pounds. Why, my goodsir, you're having me!"

"No, no, " protested M. Charolais feebly. 

"I tell you you're having me, " roared M. Gournay-Martin. "I'm lettingyou have a magnificent car for which I paid thirteen hundred pounds foreight hundred! It's scandalous the way you've beaten me down!"

"No, no, " protested M. Charolais. 

He seemed frightened out of his life by the vehemence of the big man. 

"You wait till you've seen how it goes, " said M. Gournay-Martin. 

"Eight hundred is very dear, " said M. Charolais. 

"Come, come! You're too sharp, that's what you are. But don't say anymore till you've tried the car. "

He turned to his chauffeur, who stood by watching the struggle with anappreciative grin on his brown face, and said: "Now, Jean, take thesegentlemen to the garage, and run them down to the station. Show themwhat the car can do. Do whatever they ask you--everything. "

He winked at Jean, turned again to M. Charolais, and said: "You know, M. Charolais, you're too good a man of business for me. You're hotstuff, that's what you are--hot stuff. You go along and try the car. Good-bye--good-bye. "

The four Charolais murmured good-bye in deep depression, and went offwith Jean, wearing something of the air of whipped dogs. When they hadgone round the corner the millionaire turned to the Duke and said, witha chuckle: "He'll buy the car all right--had him fine!"

"No business success of yours could surprise me, " said the Dukeblandly, with a faint, ironical smile. 

M. Gournay-Martin's little pig's eyes danced and sparkled; and thesmiles flowed over the distended skin of his face like little ripplesover a stagnant pool, reluctantly. It seemed to be too tightlystretched for smiles. 

"The car's four years old, " he said joyfully. "He'll give me eighthundred for it, and it's not worth a pipe of tobacco. And eight hundredpounds is just the price of a little Watteau I've had my eye on forsome time--a first-class investment. "

They strolled down the terrace, and through one of the windows into thehall. Firmin had lighted the lamps, two of them. They made but a smalloasis of light in a desert of dim hall. The millionaire let himselfdown very gingerly into an Empire chair, as if he feared, withexcellent reason, that it might collapse under his weight. 

"Well, my dear Duke, " he said, "you don't ask me the result of myofficial lunch or what the minister said. "

"Is there any news?" said the Duke carelessly. 

"Yes. The decree will be signed to-morrow. You can consider yourselfdecorated. I hope you feel a happy man, " said the millionaire, rubbinghis fat hands together with prodigious satisfaction. 

"Oh, charmed--charmed, " said the Duke, with entire indifference. 

"As for me, I'm delighted--delighted, " said the millionaire. "I wasextremely keen on your being decorated. After that, and after a volumeor two of travels, and after you've published your grandfather'sletters with a good introduction, you can begin to think of theAcademy. "

"The Academy!" said the Duke, startled from his usual coolness. "ButI've no title to become an Academician. "

"How, no title?" said the millionaire solemnly; and his little eyesopened wide. "You're a duke. "

"There's no doubt about that, " said the Duke, watching him withadmiring curiosity. 

"I mean to marry my daughter to a worker--a worker, my dear Duke, " saidthe millionaire, slapping his big left hand with his bigger right. "I've no prejudices--not I. I wish to have for son-in-law a duke whowears the Order of the Legion of Honour, and belongs to the AcademieFrancaise, because that is personal merit. I'm no snob. "

A gentle, irrepressible laugh broke from the Duke. 

"What are you laughing at?" said the millionaire, and a sudden loweringgloom overspread his beaming face. 

"Nothing--nothing, " said the Duke quietly. "Only you're so full ofsurprises. "

"I've startled you, have I? I thought I should. It's true that I'm fullof surprises. It's my knowledge. I understand so much. I understandbusiness, and I love art, pictures, a good bargain, bric-a-brac, finetapestry. They're first-class investments. Yes, certainly I do love thebeautiful. And I don't want to boast, but I understand it. I havetaste, and I've something better than taste; I have a flair, thedealer's flair. "

"Yes, your collections, especially your collection in Paris, prove it, "said the Duke, stifling a yawn. 

"And yet you haven't seen the finest thing I have--the coronet of thePrincesse de Lamballe. It's worth half a million francs. "

"So I've heard, " said the Duke, a little wearily. "I don't wonder thatArsene Lupin envied you it. "

The Empire chair creaked as the millionaire jumped. 

"Don't speak of the swine!" he roared. "Don't mention his name beforeme. "

"Germaine showed me his letter, " said the Duke. "It is amusing. "

"His letter! The blackguard! I just missed a fit of apoplexy from it, "roared the millionaire. "I was in this very hall where we are now, chatting quietly, when all at once in comes Firmin, and hands me aletter. "

He was interrupted by the opening of the door. Firmin came clumpingdown the room, and said in his deep voice, "A letter for you, sir. "

"Thank you, " said the millionaire, taking the letter, and, as he fittedhis eye-glass into his eye, he went on, "Yes, Firmin brought me aletter of which the handwriting, "--he raised the envelope he washolding to his eyes, and bellowed, "Good heavens!"

"What's the matter?" said the Duke, jumping in his chair at the sudden, startling burst of sound. 

"The handwriting!--the handwriting!--it's THE SAME HANDWRITING!" gaspedthe millionaire. And he let himself fall heavily backwards against theback of his chair. 

There was a crash. The Duke had a vision of huge arms and legs wavingin the air as the chair-back gave. There was another crash. The chaircollapsed. The huge bulk banged to the floor. 

The laughter of the Duke rang out uncontrollably. He caught one of thewaving arms, and jerked the flabby giant to his feet with an ease whichseemed to show that his muscles were of steel. 

"Come, " he said, laughing still. "This is nonsense! What do you mean bythe same handwriting? It can't be. "

"It is the same handwriting. Am I likely to make a mistake about it?"spluttered the millionaire. And he tore open the envelope with an airof frenzy. 

He ran his eyes over it, and they grew larger and larger--they grewalmost of an average size. 

"Listen, " he said "listen:"

"DEAR SIR, "

"My collection of pictures, which I had the pleasure of starting threeyears ago with some of your own, only contains, as far as Old Mastersgo, one Velasquez, one Rembrandt, and three paltry Rubens. You have agreat many more. Since it is a shame such masterpieces should be inyour hands, I propose to appropriate them; and I shall set about arespectful acquisition of them in your Paris house tomorrow morning. "

"Yours very sincerely, "

"ARSENE LUPIN. "

"He's humbugging, " said the Duke. 

"Wait! wait!" gasped the millionaire. "There's a postscript. Listen:"

"P. S. --You must understand that since you have been keeping the coronetof the Princesse de Lamballe during these three years, I shall availmyself of the same occasion to compel you to restore that piece ofjewellery to me. --A. L. "

"The thief! The scoundrel! I'm choking!" gasped the millionaire, clutching at his collar. 

To judge from the blackness of his face, and the way he staggered anddropped on to a couch, which was fortunately stronger than the chair, he was speaking the truth. 

"Firmin! Firmin!" shouted the Duke. "A glass of water! Quick! Yourmaster's ill. "

He rushed to the side of the millionaire, who gasped: "Telephone!Telephone to the Prefecture of Police! Be quick!"

The Duke loosened his collar with deft fingers; tore a Van Loo fan fromits case hanging on the wall, and fanned him furiously. Firmin cameclumping into the room with a glass of water in his hand. 

The drawing-room door opened, and Germaine and Sonia, alarmed by theDuke's shout, hurried in. 

"Quick! Your smelling-salts!" said the Duke. 

Sonia ran across the hall, opened one of the drawers in the Orientalcabinet, and ran to the millionaire with a large bottle ofsmelling-salts in her hand. The Duke took it from her, and applied itto the millionaire's nose. The millionaire sneezed thrice with terrificviolence. The Duke snatched the glass from Firmin and dashed the waterinto his host's purple face. The millionaire gasped and spluttered. 

Germaine stood staring helplessly at her gasping sire. 

"Whatever's the matter?" she said. 

"It's this letter, " said the Duke. "A letter from Lupin. "

"I told you so--I said that Lupin was in the neighbourhood, " criedGermaine triumphantly. 

"Firmin--where's Firmin?" said the millionaire, dragging himselfupright. He seemed to have recovered a great deal of his voice. "Oh, there you are!"

He jumped up, caught the gamekeeper by the shoulder, and shook himfuriously. 

"This letter. Where did it come from? Who brought it?" he roared. 

"It was in the letter-box--the letter-box of the lodge at the bottom ofthe park. My wife found it there, " said Firmin, and he twisted out ofthe millionaire's grasp. 

"Just as it was three years ago, " roared the millionaire, with an airof desperation. "It's exactly the same coup. Oh, what a catastrophe!What a catastrophe!"

He made as if to tear out his hair; then, remembering its scantiness, refrained. 

"Now, come, it's no use losing your head, " said the Duke, with quietfirmness. "If this letter isn't a hoax--"

"Hoax?" bellowed the millionaire. "Was it a hoax three years ago?"

"Very good, " said the Duke. "But if this robbery with which you'rethreatened is genuine, it's just childish. "

"How?" said the millionaire. 

"Look at the date of the letter--Sunday, September the third. Thisletter was written to-day. "

"Yes. Well, what of it?" said the millionaire. 

"Look at the letter: 'I shall set about a respectful acquisition ofthem in your Paris house to-morrow morning'--to-morrow morning. "

"Yes, yes; 'to-morrow morning'--what of it?" said the millionaire. 

"One of two things, " said the Duke. "Either it's a hoax, and we needn'tbother about it; or the threat is genuine, and we have the time to stopthe robbery. "

"Of course we have. Whatever was I thinking of?" said the millionaire. And his anguish cleared from his face. 

"For once in a way our dear Lupin's fondness for warning people willhave given him a painful jar, " said the Duke. 

"Come on! let me get at the telephone, " cried the millionaire. 

"But the telephone's no good, " said Sonia quickly. 

"No good! Why?" roared the millionaire, dashing heavily across the roomto it. 

"Look at the time, " said Sonia; "the telephone doesn't work as late asthis. It's Sunday. "

The millionaire stopped dead. 

"It's true. It's appalling, " he groaned. 

"But that doesn't matter. You can always telegraph, " said Germaine. 

"But you can't. It's impossible, " said Sonia. "You can't get a messagethrough. It's Sunday; and the telegraph offices shut at twelve o'clock. "

"Oh, what a Government!" groaned the millionaire. And he sank downgently on a chair beside the telephone, and mopped the beads of anguishfrom his brow. They looked at him, and they looked at one another, cudgelling their brains for yet another way of communicating with theParis police. 

"Hang it all!" said the Duke. "There must be some way out of thedifficulty. "

"What way?" said the millionaire. 

The Duke did not answer. He put his hands in his pockets and walkedimpatiently up and down the hall. Germaine sat down on a chair. Soniaput her hands on the back of a couch, and leaned forward, watching him. Firmin stood by the door, whither he had retired to be out of the reachof his excited master, with a look of perplexity on his stolid face. They all watched the Duke with the air of people waiting for an oracleto deliver its message. The millionaire kept mopping the beads ofanguish from his brow. The more he thought of his impending loss, themore freely he perspired. Germaine's maid, Irma, came to the doorleading into the outer hall, which Firmin, according to his usualcustom, had left open, and peered in wonder at the silent group. 

"I have it!" cried the Duke at last. "There is a way out. "

"What is it?" said the millionaire, rising and coming to the middle ofthe hall. 

"What time is it?" said the Duke, pulling out his watch. 

The millionaire pulled out his watch. Germaine pulled out hers. Firmin, after a struggle, produced from some pocket difficult of access anobject not unlike a silver turnip. There was a brisk dispute betweenGermaine and the millionaire about which of their watches was right. Firmin, whose watch apparently did not agree with the watch of eitherof them, made his deep voice heard above theirs. The Duke came to theconclusion that it must be a few minutes past seven. 

"It's seven or a few minutes past, " he said sharply. "Well, I'm goingto take a car and hurry off to Paris. I ought to get there, baraccidents, between two and three in the morning, just in time to informthe police and catch the burglars in the very midst of their burglary. I'll just get a few things together. "

So saying, he rushed out of the hall. 

"Excellent! excellent!" said the millionaire. "Your young man is a manof resource, Germaine. It seems almost a pity that he's a duke. He'd dowonders in the building trade. But I'm going to Paris too, and you'recoming with me. I couldn't wait idly here, to save my life. And I can'tleave you here, either. This scoundrel may be going to make asimultaneous attempt on the chateau--not that there's much here that Ireally value. There's that statuette that moved, and the pane cut outof the window. I can't leave you two girls with burglars in the house. After all, there's the sixty horse-power and the thirty horse-powercar--there'll be lots of room for all of us. "

"Oh, but it's nonsense, papa; we shall get there before the servants, "said Germaine pettishly. "Think of arriving at an empty house in thedead of night. "

"Nonsense!" said the millionaire. "Hurry off and get ready. Your bagought to be packed. Where are my keys? Sonia, where are my keys--thekeys of the Paris house?"

"They're in the bureau, " said Sonia. 

"Well, see that I don't go without them. Now hurry up. Firmin, go andtell Jean that we shall want both cars. I will drive one, the Duke theother. Jean must stay with you and help guard the chateau. "

So saying he bustled out of the hall, driving the two girls before him. 

CHAPTER VI

AGAIN THE CHAROLAIS

Hardly had the door closed behind the millionaire when the head of M. Charolais appeared at one of the windows opening on to the terrace. Helooked round the empty hall, whistled softly, and stepped inside. Inside of ten seconds his three sons came in through the windows, andwith them came Jean, the millionaire's chauffeur. 

"Take the door into the outer hall, Jean, " said M. Charolais, in a lowvoice. "Bernard, take that door into the drawing-room. Pierre andLouis, help me go through the drawers. The whole family is going toParis, and if we're not quick we shan't get the cars. "

"That comes of this silly fondness for warning people of a coup, "growled Jean, as he hurried to the door of the outer hall. "It wouldhave been so simple to rob the Paris house without sending thatinfernal letter. It was sure to knock them all silly. "

"What harm can the letter do, you fool?" said M. Charolais. "It'sSunday. We want them knocked silly for to-morrow, to get hold of thecoronet. Oh, to get hold of that coronet! It must be in Paris. I'vebeen ransacking this chateau for hours. "

Jean opened the door of the outer hall half an inch, and glued his eyesto it. Bernard had done the same with the door opening into thedrawing-room. M. Charolais, Pierre, and Louis were opening drawers, ransacking them, and shutting them with infinite quickness andnoiselessly. 

"Bureau! Which is the bureau? The place is stuffed with bureaux!"growled M. Charolais. "I must have those keys. "

"That plain thing with the brass handles in the middle on theleft--that's a bureau, " said Bernard softly. 

"Why didn't you say so?" growled M. Charolais. 

He dashed to it, and tried it. It was locked. 

"Locked, of course! Just my luck! Come and get it open, Pierre. Besmart!"

The son he had described as an engineer came quickly to the bureau, fitting together as he came the two halves of a small jemmy. He fittedit into the top of the flap. There was a crunch, and the old lock gave. He opened the flap, and he and M. Charolais pulled open drawer afterdrawer. 

"Quick! Here's that fat old fool!" said Jean, in a hoarse, hissingwhisper. 

He moved down the hall, blowing out one of the lamps as he passed it. In the seventh drawer lay a bunch of keys. M. Charolais snatched it up, glanced at it, took a bunch of keys from his own pocket, put it in thedrawer, closed it, closed the flap, and rushed to the window. Jean andhis sons were already out on the terrace. 

M. Charolais was still a yard from the window when the door into theouter hall opened and in came M. Gournay-Martin. 

He caught a glimpse of a back vanishing through the window, andbellowed: "Hi! A man! A burglar! Firmin! Firmin!"

He ran blundering down the hall, tangled his feet in the fragments ofthe broken chair, and came sprawling a thundering cropper, whichknocked every breath of wind out of his capacious body. He lay flat onhis face for a couple of minutes, his broad back wrigglingconvulsively--a pathetic sight!--in the painful effort to get hisbreath back. Then he sat up, and with perfect frankness burst intotears. He sobbed and blubbered, like a small child that has hurtitself, for three or four minutes. Then, having recovered hismagnificent voice, he bellowed furiously: "Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace!Charmerace!"

Then he rose painfully to his feet, and stood staring at the openwindows. 

Presently he roared again: "Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!"

He kept looking at the window with terrified eyes, as though heexpected somebody to step in and cut his throat from ear to ear. 

"Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!" he bellowed again. 

The Duke came quietly into the hall, dressed in a heavy motor-coat, hismotor-cap on his head, and carrying a kit-bag in his hand. 

"Did I hear you call?" he said. 

"Call?" said the millionaire. "I shouted. The burglars are herealready. I've just seen one of them. He was bolting through the middlewindow. "

The Duke raised his eyebrows. 

"Nerves, " he said gently--"nerves. "

"Nerves be hanged!" said the millionaire. "I tell you I saw him asplainly as I see you. "

"Well, you can't see me at all, seeing that you're lighting an acre anda half of hall with a single lamp, " said the Duke, still in a tone ofutter incredulity. 

"It's that fool Firmin! He ought to have lighted six. Firmin! Firmin!"bellowed the millionaire. 

They listened for the sonorous clumping of the promoted gamekeeper'sboots, but they did not hear it. Evidently Firmin was still giving hismaster's instructions about the cars to Jean. 

"Well, we may as well shut the windows, anyhow, " said the Duke, proceeding to do so. "If you think Firmin would be any good, you mightpost him in this hall with a gun to-night. There could be no harm inputting a charge of small shot into the legs of these ruffians. He hasonly to get one of them, and the others will go for their lives. Yet Idon't like leaving you and Germaine in this big house with only Firminto look after you. "

"I shouldn't like it myself, and I'm not going to chance it, " growledthe millionaire. "We're going to motor to Paris along with you, andleave Jean to help Firmin fight these burglars. Firmin's allright--he's an old soldier. He fought in '70. Not that I've much beliefin soldiers against this cursed Lupin, after the way he dealt with thatcorporal and his men three years ago. "

"I'm glad you're coming to Paris, " said the Duke. "It'll be a weightoff my mind. I'd better drive the limousine, and you take thelandaulet. "

"That won't do, " said the millionaire. "Germaine won't go in thelimousine. You know she has taken a dislike to it. "

"Nevertheless, I'd better bucket on to Paris, and let you follow slowlywith Germaine. The sooner I get to Paris the better for yourcollection. I'll take Mademoiselle Kritchnoff with me, and, if youlike, Irma, though the lighter I travel the sooner I shall get there. "

"No, I'll take Irma and Germaine, " said the millionaire. "Germainewould prefer to have Irma with her, in case you had an accident. Shewouldn't like to get to Paris and have to find a fresh maid. "

The drawing-room door opened, and in came Germaine, followed by Soniaand Irma. They wore motor-cloaks and hoods and veils. Sonia and Irmawere carrying hand-bags. 

"I think it's extremely tiresome your dragging us off to Paris likethis in the middle of the night, " said Germaine pettishly. 

"Do you?" said the millionaire. "Well, then, you'll be interested tohear that I've just seen a burglar here in this very room. I frightenedhim, and he bolted through the window on to the terrace. "

"He was greenish-pink, slightly tinged with yellow, " said the Dukesoftly. 

"Greenish-pink? Oh, do stop your jesting, Jacques! Is this a time foridiocy?" cried Germaine, in a tone of acute exasperation. 

"It was the dim light which made your father see him in those colours. In a bright light, I think he would have been an Alsatian blue, " saidthe Duke suavely. 

"You'll have to break yourself of this silly habit of trifling, my dearDuke, if ever you expect to be a member of the Academie Francaise, "said the millionaire with some acrimony. "I tell you I did see aburglar. "

"Yes, yes. I admitted it frankly. It was his colour I was talkingabout, " said the Duke, with an ironical smile. 

"Oh, stop your idiotic jokes! We're all sick to death of them!" saidGermaine, with something of the fine fury which so often distinguishedher father. 

"There are times for all things, " said the millionaire solemnly. "And Imust say that, with the fate of my collection and of the coronettrembling in the balance, this does not seem to me a season for idlejests. "

"I stand reproved, " said the Duke; and he smiled at Sonia. 

"My keys, Sonia--the keys of the Paris house, " said the millionaire. 

Sonia took her own keys from her pocket and went to the bureau. Sheslipped a key into the lock and tried to turn it. It would not turn;and she bent down to look at it. 

"Why--why, some one's been tampering with the lock! It's broken!" shecried. 

"I told you I'd seen a burglar!" cried the millionaire triumphantly. "He was after the keys. "

Sonia drew back the flap of the bureau and hastily pulled open thedrawer in which the keys had been. 

"They're here!" she cried, taking them out of the drawer and holdingthem up. 

"Then I was just in time, " said the millionaire. "I startled him in thevery act of stealing the keys. "

"I withdraw! I withdraw!" said the Duke. "You did see a burglar, evidently. But still I believe he was greenish-pink. They often are. However, you'd better give me those keys, Mademoiselle Sonia, since I'mto get to Paris first. I should look rather silly if, when I got there, I had to break into the house to catch the burglars. "

Sonia handed the keys to the Duke. He contrived to take her littlehand, keys and all, into his own, as he received them, and squeezed it. The light was too dim for the others to see the flush which flamed inher face. She went back and stood beside the bureau. 

"Now, papa, are you going to motor to Paris in a thin coat and linenwaistcoat? If we're going, we'd better go. You always do keep uswaiting half an hour whenever we start to go anywhere, " said Germainefirmly. 

The millionaire bustled out of the room. With a gesture of impatienceGermaine dropped into a chair. Irma stood waiting by the drawing-roomdoor. Sonia sat down by the bureau. 

There came a sharp patter of rain against the windows. 

"Rain! It only wanted that! It's going to be perfectly beastly!" criedGermaine. 

"Oh, well, you must make the best of it. At any rate you're wellwrapped up, and the night is warm enough, though it is raining, " saidthe Duke. "Still, I could have wished that Lupin confined hisoperations to fine weather. " He paused, and added cheerfully, "But, after all, it will lay the dust. "

They sat for three or four minutes in a dull silence, listening to thepattering of the rain against the panes. The Duke took hiscigarette-case from his pocket and lighted a cigarette. 

Suddenly he lost his bored air; his face lighted up; and he saidjoyfully: "Of course, why didn't I think of it? Why should we startfrom a pit of gloom like this? Let us have the proper illuminationwhich our enterprise deserves. "

With that he set about lighting all the lamps in the hall. There werelamps on stands, lamps on brackets, lamps on tables, and lamps whichhung from the roof--old-fashioned lamps with new reservoirs, new lampsof what is called chaste design, brass lamps, silver lamps, and lampsin porcelain. The Duke lighted them one after another, patiently, missing none, with a cold perseverance. The operation was punctuated byexclamations from Germaine. They were all to the effect that she couldnot understand how he could be such a fool. The Duke paid no attentionwhatever to her. His face illumined with boyish glee, he lighted lampafter lamp. 

Sonia watched him with a smiling admiration of the childlike enthusiasmwith which he performed the task. Even the stolid face of the ox-eyedIrma relaxed into grins, which she smoothed quickly out with arespectful hand. 

The Duke had just lighted the twenty-second lamp when in bustled themillionaire. 

"What's this? What's this?" he cried, stopping short, blinking. 

"Just some more of Jacques' foolery!" cried Germaine in tones of thelast exasperation. 

"But, my dear Duke!--my dear Duke! The oil!--the oil!" cried themillionaire, in a tone of bitter distress. "Do you think it's my objectin life to swell the Rockefeller millions? We never have more than sixlamps burning unless we are holding a reception. "

"I think it looks so cheerful, " said the Duke, looking round on hishandiwork with a beaming smile of satisfaction. "But where are thecars? Jean seems a deuce of a time bringing them round. Does he expectus to go to the garage through this rain? We'd better hurry him up. Come on; you've got a good carrying voice. "

He caught the millionaire by the arm, hurried him through the outerhall, opened the big door of the chateau, and said: "Now shout!"

The millionaire looked at him, shrugged his shoulders, and said: "Youdon't beat about the bush when you want anything. "

"Why should I?" said the Duke simply. "Shout, my good chap--shout!"

The millionaire raised his voice in a terrific bellow of "Jean! Jean!Firmin! Firmin!"

There was no answer. 

CHAPTER VII

THE THEFT OF THE MOTOR-CARS

The night was very black; the rain pattered in their faces. 

Again the millionaire bellowed: "Jean! Firmin! Firmin! Jean!"

No answer came out of the darkness, though his bellow echoed andre-echoed among the out-buildings and stables away on the left. 

He turned and looked at the Duke and said uneasily, "What on earth canthey be doing?"

"I can't conceive, " said the Duke. "I suppose we must go and hunt themout. "

"What! in this darkness, with these burglars about?" said themillionaire, starting back. 

"If we don't, nobody else will, " said the Duke. "And all the time thatrascal Lupin is stealing nearer and nearer your pictures. So buck up, and come along!"

He seized the reluctant millionaire by the arm and drew him down thesteps. They took their way to the stables. A dim light shone from theopen door of the motor-house. The Duke went into it first, and stoppedshort. 

"Well, I'll be hanged!" he cried, Instead of three cars the motor-house held but one--the hundredhorse-power Mercrac. It was a racing car, with only two seats. On themsat two figures, Jean and Firmin. 

"What are you sitting there for? You idle dogs!" bellowed themillionaire. 

Neither of the men answered, nor did they stir. The light from the lampgleamed on their fixed eyes, which stared at their infuriated master. 

"What on earth is this?" said the Duke; and seizing the lamp whichstood beside the car, he raised it so that its light fell on the twofigures. Then it was clear what had happened: they were trussed liketwo fowls, and gagged. 

The Duke pulled a penknife from his pocket, opened the blade, steppedinto the car and set Firmin free. Firmin coughed and spat and swore. The Duke cut the bonds of Jean. 

"Well, " said the Duke, in a tone of cutting irony, "what new game isthis? What have you been playing at?"

"It was those Charolais--those cursed Charolais!" growled Firmin. 

"They came on us unawares from behind, " said Jean. 

"They tied us up, and gagged us--the swine!" said Firmin. 

"And then--they went off in the two cars, " said Jean. 

"Went off in the two cars?" cried the millionaire, in blankstupefaction. 

The Duke burst into a shout of laughter. 

"Well, your dear friend Lupin doesn't do things by halves, " he cried. "This is the funniest thing I ever heard of. "

"Funny!" howled the millionaire. "Funny! Where does the fun come in?What about my pictures and the coronet?"

The Duke laughed his laugh out; then changed on the instant to a man ofaction. 

"Well, this means a change in our plans, " he said. "I must get to Parisin this car here. "

"It's such a rotten old thing, " said the millionaire. "You'll never doit. "

"Never mind, " said the Duke. "I've got to do it somehow. I daresay it'sbetter than you think. And after all, it's only a matter of two hundredmiles. " He paused, and then said in an anxious tone: "All the same Idon't like leaving you and Germaine in the chateau. --these rogues haveprobably only taken the cars out of reach just to prevent your gettingto Paris. They'll leave them in some field and come back. "

"You're not going to leave us behind. I wouldn't spend the night in thechateau for a million francs. There's always the train, " said themillionaire. 

"The train! Twelve hours in the train--with all those changes! Youdon't mean that you will actually go to Paris by train?" said the Duke. 

"I do, " said the millionaire. "Come along--I must go and tell Germaine;there's no time to waste, " and he hurried off to the chateau. 

"Get the lamps lighted, Jean, and make sure that the tank's full. Asfor the engine, I must humour it and trust to luck. I'll get her toParis somehow, " said the Duke. 

He went back to the chateau, and Firmin followed him. 

When the Duke came into the great hall he found Germaine and her fatherindulging in recriminations. She was declaring that nothing wouldinduce her to make the journey by train; her father was declaring thatshe should. He bore down her opposition by the mere force of hismagnificent voice. 

When at last there came a silence, Sonia said quietly: "But is there atrain? I know there's a train at midnight; but is there one before?"

"A time-table--where's a time-table?" said the millionaire. 

"Now, where did I see a time-table?" said the Duke. "Oh, I know;there's one in the drawer of that Oriental cabinet. " Crossing to thecabinet, he opened the drawer, took out the time-table, and handed itto M. Gournay-Martin. 

The millionaire took it and turned over the leaves quickly, ran his eyedown a page, and said, "Yes, thank goodness, there is a train. There'sone at a quarter to nine. "

"And what good is it to us? How are we to get to the station?" saidGermaine. 

They looked at one another blankly. Firmin, who had followed the Dukeinto the hall, came to the rescue. 

"There's the luggage-cart, " he said. 

"The luggage-cart!" cried Germaine contemptuously. 

"The very thing!" said the millionaire. "I'll drive it myself. Off yougo, Firmin; harness a horse to it. "

Firmin went clumping out of the hall. 

It was perhaps as well that he went, for the Duke asked what time itwas; and since the watches of Germaine and her father differed still, there ensued an altercation in which, had Firmin been there, he woulddoubtless have taken part. 

The Duke cut it short by saying: "Well, I don't think I'll wait to seeyou start for the station. It won't take you more than half an hour. The cart is light. You needn't start yet. I'd better get off as soon asthe car is ready. It isn't as though I could trust it. "

"One moment, " said Germaine. "Is there a dining-car on the train? I'mnot going to be starved as well as have my night's rest cut to pieces. "

"Of course there isn't a dining-car, " snapped her father. "We must eatsomething now, and take something with us. "

"Sonia, Irma, quick! Be off to the larder and see what you can find. Tell Mother Firmin to make an omelette. Be quick!"

Sonia went towards the door of the hall, followed by Irma. 

"Good-night, and bon voyage, Mademoiselle Sonia, " said the Duke. 

"Good-night, and bon voyage, your Grace, " said Sonia. 

The Duke opened the door of the hall for her; and as she went out, shesaid anxiously, in a low voice: "Oh, do--do be careful. I hate to thinkof your hurrying to Paris on a night like this. Please be careful. "

"I will be careful, " said the Duke. 

The honk of the motor-horn told him that Jean had brought the car tothe door of the chateau. He came down the room, kissed Germaine'shands, shook hands with the millionaire, and bade them good-night. Thenhe went out to the car. They heard it start; the rattle of it grewfainter and fainter down the long avenue and died away. 

M. Gournay-Martin arose, and began putting out lamps. As he did so, hekept casting fearful glances at the window, as if he feared lest, nowthat the Duke had gone, the burglars should dash in upon him. 

There came a knock at the door, and Jean appeared on the threshold. 

"His Grace told me that I was to come into the house, and help Firminlook after it, " he said. 

The millionaire gave him instructions about the guarding of the house. Firmin, since he was an old soldier, was to occupy the post of honour, and guard the hall, armed with his gun. Jean was to guard the twodrawing-rooms, as being less likely points of attack. He also was tohave a gun; and the millionaire went with him to the gun-room and gavehim one and a dozen cartridges. When they came back to the hall, Soniacalled them into the dining-room; and there, to the accompaniment of anunsubdued grumbling from Germaine at having to eat cold food at eightat night, they made a hasty but excellent meal, since the chef had leftan elaborate cold supper ready to be served. 

They had nearly finished it when Jean came in, his gun on his arm, tosay that Firmin had harnessed the horse to the luggage-cart, and it wasawaiting them at the door of the chateau. 

"Send him in to me, and stand by the horse till we come out, " said themillionaire. 

Firmin came clumping in. 

The millionaire gazed at him solemnly, and said: "Firmin, I am relyingon you. I am leaving you in a position of honour and danger--a positionwhich an old soldier of France loves. "

Firmin did his best to look like an old soldier of France. He pulledhimself up out of the slouch which long years of loafing through woodswith a gun on his arm had given him. He lacked also the old soldier ofFrance's fiery gaze. His eyes were lack-lustre. 

"I look for anything, Firmin--burglary, violence, an armed assault, "said the millionaire. 

"Don't be afraid, sir. I saw the war of '70, " said Firmin boldly, rising to the occasion. 

"Good!" said the millionaire. "I confide the chateau to you. I trustyou with my treasures. "

He rose, and saying "Come along, we must be getting to the station, " heled the way to the door of the chateau. 

The luggage-cart stood rather high, and they had to bring a chair outof the hall to enable the girls to climb into it. Germaine did notforget to give her real opinion of the advantages of a seat formed by aplank resting on the sides of the cart. The millionaire climbed heavilyup in front, and took the reins. 

"Never again will I trust only to motor-cars. The first thing I'll doafter I've made sure that my collections are safe will be to buycarriages--something roomy, " he said gloomily, as he realized thediscomfort of his seat. 

He turned to Jean and Firmin, who stood on the steps of the chateauwatching the departure of their master, and said: "Sons of France, bebrave--be brave!"

The cart bumped off into the damp, dark night. 

Jean and Firmin watched it disappear into the darkness. Then they cameinto the chateau and shut the door. 

Firmin looked at Jean, and said gloomily: "I don't like this. Theseburglars stick at nothing. They'd as soon cut your throat as look atyou. "

"It can't be helped, " said Jean. "Besides, you've got the post ofhonour. You guard the hall. I'm to look after the drawing-rooms. They're not likely to break in through the drawing-rooms. And I shalllock the door between them and the hall. "

"No, no; you won't lock that door!" cried Firmin. 

"But I certainly will, " said Jean. "You'd better come and get a gun. "

They went to the gun-room, Firmin still protesting against the lockingof the door between the drawing-rooms and the hall. He chose his gun;and they went into the kitchen. Jean took two bottles of wine, arich-looking pie, a sweet, and carried them to the drawing-room. Hecame back into the hall, gathered together an armful of papers andmagazines, and went back to the drawing-room. Firmin kept trottingafter him, like a little dog with a somewhat heavy footfall. 

On the threshold of the drawing-room Jean paused and said: "Theimportant thing with burglars is to fire first, old cock. Good-night. Pleasant dreams. "

He shut the door and turned the key. Firmin stared at the decoratedpanels blankly. The beauty of the scheme of decoration did not, at themoment, move him to admiration. 

He looked fearfully round the empty hall and at the windows, blackagainst the night. Under the patter of the rain he heardfootsteps--distinctly. He went hastily clumping down the hall, andalong the passage to the kitchen. 

His wife was setting his supper on the table. 

"My God!" he said. "I haven't been so frightened since '70. " And hemopped his glistening forehead with a dish-cloth. It was not a cleandish-cloth; but he did not care. 

"Frightened? What of?" said his wife. 

"Burglars! Cut-throats!" said Firmin. 

He told her of the fears of M. Gournay-Martin, and of his ownappointment to the honourable and dangerous post of guard of thechateau. 

"God save us!" said his wife. "You lock the door of that beastly hall, and come into the kitchen. Burglars won't bother about the kitchen. "

"But the master's treasures!" protested Firmin. "He confided them tome. He said so distinctly. "

"Let the master look after his treasures himself, " said Madame Firmin, with decision. "You've only one throat; and I'm not going to have itcut. You sit down and eat your supper. Go and lock that door first, though. "

Firmin locked the door of the hall; then he locked the door of thekitchen; then he sat down, and began to eat his supper. His appetitewas hearty, but none the less he derived little pleasure from the meal. He kept stopping with the food poised on his fork, midway between theplate and his mouth, for several seconds at a time, while he listenedwith straining ears for the sound of burglars breaking in the windowsof the hall. He was much too far from those windows to hear anythingthat happened to them, but that did not prevent him from straining hisears. Madame Firmin ate her supper with an air of perfect ease. Shefelt sure that burglars would not bother with the kitchen. 

Firmin's anxiety made him terribly thirsty. Tumbler after tumbler ofwine flowed down the throat for which he feared. When he had finishedhis supper he went on satisfying his thirst. Madame Firmin lighted hispipe for him, and went and washed up the supper-dishes in the scullery. Then she came back, and sat down on the other side of the hearth, facing him. About the middle of his third bottle of wine, Firmin'scold, relentless courage was suddenly restored to him. He began to talkfirmly about his duty to his master, his resolve to die, if need were, in defence of his interests, of his utter contempt forburglars--probably Parisians. But he did not go into the hall. Doubtless the pleasant warmth of the kitchen fire held him in his chair. 

He had described to his wife, with some ferocity, the cruel manner inwhich he would annihilate the first three burglars who entered thehall, and was proceeding to describe his method of dealing with thefourth, when there came a loud knocking on the front door of thechateau. 

Stricken silent, turned to stone, Firmin sat with his mouth open, inthe midst of an unfinished word. Madame Firmin scuttled to the kitchendoor she had left unlocked on her return from the scullery, and lockedit. She turned, and they stared at one another. 

The heavy knocker fell again and again and again. Between the knockingthere was a sound like the roaring of lions. Husband and wife stared atone another with white faces. Firmin picked up his gun with tremblinghands, and the movement seemed to set his teeth chattering. Theychattered like castanets. 

The knocking still went on, and so did the roaring. 

It had gone on at least for five minutes, when a slow gleam ofcomprehension lightened Madame Firmin's face. 

"I believe it's the master's voice, " she said. 

"The master's voice!" said Firmin, in a hoarse, terrified whisper. 

"Yes, " said Madame Firmin. And she unlocked the thick door and openedit a few inches. 

The barrier removed, the well-known bellow of the millionaire camedistinctly to their ears. Firmin's courage rushed upon him in fullflood. He clumped across the room, brushed his wife aside, and trottedto the door of the chateau. He unlocked it, drew the bolts, and threwit open. On the steps stood the millionaire, Germaine, and Sonia. Irmastood at the horse's head. 

"What the devil have you been doing?" bellowed the millionaire. "Whatdo you keep me standing in the rain for? Why didn't you let me in?"

"B-b-b-burglars--I thought you were b-b-b-burglars, " stammered Firmin. 

"Burglars!" howled the millionaire. "Do I sound like a burglar?"

At the moment he did not; he sounded more like a bull of Bashan. Hebustled past Firmin to the door of the hall. 

"Here! What's this locked for?" he bellowed. 

"I--I--locked it in case burglars should get in while I was opening thefront door, " stammered Firmin. 

The millionaire turned the key, opened the door, and went into thehall. Germaine followed him. She threw off her dripping coat, and saidwith some heat: "I can't conceive why you didn't make sure that therewas a train at a quarter to nine. I will not go to Paris to-night. Nothing shall induce me to take that midnight train!"

"Nonsense!" said the millionaire. "Nonsense--you'll have to go! Where'sthat infernal time-table?" He rushed to the table on to which he hadthrown the time-table after looking up the train, snatched it up, andlooked at the cover. "Why, hang it!" he cried. "It's for June--June, 1903!"

"Oh!" cried Germaine, almost in a scream. "It's incredible! It's one ofJacques' jokes!"

CHAPTER VIII

THE DUKE ARRIVES

The morning was gloomy, and the police-station with its bare, white-washed walls--their white expanse was only broken bynotice-boards to which were pinned portraits of criminals with detailsof their appearance, their crime, and the reward offered for theirapprehension--with its shabby furniture, and its dingy fireplace, presented a dismal and sordid appearance entirely in keeping with theSeptember grey. The inspector sat at his desk, yawning after a nightwhich had passed without an arrest. He was waiting to be relieved. Thepoliceman at the door and the two policemen sitting on a bench by thewall yawned in sympathy. 

The silence of the street was broken by the rattle of an uncommonlynoisy motor-car. It stopped before the door of the police-station, andthe eyes of the inspector and his men turned, idly expectant, to thedoor of the office. 

It opened, and a young man in motor-coat and cap stood on the threshold. 

He looked round the office with alert eyes, which took in everything, and said, in a brisk, incisive voice: "I am the Duke of Charmerace. Iam here on behalf of M. Gournay-Martin. Last evening he received aletter from Arsene Lupin saying he was going to break into his Parishouse this very morning. "

At the name of Arsene Lupin the inspector sprang from his chair, thepolicemen from their bench. On the instant they were wide awake, attentive, full of zeal. 

"The letter, your Grace!" said the inspector briskly. 

The Duke pulled off his glove, drew the letter from the breast-pocketof his under-coat, and handed it to the inspector. 

The inspector glanced through it, and said. "Yes, I know thehandwriting well. " Then he read it carefully, and added, "Yes, yes:it's his usual letter. "

"There's no time to be lost, " said the Duke quickly. "I ought to havebeen here hours ago-hours. I had a break-down. I'm afraid I'm too lateas it is. "

"Come along, your Grace--come along, you, " said the inspector briskly. 

The four of them hurried out of the office and down the steps of thepolice-station. In the roadway stood a long grey racing-car, caked withmuds--grey mud, brown mud, red mud--from end to end. It looked as if ithad brought samples of the soil of France from many districts. 

"Come along; I'll take you in the car. Your men can trot along besideus, " said the Duke to the inspector. 

He slipped into the car, the inspector jumped in and took the seatbeside him, and they started. They went slowly, to allow the twopolicemen to keep up with them. Indeed, the car could not have made anygreat pace, for the tyre of the off hind-wheel was punctured anddeflated. 

In three minutes they came to the Gournay-Martin house, a wide-frontedmass of undistinguished masonry, in an undistinguished row of exactlythe same pattern. There were no signs that any one was living in it. Blinds were drawn, shutters were up over all the windows, upper andlower. No smoke came from any of its chimneys, though indeed it wasfull early for that. 

Pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket, the Duke ran up the steps. Theinspector followed him. The Duke looked at the bunch, picked out thelatch-key, and fitted it into the lock. It did not open it. He drew itout and tried another key and another. The door remained locked. 

"Let me, your Grace, " said the inspector. "I'm more used to it. I shallbe quicker. "

The Duke handed the keys to him, and, one after another, the inspectorfitted them into the lock. It was useless. None of them opened the door. 

"They've given me the wrong keys, " said the Duke, with some vexation. "Or no--stay--I see what's happened. The keys have been changed. "

"Changed?" said the inspector. "When? Where?"

"Last night at Charmerace, " said the Duke. "M. Gournay-Martin declaredthat he saw a burglar slip out of one of the windows of the hall of thechateau, and we found the lock of the bureau in which the keys werekept broken. "

The inspector seized the knocker, and hammered on the door. 

"Try that door there, " he cried to his men, pointing to a side-door onthe right, the tradesmen's entrance, giving access to the back of thehouse. It was locked. There came no sound of movement in the house inanswer to the inspector's knocking. 

"Where's the concierge?" he said. 

The Duke shrugged his shoulders. "There's a housekeeper, too--a womannamed Victoire, " he said. "Let's hope we don't find them with theirthroats cut. "

"That isn't Lupin's way, " said the inspector. "They won't have come tomuch harm. "

"It's not very likely that they'll be in a position to open doors, "said the Duke drily. 

"Hadn't we better have it broken open and be done with it?"

The inspector hesitated. 

"People don't like their doors broken open, " he said. "And M. Gournay-Martin--"

"Oh, I'll take the responsibility of that, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, if you say so, your Grace, " said the inspector, with a briskrelief. "Henri, go to Ragoneau, the locksmith in the Rue Theobald. Bring him here as quickly as ever you can get him. "

"Tell him it's a couple of louis if he's here inside of ten minutes, "said the Duke. 

The policeman hurried off. The inspector bent down and searched thesteps carefully. He searched the roadway. The Duke lighted a cigaretteand watched him. The house of the millionaire stood next but one to thecorner of a street which ran at right angles to the one in which itstood, and the corner house was empty. The inspector searched the road, then he went round the corner. The other policeman went along the road, searching in the opposite direction. The Duke leant against the doorand smoked on patiently. He showed none of the weariness of a man whohas spent the night in a long and anxious drive in a rickety motor-car. His eyes were bright and clear; he looked as fresh as if he had comefrom his bed after a long night's rest. If he had not found the SouthPole, he had at any rate brought back fine powers of endurance from hisexpedition in search of it. 

The inspector came back, wearing a disappointed air. 

"Have you found anything?" said the Duke. 

"Nothing, " said the inspector. 

He came up the steps and hammered again on the door. No one answeredhis knock. There was a clatter of footsteps, and Henri and thelocksmith, a burly, bearded man, his bag of tools slung over hisshoulder, came hurrying up. He was not long getting to work, but it wasnot an easy job. The lock was strong. At the end of five minutes hesaid that he might spend an hour struggling with the lock itself;should he cut away a piece of the door round it?

"Cut away, " said the Duke. 

The locksmith changed his tools, and in less than three minutes he hadcut away a square piece from the door, a square in which the lock wasfixed, and taken it bodily away. 

The door opened. The inspector drew his revolver, and entered thehouse. The Duke followed him. The policemen drew their revolvers, andfollowed the Duke. The big hall was but dimly lighted. One of thepolicemen quickly threw back the shutters of the windows and let in thelight. The hall was empty, the furniture in perfect order; there wereno signs of burglary there. 

"The concierge?" said the inspector, and his men hurried through thelittle door on the right which opened into the concierge's rooms. Inhalf a minute one of them came out and said: "Gagged and bound, and hiswife too. "

"But the rooms which were to be plundered are upstairs, " said theDuke--"the big drawing-rooms on the first floor. Come on; we may bejust in time. The scoundrels may not yet have got away. "

He ran quickly up the stairs, followed by the inspector, and hurriedalong the corridor to the door of the big drawing-room. He threw itopen, and stopped dead on the threshold. He had arrived too late. 

The room was in disorder. Chairs were overturned, there were emptyspaces on the wall where the finest pictures of the millionaire hadbeen hung. The window facing the door was wide open. The shutters werebroken; one of them was hanging crookedly from only its bottom hinge. The top of a ladder rose above the window-sill, and beside it, astraddle the sill, was an Empire card-table, half inside the room, half out. On the hearth-rug, before a large tapestry fire-screen, whichmasked the wide fireplace, built in imitation of the big, widefireplaces of our ancestors, and rose to the level of thechimney-piece-a magnificent chimney-piece in carved oak-were somechairs tied together ready to be removed. 

The Duke and the inspector ran to the window, and looked down into thegarden. It was empty. At the further end of it, on the other side ofits wall, rose the scaffolding of a house a-building. The burglars hadfound every convenience to their hand-a strong ladder, an egressthrough the door in the garden wall, and then through the gap formed bythe house in process of erection, which had rendered them independentof the narrow passage between the walls of the gardens, which debouchedinto a side-street on the right. 

The Duke turned from the window, glanced at the wall opposite, then, asif something had caught his eye, went quickly to it. 

"Look here, " he said, and he pointed to the middle of one of the emptyspaces in which a picture had hung. 

There, written neatly in blue chalk, were the words:

ARSENE LUPIN

"This is a job for Guerchard, " said the inspector. "But I had betterget an examining magistrate to take the matter in hand first. " And heran to the telephone. 

The Duke opened the folding doors which led into the seconddrawing-room. The shutters of the windows were open, and it was plainthat Arsene Lupin had plundered it also of everything that had struckhis fancy. In the gaps between the pictures on the walls was again thesignature "Arsene Lupin. "

The inspector was shouting impatiently into the telephone, bidding aservant wake her master instantly. He did not leave the telephone tillhe was sure that she had done so, that her master was actually awake, and had been informed of the crime. The Duke sat down in an easy chairand waited for him. 

When he had finished telephoning, the inspector began to search the tworooms for traces of the burglars. He found nothing, not even afinger-mark. 

When he had gone through the two rooms he said, "The next thing to dois to find the house-keeper. She may be sleeping still--she may noteven have heard the noise of the burglars. "

"I find all this extremely interesting, " said the Duke; and he followedthe inspector out of the room. 

The inspector called up the two policemen, who had been freeing theconcierge and going through the rooms on the ground-floor. They did notthen examine any more of the rooms on the first floor to discover ifthey also had been plundered. They went straight up to the top of thehouse, the servants' quarters. 

The inspector called, "Victoire! Victoire!" two or three times; butthere was no answer. 

They opened the door of room after room and looked in, the inspectortaking the rooms on the right, the policemen the rooms on the left. 

"Here we are, " said one of the policemen. "This room's been recentlyoccupied. " They looked in, and saw that the bed was unmade. PlainlyVictoire had slept in it. 

"Where can she be?" said the Duke. 

"Be?" said the inspector. "I expect she's with the burglars--anaccomplice. "

"I gather that M. Gournay-Martin had the greatest confidence in her, "said the Duke. 

"He'll have less now, " said the inspector drily. "It's generally theconfidential ones who let their masters down. "

The inspector and his men set about a thorough search of the house. They found the other rooms undisturbed. In half an hour they hadestablished the fact that the burglars had confined their attention tothe two drawing-rooms. They found no traces of them; and they did notfind Victoire. The concierge could throw no light on her disappearance. He and his wife had been taken by surprise in their sleep and in thedark. 

They had been gagged and bound, they declared, without so much ashaving set eyes on their assailants. The Duke and the inspector cameback to the plundered drawing-room. 

The inspector looked at his watch and went to the telephone. 

"I must let the Prefecture know, " he said. 

"Be sure you ask them to send Guerchard, " said the Duke. 

"Guerchard?" said the inspector doubtfully. 

"M. Formery, the examining magistrate, does not get on very well withGuerchard. "

"What sort of a man is M. Formery? Is he capable?" said the Duke. 

"Oh, yes--yes. He's very capable, " said the inspector quickly. "But hedoesn't have very good luck. "

"M. Gournay-Martin particularly asked me to send for Guerchard if Iarrived too late, and found the burglary already committed, " said theDuke. "It seems that there is war to the knife between Guerchard andthis Arsene Lupin. In that case Guerchard will leave no stone unturnedto catch the rascal and recover the stolen treasures. M. Gournay-Martinfelt that Guerchard was the man for this piece of work very stronglyindeed. "

"Very good, your Grace, " said the inspector. And he rang up thePrefecture of Police. 

The Duke heard him report the crime and ask that Guerchard should besent. The official in charge at the moment seemed to make some demur. 

The Duke sprang to his feet, and said in an anxious tone, "Perhaps I'dbetter speak to him myself. "

He took his place at the telephone and said, "I am the Duke ofCharmerace. M. Gournay-Martin begged me to secure the services of M. Guerchard. He laid the greatest stress on my securing them, if onreaching Paris I found that the crime had already been committed. "

The official at the other end of the line hesitated. He did not refuseon the instant as he had refused the inspector. It may be that hereflected that M. Gournay-Martin was a millionaire and a man ofinfluence; that the Duke of Charmerace was a Duke; that he, at anyrate, had nothing whatever to gain by running counter to their wishes. He said that Chief-Inspector Guerchard was not at the Prefecture, thathe was off duty; that he would send down two detectives, who were onduty, at once, and summon Chief-Inspector Guerchard with all speed. TheDuke thanked him and rang off. 

"That's all right, " he said cheerfully, turning to the inspector. "Whattime will M. Formery be here?"

"Well, I don't expect him for another hour, " said the inspector. "Hewon't come till he's had his breakfast. He always makes a goodbreakfast before setting out to start an inquiry, lest he shouldn'tfind time to make one after he's begun it. "

"Breakfast--breakfast--that's a great idea, " said the Duke. "Now youcome to remind me, I'm absolutely famished. I got some supper on my waylate last night; but I've had nothing since. I suppose nothinginteresting will happen till M. Formery comes; and I may as well getsome food. But I don't want to leave the house. I think I'll see whatthe concierge can do for me. "

So saying, he went downstairs and interviewed the concierge. Theconcierge seemed to be still doubtful whether he was standing on hishead or his heels, but he undertook to supply the needs of the Duke. The Duke gave him a louis, and he hurried off to get food from arestaurant. 

The Duke went upstairs to the bathroom and refreshed himself with acold bath. By the time he had bathed and dressed the concierge had ameal ready for him in the dining-room. He ate it with the heartiestappetite. Then he sent out for a barber and was shaved. 

He then repaired to the pillaged drawing-room, disposed himself in themost restful attitude on a sofa, and lighted an excellent cigar. In themiddle of it the inspector came to him. He was not wearing a verycheerful air; and he told the Duke that he had found no clue to theperpetrators of the crime, though M. Dieusy and M. Bonavent, thedetectives from the Prefecture of Police, had joined him in the search. 

The Duke was condoling with him on this failure when they heard aknocking at the front door, and then voices on the stairs. 

"Ah! Here is M. Formery!" said the inspector cheerfully. "Now we canget on. "

CHAPTER IX

M. FORMERY OPENS THE INQUIRY

The examining magistrate came into the room. He was a plump and pinklittle man, with very bright eyes. His bristly hair stood up straightall over his head, giving it the appearance of a broad, dapple-greyclothes-brush. He appeared to be of the opinion that Nature had giventhe world the toothbrush as a model of what a moustache should be; andhis own was clipped to that pattern. 

"The Duke of Charmerace, M. Formery, " said the inspector. 

The little man bowed and said, "Charmed, charmed to make youracquaintance, your Grace--though the occasion--the occasion is somewhatpainful. The treasures of M. Gournay-Martin are known to all the world. France will deplore his losses. " He paused, and added hastily, "But weshall recover them--we shall recover them. "

The Duke rose, bowed, and protested his pleasure at making theacquaintance of M. Formery. 

"Is this the scene of the robbery, inspector?" said M. Formery; and herubbed his hands together with a very cheerful air. 

"Yes, sir, " said the inspector. "These two rooms seem to be the onlyones touched, though of course we can't tell till M. Gournay-Martinarrives. Jewels may have been stolen from the bedrooms. "

"I fear that M. Gournay-Martin won't be of much help for some days, "said the Duke. "When I left him he was nearly distracted; and he won'tbe any better after a night journey to Paris from Charmerace. Butprobably these are the only two rooms touched, for in them M. Gournay-Martin had gathered together the gems of his collection. Overthe doors hung some pieces of Flemish tapestry--marvels--thecomposition admirable--the colouring delightful. "

"It is easy to see that your Grace was very fond of them, " said M. Formery. 

"I should think so, " said the Duke. "I looked on them as alreadybelonging to me, for my father-in-law was going to give them to me as awedding present. "

"A great loss--a great loss. But we will recover them, sooner or later, you can rest assured of it. I hope you have touched nothing in thisroom. If anything has been moved it may put me off the scentaltogether. Let me have the details, inspector. "

The inspector reported the arrival of the Duke at the police-stationwith Arsene Lupin's letter to M. Gournay-Martin; the discovery that thekeys had been changed and would not open the door of the house; theopening of it by the locksmith; the discovery of the concierge and hiswife gagged and bound. 

"Probably accomplices, " said M. Formery. 

"Does Lupin always work with accomplices?" said the Duke. "Pardon myignorance--but I've been out of France for so long--before he attainedto this height of notoriety. "

"Lupin--why Lupin?" said M. Formery sharply. 

"Why, there is the letter from Lupin which my future father-in-lawreceived last night; its arrival was followed by the theft of his twoswiftest motor-cars; and then, these signatures on the wall here, " saidthe Duke in some surprise at the question. 

"Lupin! Lupin! Everybody has Lupin on the brain!" said M. Formeryimpatiently. "I'm sick of hearing his name. This letter and thesesignatures are just as likely to be forgeries as not. "

"I wonder if Guerchard will take that view, " said the Duke. 

"Guerchard? Surely we're not going to be cluttered up with Guerchard. He has Lupin on the brain worse than any one else. "

"But M. Gournay-Martin particularly asked me to send for Guerchard if Iarrived too late to prevent the burglary. He would never forgive me ifI had neglected his request: so I telephoned for him--to the Prefectureof Police, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, well, if you've already telephoned for him. But it wasunnecessary--absolutely unnecessary, " said M. Formery sharply. 

"I didn't know, " said the Duke politely. 

"Oh, there was no harm in it--it doesn't matter, " said M. Formery in adiscontented tone with a discontented air. 

He walked slowly round the room, paused by the windows, looked at theladder, and scanned the garden:

"Arsene Lupin, " he said scornfully. "Arsene Lupin doesn't leave tracesall over the place. There's nothing but traces. Are we going to havethat silly Lupin joke all over again?"

"I think, sir, that this time joke is the word, for this is a burglarypure and simple, " said the inspector. 

"Yes, it's plain as daylight, " said M. Formery "The burglars came in bythis window, and they went out by it. "

He crossed the room to a tall safe which stood before the unused door. The safe was covered with velvet, and velvet curtains hung before itsdoor. He drew the curtains, and tried the handle of the door of thesafe. It did not turn; the safe was locked. 

"As far as I can see, they haven't touched this, " said M. Formery. 

"Thank goodness for that, " said the Duke. "I believe, or at least myfiancee does, that M. Gournay-Martin keeps the most precious thing inhis collection in that safe--the coronet. "

"What! the famous coronet of the Princesse de Lamballe?" said M. Formery. 

"Yes, " said the Duke. 

"But according to your report, inspector, the letter signed 'Lupin'announced that he was going to steal the coronet also. "

"It did--in so many words, " said the Duke. 

"Well, here is a further proof that we're not dealing with Lupin. Thatrascal would certainly have put his threat into execution, M. Formery, "said the inspector. 

"Who's in charge of the house?" said M. Formery. 

"The concierge, his wife, and a housekeeper--a woman named Victoire, "said the inspector. 

"I'll see to the concierge and his wife presently. I've sent one ofyour men round for their dossier. When I get it I'll question them. Youfound them gagged and bound in their bedroom?"

"Yes, M. Formery; and always this imitation of Lupin--a yellow gag, blue cords, and the motto, 'I take, therefore I am, ' on a scrap ofcardboard--his usual bag of tricks. "

"Then once again they're going to touch us up in the papers. It's anyodds on it, " said M. Formery gloomily. "Where's the housekeeper? Ishould like to see her. "

"The fact is, we don't know where she is, " said the inspector. 

"You don't know where she is?" said M. Formery. 

"We can't find her anywhere, " said the inspector. 

"That's excellent, excellent. We've found the accomplice, " said M. Formery with lively delight; and he rubbed his hands together. "Atleast, we haven't found her, but we know her. "

"I don't think that's the case, " said the Duke. "At least, my futurefather-in-law and my fiancee had both of them the greatest confidencein her. Yesterday she telephoned to us at the Chateau de Charmerace. All the jewels were left in her charge, and the wedding presents asthey were sent in. "

"And these jewels and wedding presents--have they been stolen too?"said M. Formery. 

"They don't seem to have been touched, " said the Duke, "though ofcourse we can't tell till M. Gournay-Martin arrives. As far as I cansee, the burglars have only touched these two drawing-rooms. "

"That's very annoying, " said M. Formery. 

"I don't find it so, " said the Duke, smiling. 

"I was looking at it from the professional point of view, " said M. Formery. He turned to the inspector and added, "You can't have searchedthoroughly. This housekeeper must be somewhere about--if she's reallytrustworthy. Have you looked in every room in the house?"

"In every room--under every bed--in every corner and every cupboard, "said the inspector. 

"Bother!" said M. Formery. "Are there no scraps of torn clothes, noblood-stains, no traces of murder, nothing of interest?"

"Nothing!" said the inspector. 

"But this is very regrettable, " said M. Formery. "Where did she sleep?Was her bed unmade?"

"Her room is at the top of the house, " said the inspector. "The bed hadbeen slept in, but she does not appear to have taken away any of herclothes. "

"Extraordinary! This is beginning to look a very complicated business, "said M. Formery gravely. 

"Perhaps Guerchard will be able to throw a little more light on it, "said the Duke. 

M. Formery frowned and said, "Yes, yes. Guerchard is a good assistantin a business like this. A little visionary, a littlefanciful--wrong-headed, in fact; but, after all, he IS Guerchard. Only, since Lupin is his bugbear, he's bound to find some means of muddlingus up with that wretched animal. You're going to see Lupin mixed upwith all this to a dead certainty, your Grace. "

The Duke looked at the signatures on the wall. "It seems to me that heis pretty well mixed up with it already, " he said quietly. 

"Believe me, your Grace, in a criminal affair it is, above all things, necessary to distrust appearances. I am growing more and more confidentthat some ordinary burglars have committed this crime and are trying toput us off the scent by diverting our attention to Lupin. "

The Duke stooped down carelessly and picked up a book which had fallenfrom a table. 

"Excuse me, but please--please--do not touch anything, " said M. Formeryquickly. 

"Why, this is odd, " said the Duke, staring at the floor. 

"What is odd?" said M. Formery. 

"Well, this book looks as if it had been knocked off the table by oneof the burglars. And look here; here's a footprint under it--afootprint on the carpet, " said the Duke. 

M. Formery and the inspector came quickly to the spot. There, where thebook had fallen, plainly imprinted on the carpet, was a whitefootprint. M. Formery and the inspector stared at it. 

"It looks like plaster. How did plaster get here?" said M. Formery, frowning at it. 

"Well, suppose the robbers came from the garden, " said the Duke. 

"Of course they came from the garden, your Grace. Where else shouldthey come from?" said M. Formery, with a touch of impatience in histone. 

"Well, at the end of the garden they're building a house, " said theDuke. 

"Of course, of course, " said M. Formery, taking him up quickly. "Theburglars came here with their boots covered with plaster. They've sweptaway all the other marks of their feet from the carpet; but whoever didthe sweeping was too slack to lift up that book and sweep under it. This footprint, however, is not of great importance, though it iscorroborative of all the other evidence we have that they came and wentby the garden. There's the ladder, and that table half out of thewindow. Still, this footprint may turn out useful, after all. You hadbetter take the measurements of it, inspector. Here's a foot-rule foryou. I make a point of carrying this foot-rule about with me, yourGrace. You would be surprised to learn how often it has come in useful. "

He took a little ivory foot-rule from his waist-coat pocket, and gaveit to the inspector, who fell on his knees and measured the footprintwith the greatest care. 

"I must take a careful look at that house they're building. I shallfind a good many traces there, to a dead certainty, " said M. Formery. 

The inspector entered the measurements of the footprint in hisnote-book. There came the sound of a knocking at the front door. 

"I shall find footprints of exactly the same dimensions as this one atthe foot of some heap of plaster beside that house, " said M. Formery;with an air of profound conviction, pointing through the window to thehouse building beyond the garden. 

A policeman opened the door of the drawing-room and saluted. 

"If you please, sir, the servants have arrived from Charmerace, " hesaid. 

"Let them wait in the kitchen and the servants' offices, " said M. Formery. He stood silent, buried in profound meditation, for a coupleof minutes. Then he turned to the Duke and said, "What was that yousaid about a theft of motor-cars at Charmerace?"

"When he received the letter from Arsene Lupin, M. Gournay-Martindecided to start for Paris at once, " said the Duke. "But when we sentfor the cars we found that they had just been stolen. M. Gournay-Martin's chauffeur and another servant were in the garagegagged and bound. Only an old car, a hundred horse-power Mercrac, wasleft. I drove it to Paris, leaving M. Gournay-Martin and his family tocome on by train. "

"Very important--very important indeed, " said M. Formery. He thoughtfor a moment, and then added. "Were the motor-cars the only thingsstolen? Were there no other thefts?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, there was another theft, or rather anattempt at theft, " said the Duke with some hesitation. "The rogues whostole the motor-cars presented themselves at the chateau under the nameof Charolais--a father and three sons--on the pretext of buying thehundred-horse-power Mercrac. M. Gournay-Martin had advertised it forsale in the Rennes Advertiser. They were waiting in the big hall of thechateau, which the family uses as the chief living-room, for the returnof M. Gournay-Martin. He came; and as they left the hall one of themattempted to steal a pendant set with pearls which I had given toMademoiselle Gournay-Martin half an hour before. I caught him in theact and saved the pendant. "

"Good! good! Wait--we have one of the gang--wait till I question him, "said M. Formery, rubbing his hands; and his eyes sparkled with joy. 

"Well, no; I'm afraid we haven't, " said the Duke in an apologetic tone. 

"What! We haven't? Has he escaped from the police? Oh, those countrypolice!" cried M. Formery. 

"No; I didn't charge him with the theft, " said the Duke. 

"You didn't charge him with the theft?" cried M. Formery, astounded. 

"No; he was very young and he begged so hard. I had the pendant. I lethim go, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, your Grace, your Grace! Your duty to society!" cried M. Formery. 

"Yes, it does seem to have been rather weak, " said the Duke; "but thereyou are. It's no good crying over spilt milk. "

M. Formery folded his arms and walked, frowning, backwards and forwardsacross the room. 

He stopped, raised his hand with a gesture commanding attention, andsaid, "I have no hesitation in saying that there is a connection--anintimate connection--between the thefts at Charmerace and thisburglary!"

The Duke and the inspector gazed at him with respectful eyes--at least, the eyes of the inspector were respectful; the Duke's eyes twinkled. 

"I am gathering up the threads, " said M. Formery. "Inspector, bring upthe concierge and his wife. I will question them on the scene of thecrime. Their dossier should be here. If it is, bring it up with them;if not, no matter; bring them up without it. "

The inspector left the drawing-room. M. Formery plunged at once intofrowning meditation. 

"I find all this extremely interesting, " said the Duke. 

"Charmed! Charmed!" said M. Formery, waving his hand with anabsent-minded air. 

The inspector entered the drawing-room followed by the concierge andhis wife. He handed a paper to M. Formery. The concierge, a bearded manof about sixty, and his wife, a somewhat bearded woman of aboutfifty-five, stared at M. Formery with fascinated, terrified eyes. Hesat down in a chair, crossed his legs, read the paper through, and thenscrutinized them keenly. 

"Well, have you recovered from your adventure?" he said. 

"Oh, yes, sir, " said the concierge. "They hustled us a bit, but theydid not really hurt us. "

"Nothing to speak of, that is, " said his wife. "But all the same, it'sa disgraceful thing that an honest woman can't sleep in peace in herbed of a night without being disturbed by rascals like that. And if thepolice did their duty things like this wouldn't happen. And I don'tcare who hears me say it. "

"You say that you were taken by surprise in your sleep?" said M. Formery. "You say you saw nothing, and heard nothing?"

"There was no time to see anything or hear anything. They trussed us uplike greased lightning, " said the concierge. 

"But the gag was the worst, " said the wife. "To lie there and not beable to tell the rascals what I thought about them!"

"Didn't you hear the noise of footsteps in the garden?" said M. Formery. 

"One can't hear anything that happens in the garden from our bedroom, "said the concierge. 

"Even the night when Mlle. Germaine's great Dane barked from twelveo'clock till seven in the morning, all the household was kept awakeexcept us; but bless you, sir, we slept like tops, " said his wifeproudly. 

"If they sleep like that it seems rather a waste of time to have gaggedthem, " whispered the Duke to the inspector. 

The inspector grinned, and whispered scornfully, "Oh, them commonfolks; they do sleep like that, your Grace. "

"Didn't you hear any noise at the front door?" said M. Formery. 

"No, we heard no noise at the door, " said the concierge. 

"Then you heard no noise at all the whole night?" said M. Formery. 

"Oh, yes, sir, we heard noise enough after we'd been gagged, " said theconcierge. 

"Now, this is important, " said M. Formery. "What kind of a noise wasit?"

"Well, it was a bumping kind of noise, " said the concierge. "And therewas a noise of footsteps, walking about the room. "

"What room? Where did these noises come from?" said M. Formery. 

"From the room over our heads--the big drawing-room, " said theconcierge. 

"Didn't you hear any noise of a struggle, as if somebody was beingdragged about--no screaming or crying?" said M. Formery. 

The concierge and his wife looked at one another with inquiring eyes. 

"No, I didn't, " said the concierge. 

"Neither did I, " said his wife. 

M. Formery paused. Then he said, "How long have you been in the serviceof M. Gournay-Martin?"

"A little more than a year, " said the concierge. 

M. Formery looked at the paper in his hand, frowned, and said severely, "I see you've been convicted twice, my man. "

"Yes, sir, but--"

"My husband's an honest man, sir--perfectly honest, " broke in his wife. "You've only to ask M. Gournay-Martin; he'll--"

"Be so good as to keep quiet, my good woman, " said M. Formery; and, turning to her husband, he went on: "At your first conviction you weresentenced to a day's imprisonment with costs; at your second convictionyou got three days' imprisonment. "

"I'm not going to deny it, sir, " said the concierge; "but it was anhonourable imprisonment. "

"Honourable?" said M. Formery. 

"The first time, I was a gentleman's servant, and I got a day'simprisonment for crying, 'Hurrah for the General Strike!'--on the firstof May. "

"You were a valet? In whose service?" said M. Formery. 

"In the service of M. Genlis, the Socialist leader. "

"And your second conviction?" said M. Formery. 

"It was for having cried in the porch of Ste. Clotilde, 'Down with thecows!'--meaning the police, sir, " said the concierge. 

"And were you in the service of M. Genlis then?" said M. Formery. 

"No, sir; I was in the service of M. Bussy-Rabutin, the Royalistdeputy. "

"You don't seem to have very well-defined political convictions, " saidM. Formery. 

"Oh, yes, sir, I have, " the concierge protested. "I'm always devoted tomy masters; and I have the same opinions that they have--always. "

"Very good; you can go, " said M. Formery. 

The concierge and his wife left the room, looking as if they did notquite know whether to feel relieved or not. 

"Those two fools are telling the exact truth, unless I'm very muchmistaken, " said M. Formery. 

"They look honest enough people, " said the Duke. 

"Well, now to examine the rest of the house, " said M. Formery. 

"I'll come with you, if I may, " said the Duke. 

"By all means, by all means, " said M. Formery. 

"I find it all so interesting, " said the Duke, CHAPTER X

GUERCHARD ASSISTS

Leaving a policeman on guard at the door of the drawing-room M. Formery, the Duke, and the inspector set out on their tour ofinspection. It was a long business, for M. Formery examined every roomwith the most scrupulous care--with more care, indeed, than he haddisplayed in his examination of the drawing-rooms. In particular helingered long in the bedroom of Victoire, discussing the possibilitiesof her having been murdered and carried away by the burglars along withtheir booty. He seemed, if anything, disappointed at finding noblood-stains, but to find real consolation in the thought that shemight have been strangled. He found the inspector in entire agreementwith every theory he enunciated, and he grew more and more disposed toregard him as a zealous and trustworthy officer. Also he was not at alldispleased at enjoying this opportunity of impressing the Duke with hispowers of analysis and synthesis. He was unaware that, as a rule, theDuke's eyes did not usually twinkle as they twinkled during this solemnand deliberate progress through the house of M. Gournay-Martin. M. Formery had so exactly the air of a sleuthhound; and he was evennoisier. 

Having made this thorough examination of the house, M. Formery went outinto the garden and set about examining that. There were footprints onthe turf about the foot of the ladder, for the grass was close-clipped, and the rain had penetrated and softened the soil; but there werehardly as many footprints as might have been expected, seeing that theburglars must have made many journeys in the course of robbing thedrawing-rooms of so many objects of art, some of them of considerableweight. The footprints led to a path of hard gravel; and M. Formery ledthe way down it, out of the door in the wall at the bottom of thegarden, and into the space round the house which was being built. 

As M. Formery had divined, there was a heap, or, to be exact, therewere several heaps of plaster about the bottom of the scaffolding. Unfortunately, there were also hundreds of footprints. M. Formerylooked at them with longing eyes; but he did not suggest that theinspector should hunt about for a set of footprints of the size of theone he had so carefully measured on the drawing-room carpet. 

While they were examining the ground round the half-built house a mancame briskly down the stairs from the second floor of the house of M. Gournay-Martin. He was an ordinary-looking man, almost insignificant, of between forty and fifty, and of rather more than middle height. Hehad an ordinary, rather shapeless mouth, an ordinary nose, an ordinarychin, an ordinary forehead, rather low, and ordinary ears. He waswearing an ordinary top-hat, by no means new. His clothes were theordinary clothes of a fairly well-to-do citizen; and his boots had beenchosen less to set off any slenderness his feet might possess than fortheir comfortable roominess. Only his eyes relieved his face frominsignificance. They were extraordinarily alert eyes, producing inthose on whom they rested the somewhat uncomfortable impression thatthe depths of their souls were being penetrated. He was the famousChief-Inspector Guerchard, head of the Detective Department of thePrefecture of Police, and sworn foe of Arsene Lupin. 

The policeman at the door of the drawing-room saluted him briskly. Hewas a fine, upstanding, red-faced young fellow, adorned by a rich blackmoustache of extraordinary fierceness. 

"Shall I go and inform M. Formery that you have come, M. Guerchard?" hesaid. 

"No, no; there's no need to take the trouble, " said Guerchard in agentle, rather husky voice. "Don't bother any one about me--I'm of noimportance. "

"Oh, come, M. Guerchard, " protested the policeman. 

"Of no importance, " said M. Guerchard decisively. "For the present, M. Formery is everything. I'm only an assistant. "

He stepped into the drawing-room and stood looking about it, curiouslystill. It was almost as if the whole of his being was concentrated inthe act of seeing--as if all the other functions of his mind and bodywere in suspension. 

"M. Formery and the inspector have just been up to examine thehousekeeper's room. It's right at the top of the house--on the secondfloor. You take the servants' staircase. Then it's right at the end ofthe passage on the left. Would you like me to take you up to it, sir?"said the policeman eagerly. His heart was in his work. 

"Thank you, I know where it is--I've just come from it, " said Guerchardgently. 

A grin of admiration widened the already wide mouth of the policeman, and showed a row of very white, able-looking teeth. 

"Ah, M. Guerchard!" he said, "you're cleverer than all the examiningmagistrates in Paris put together!"

"You ought not to say that, my good fellow. I can't prevent youthinking it, of course; but you ought not to say it, " said Guerchardwith husky gentleness; and the faintest smile played round the cornersof his mouth. 

He walked slowly to the window, and the policeman walked with him. 

"Have you noticed this, sir?" said the policeman, taking hold of thetop of the ladder with a powerful hand. "It's probable that theburglars came in and went away by this ladder. "

"Thank you, " said Guerchard. 

"They have even left this card-table on the window-sill, " said thepoliceman; and he patted the card-table with his other powerful hand. 

"Thank you, thank you, " said Guerchard. 

"They don't think it's Lupin's work at all, " said the policeman. "Theythink that Lupin's letter announcing the burglary and these signatureson the walls are only a ruse. "

"Is that so?" said Guerchard. 

"Is there any way I can help you, sir?" said policeman. 

"Yes, " said Guerchard. "Take up your post outside that door and admitno one but M. Formery, the inspector, Bonavent, or Dieusy, withoutconsulting me. " And he pointed to the drawing-room door. 

"Shan't I admit the Duke of Charmerace? He's taking a great interest inthis affair, " said the policeman. 

"The Duke of Charmerace? Oh, yes--admit the Duke of Charmerace, " saidGuerchard. 

The policeman went to his post of responsibility, a proud man. 

Hardly had the door closed behind him when Guerchard was allactivity--activity and eyes. He examined the ladder, the gaps on thewall from which the pictures had been taken, the signatures of ArseneLupin. The very next thing he did was to pick up the book which theDuke had set on the top of the footprint again, to preserve it; and hemeasured, pacing it, the distance between the footprint and the window. 

The result of this measuring did not appear to cause him anysatisfaction, for he frowned, measured the distance again, and thenstared out of the window with a perplexed air, thinking hard. It wascurious that, when he concentrated himself on a process of reasoning, his eves seemed to lose something of their sharp brightness and grew alittle dim. 

At last he seemed to come to some conclusion. He turned away from thewindow, drew a small magnifying-glass from his pocket, dropped on hishands and knees, and began to examine the surface of the carpet withthe most minute care. 

He examined a space of it nearly six feet square, stopped, and gazedround the room. His eyes rested on the fireplace, which he could seeunder the bottom of the big tapestried fire-screen which was raised onlegs about a foot high, fitted with big casters. His eyes filled withinterest; without rising, he crawled quickly across the room, peepedround the edge of the screen and rose, smiling. 

He went on to the further drawing-room and made the same carefulexamination of it, again examining a part of the surface of the carpetwith his magnifying-glass. He came back to the window to which theladder had been raised and examined very carefully the broken shutter. He whistled softly to himself, lighted a cigarette, and leant againstthe side of the window. He looked out of it, with dull eyes which sawnothing, the while his mind worked upon the facts he had discovered. 

He had stood there plunged in reflection for perhaps ten minutes, whenthere came a sound of voices and footsteps on the stairs. He awoke fromhis absorption, seemed to prick his ears, then slipped a leg over thewindow-ledge, and disappeared from sight down the ladder. 

The door opened, and in came M. Formery, the Duke, and the inspector. M. Formery looked round the room with eyes which seemed to expect tomeet a familiar sight, then walked to the other drawing-room and lookedround that. He turned to the policeman, who had stepped inside thedrawing-room, and said sharply, "M. Guerchard is not here. "

"I left him here, " said the policeman. "He must have disappeared. He'sa wonder. "

"Of course, " said M. Formery. "He has gone down the ladder to examinethat house they're building. He's just following in our tracks anddoing all over again the work we've already done. He might have savedhimself the trouble. We could have told him all he wants to know. Butthere! He very likely would not be satisfied till he had seeneverything for himself. "

"He may see something which we have missed, " said the Duke. 

M. Formery frowned, and said sharply "That's hardly likely. I don'tthink that your Grace realizes to what a perfection constant practicebrings one's power of observation. The inspector and I will cheerfullyeat anything we've missed--won't we, inspector?" And he laughedheartily at his joke. 

"It might always prove a large mouthful, " said the Duke with anironical smile. 

M. Formery assumed his air of profound reflection, and walked a fewsteps up and down the room, frowning:

"The more I think about it, " he said, "the clearer it grows that wehave disposed of the Lupin theory. This is the work of far less expertrogues than Lupin. What do you think, inspector?"

"Yes; I think you have disposed of that theory, sir, " said theinspector with ready acquiescence. 

"All the same, I'd wager anything that we haven't disposed of it to thesatisfaction of Guerchard, " said M. Formery. 

"Then he must be very hard to satisfy, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, in any other matter he's open to reason, " said M. Formery; "butLupin is his fixed idea; it's an obsession--almost a mania. "

"But yet he never catches him, " said the Duke. 

"No; and he never will. His very obsession by Lupin hampers him. Itcramps his mind and hinders its working, " said M. Formery. 

He resumed his meditative pacing, stopped again, and said:

"But considering everything, especially the absence of any traces ofviolence, combined with her entire disappearance, I have come toanother conclusion. Victoire is the key to the mystery. She is theaccomplice. She never slept in her bed. She unmade it to put us off thescent. That, at any rate, is something gained, to have found theaccomplice. We shall have this good news, at least, to tell M, Gournay-Martin on his arrival. "

"Do you really think that she's the accomplice?" said the Duke. 

"I'm dead sure of it, " said M. Formery. "We will go up to her room andmake another thorough examination of it. "

Guerchard's head popped up above the window-sill:

"My dear M. Formery, " he said, "I beg that you will not take thetrouble. "

M. Formery's mouth opened: "What! You, Guerchard?" he stammered. 

"Myself, " said Guerchard; and he came to the top of the ladder andslipped lightly over the window-sill into the room. 

He shook hands with M. Formery and nodded to the inspector. Then helooked at the Duke with an air of inquiry. 

"Let me introduce you, " said M. Formery. "Chief-Inspector Guerchard, head of the Detective Department--the Duke of Charmerace. "

The Duke shook hands with Guerchard, saying, "I'm delighted to makeyour acquaintance, M. Guerchard. I've been expecting your coming withthe greatest interest. Indeed it was I who begged the officials at thePrefecture of Police to put this case in your hands. I insisted on it. "

"What were you doing on that ladder?" said M. Formery, giving Guerchardno time to reply to the Duke. 

"I was listening, " said Guerchard simply--"listening. I like to hearpeople talk when I'm engaged on a case. It's a distraction--and ithelps. I really must congratulate you, my dear M. Formery, on theadmirable manner in which you have conducted this inquiry. "

M. Formery bowed, and regarded him with a touch of suspicion. 

"There are one or two minor points on which we do not agree, but on thewhole your method has been admirable, " said Guerchard. 

"Well, about Victoire, " said M. Formery. "You're quite sure that anexamination, a more thorough examination, of her room, is unnecessary?"

"Yes, I think so, " said Guerchard. "I have just looked at it myself. "

The door opened, and in came Bonavent, one of the detectives who hadcome earlier from the Prefecture. In his hand he carried a scrap ofcloth. 

He saluted Guerchard, and said to M. Formery, "I have just found thisscrap of cloth on the edge of the well at the bottom of the garden. Theconcierge's wife tells me that it has been torn from Victoire's dress. "

"I feared it, " said M. Formery, taking the scrap of cloth from Mm. "Ifeared foul play. We must go to the well at once, send some one downit, or have it dragged. "

He was moving hastily to the door, when Guerchard said, in his husky, gentle voice, "I don't think there is any need to look for Victoire inthe well. "

"But this scrap of cloth, " said M. Formery, holding it out to him. 

"Yes, yes, that scrap of cloth, " said Guerchard. And, turning to theDuke, he added, "Do you know if there's a dog or cat in the house, yourGrace? I suppose that, as the fiance of Mademoiselle Gournay-Martin, you are familiar with the house?"

"What on earth--" said M. Formery. 

"Excuse me, " interrupted Guerchard. "But this is important--veryimportant. "

"Yes, there is a cat, " said the Duke. "I've seen a cat at the door ofthe concierge's rooms. "

"It must have been that cat which took this scrap of cloth to the edgeof the well, " said Guerchard gravely. 

"This is ridiculous--preposterous!" cried M. Formery, beginning toflush. "Here we're dealing with a most serious crime--a murder--themurder of Victoire--and you talk about cats!"

"Victoire has not been murdered, " said Guerchard; and his husky voicewas gentler than ever, only just audible. 

"But we don't know that--we know nothing of the kind, " said M. Formery. 

"I do, " said Guerchard. 

"You?" said M. Formery. 

"Yes, " said Guerchard. 

"Then how do you explain her disappearance?"

"If she had disappeared I shouldn't explain it, " said Guerchard. 

"But since she has disappeared?" cried M. Formery, in a tone ofexasperation. 

"She hasn't, " said Guerchard. 

"You know nothing about it!" cried M. Formery, losing his temper. 

"Yes, I do, " said Guerchard, with the same gentleness. 

"Come, do you mean to say that you know where she is?" cried M. Formery. 

"Certainly, " said Guerchard. 

"Do you mean to tell us straight out that you've seen her?" cried M. Formery. 

"Oh, yes; I've seen her, " said Guerchard. 

"You've seen her--when?" cried M. Formery. 

Guerchard paused to consider. Then he said gently:

"It must have been between four and five minutes ago. "

"But hang it all, you haven't been out of this room!" cried M. Formery. 

"No, I haven't, " said Guerchard. 

"And you've seen her?" cried M. Formery. 

"Yes, " said Guerchard, raising his voice a little. 

"Well, why the devil don't you tell us where she is? Tell us!" cried M. Formery, purple with exasperation. 

"But you won't let me get a word out of my mouth, " protested Guerchardwith aggravating gentleness. 

"Well, speak!" cried M. Formery; and he sank gasping on to a chair. 

"Ah, well, she's here, " said Guerchard. 

"Here! How did she GET here?" said M. Formery. 

"On a mattress, " said Guerchard. 

M. Formery sat upright, almost beside himself, glaring furiously atGuerchard:

"What do you stand there pulling all our legs for?" he almost howled. 

"Look here, " said Guerchard. 

He walked across the room to the fireplace, pushed the chairs whichstood bound together on the hearth-rug to one side of the fireplace, and ran the heavy fire-screen on its casters to the other side of it, revealing to their gaze the wide, old-fashioned fireplace itself. Theiron brazier which held the coals had been moved into the corner, and amattress lay on the floor of the fireplace. On the mattress lay thefigure of a big, middle-aged woman, half-dressed. There was a yellowgag in her mouth; and her hands and feet were bound together with bluecords. 

"She is sleeping soundly, " said Guerchard. He stooped and picked up ahandkerchief, and smelt it. "There's the handkerchief they chloroformedher with. It still smells of chloroform. "

They stared at him and the sleeping woman. 

"Lend a hand, inspector, " he said. "And you too, Bonavent. She looks agood weight. "

The three of them raised the mattress, and carried it and the sleepingwoman to a broad couch, and laid them on it. They staggered under theirburden, for truly Victoire was a good weight. 

M. Formery rose, with recovered breath, but with his face an evenricher purple. His eyes were rolling in his head, as if they were notunder proper control. 

He turned on the inspector and cried savagely, "You never examined thefireplace, inspector!"

"No, sir, " said the downcast inspector. 

"It was unpardonable--absolutely unpardonable!" cried M. Formery. "Howis one to work with subordinates like this?"

"It was an oversight, " said Guerchard. 

M. Formery turned to him and said, "You must admit that it wasmaterially impossible for me to see her. "

"It was possible if you went down on all fours, " said Guerchard. 

"On all fours?" said M. Formery. 

"Yes; on all fours you could see her heels sticking out beyond themattress, " said Guerchard simply. 

M. Formery shrugged his shoulders: "That screen looked as if it hadstood there since the beginning of the summer, " he said. 

"The first thing, when you're dealing with Lupin, is to distrustappearances, " said Guerchard. 

"Lupin!" cried M. Formery hotly. Then he bit his lip and was silent. 

He walked to the side of the couch and looked down on the sleepingVictoire, frowning: "This upsets everything, " he said. "With these newconditions, I've got to begin all over again, to find a new explanationof the affair. For the moment--for the moment, I'm thrown completelyoff the track. And you, Guerchard?"

"Oh, well, " said Guerchard, "I have an idea or two about the matterstill. "

"Do you really mean to say that it hasn't thrown you off the tracktoo?" said M. Formery, with a touch of incredulity in his tone. 

"Well, no--not exactly, " said Guerchard. "I wasn't on that track, yousee. "

"No, of course not--of course not. You were on the track of Lupin, "said M. Formery; and his contemptuous smile was tinged with malice. 

The Duke looked from one to the other of them with curious, searchingeyes: "I find all this so interesting, " he said. 

"We do not take much notice of these checks; they do not depress us fora moment, " said M. Formery, with some return of his old grandiloquence. "We pause hardly for an instant; then we begin to reconstruct--toreconstruct. "

"It's perfectly splendid of you, " said the Duke, and his limpid eyesrested on M. Formery's self-satisfied face in a really affectionategaze; they might almost be said to caress it. 

Guerchard looked out of the window at a man who was carrying a hod-fullof bricks up one of the ladders set against the scaffolding of thebuilding house. Something in this honest workman's simple task seemedto amuse him, for he smiled. 

Only the inspector, thinking of the unexamined fireplace, looked reallydepressed. 

"We shan't get anything out of this woman till she wakes, " said M. Formery, "When she does, I shall question her closely and fully. In themeantime, she may as well be carried up to her bedroom to sleep off theeffects of the chloroform. "

Guerchard turned quickly: "Not her own bedroom, I think, " he saidgently. 

"Certainly not--of course, not her own bedroom, " said M. Formeryquickly. 

"And I think an officer at the door of whatever bedroom she does sleepin, " said Guerchard. 

"Undoubtedly--most necessary, " said M. Formery gravely. "See to it, inspector. You can take her away. "

The inspector called in a couple of policemen, and with their aid heand Bonavent raised the sleeping woman, a man at each corner of themattress, and bore her from the room. 

"And now to reconstruct, " said M. Formery; and he folded his arms andplunged into profound reflection. 

The Duke and Guerchard watched him in silence. 

CHAPTER XI

THE FAMILY ARRIVES

In carrying out Victoire, the inspector had left the door of thedrawing-room open. After he had watched M. Formery reflect for twominutes, Guerchard faded--to use an expressive Americanism--through it. The Duke felt in the breast-pocket of his coat, murmured softly, "Mycigarettes, " and followed him. 

He caught up Guerchard on the stairs and said, "I will come with you, if I may, M. Guerchard. I find all these investigations extraordinarilyinteresting. I have been observing M. Formery's methods--I should liketo watch yours, for a change. "

"By all means, " said Guerchard. "And there are several things I want tohear about from your Grace. Of course it might be an advantage todiscuss them together with M. Formery, but--" and he hesitated. 

"It would be a pity to disturb M. Formery in the middle of the processof reconstruction, " said the Duke; and a faint, ironical smile playedround the corners of his sensitive lips. 

Guerchard looked at him quickly: "Perhaps it would, " he said. 

They went through the house, out of the back door, and into the garden. Guerchard moved about twenty yards from the house, then he stopped andquestioned the Duke at great length. He questioned him first about theCharolais, their appearance, their actions, especially about Bernard'sattempt to steal the pendant, and the theft of the motor-cars. 

"I have been wondering whether M. Charolais might not have been ArseneLupin himself, " said the Duke. 

"It's quite possible, " said Guerchard. "There seem to be no limitswhatever to Lupin's powers of disguising himself. My colleague, Ganimard, has come across him at least three times that he knows of, asa different person. And no single time could he be sure that it was thesame man. Of course, he had a feeling that he was in contact with someone he had met before, but that was all. He had no certainty. He mayhave met him half a dozen times besides without knowing him. And thephotographs of him--they're all different. Ganimard declares that Lupinis so extraordinarily successful in his disguises because he is a greatactor. He actually becomes for the time being the person he pretends tobe. He thinks and feels absolutely like that person. Do you follow me?"

"Oh, yes; but he must be rather fluid, this Lupin, " said the Duke; andthen he added thoughtfully, "It must be awfully risky to come so ofteninto actual contact with men like Ganimard and you. "

"Lupin has never let any consideration of danger prevent him doinganything that caught his fancy. He has odd fancies, too. He's ahumourist of the most varied kind--grim, ironic, farcical, as the moodtakes him. He must be awfully trying to live with, " said Guerchard. 

"Do you think humourists are trying to live with?" said the Duke, in ameditative tone. "I think they brighten life a good deal; but of coursethere are people who do not like them--the middle-classes. "

"Yes, yes, they're all very well in their place; but to live with theymust be trying, " said Guerchard quickly. 

He went on to question the Duke closely and at length about thehousehold of M. Gournay-Martin, saying that Arsene Lupin worked withthe largest gang a burglar had ever captained, and it was any odds thathe had introduced one, if not more, of that gang into it. Moreover, inthe case of a big affair like this, Lupin himself often played two orthree parts under as many disguises. 

"If he was Charolais, I don't see how he could be one of M. Gournay-Martin's household, too, " said the Duke in some perplexity. 

"I don't say that he WAS Charolais, " said Guerchard. "It is quite amoot point. On the whole, I'm inclined to think that he was not. Thetheft of the motor-cars was a job for a subordinate. He would hardlybother himself with it. "

The Duke told him all that he could remember about the millionaire'sservants--and, under the clever questioning of the detective, he wassurprised to find how much he did remember--all kinds of odd detailsabout them which he had scarcely been aware of observing. 

The two of them, as they talked, afforded an interesting contrast: theDuke, with his air of distinction and race, his ironic expression, hismobile features, his clear enunciation and well-modulated voice, hiseasy carriage of an accomplished fencer--a fencer with muscles ofsteel--seemed to be a man of another kind from the slow-movingdetective, with his husky voice, his common, slurring enunciation, hisclumsily moulded features, so ill adapted to the expression of emotionand intelligence. It was a contrast almost between the hawk and themole, the warrior and the workman. Only in their eyes were they alike;both of them had the keen, alert eyes of observers. Perhaps the mostcurious thing of all was that, in spite of the fact that he had for somuch of his life been an idler, trifling away his time in the pursuitof pleasure, except when he had made his expedition to the South Pole, the Duke gave one the impression of being a cleverer man, of a farfiner brain, than the detective who had spent so much of his lifesharpening his wits on the more intricate problems of crime. 

When Guerchard came to the end of his questions, the Duke said: "Youhave given me a very strong feeling that it is going to be a deuce of ajob to catch Lupin. I don't wonder that, so far, you have none of youlaid hands on him. "

"But we have!" cried Guerchard quickly. "Twice Ganimard has caught him. Once he had him in prison, and actually brought him to trial. Lupinbecame another man, and was let go from the very dock. "

"Really? It sounds absolutely amazing, " said the Duke. 

"And then, in the affair of the Blue Diamond, Ganimard caught himagain. He has his weakness, Lupin--it's women. It's a very commonweakness in these masters of crime. Ganimard and Holmlock Shears, inthat affair, got the better of him by using his love for a woman--'thefair-haired lady, ' she was called--to nab him. "

"A shabby trick, " said the Duke. 

"Shabby?" said Guerchard in a tone of utter wonder. "How can anythingbe shabby in the case of a rogue like this?"

"Perhaps not--perhaps not--still--" said the Duke, and stopped. 

The expression of wonder faded from Guerchard's face, and he went on, "Well, Holmlock Shears recovered the Blue Diamond, and Ganimard nabbedLupin. He held him for ten minutes, then Lupin escaped. "

"What became of the fair-haired lady?" said the Duke. 

"I don't know. I have heard that she is dead, " said Guerchard. "Now Icome to think of it, I heard quite definitely that she died. "

"It must be awful for a woman to love a man like Lupin--the constant, wearing anxiety, " said the Duke thoughtfully. 

"I dare say. Yet he can have his pick of sweethearts. I've been offeredthousands of francs by women--women of your Grace's world and wealthyViennese--to make them acquainted with Lupin, " said Guerchard. 

"You don't surprise me, " said the Duke with his ironic smile. "Womennever do stop to think--where one of their heroes is concerned. And didyou do it?"

"How could I? If I only could! If I could find Lupin entangled with awoman like Ganimard did--well--" said Guerchard between his teeth. 

"He'd never get out of YOUR clutches, " said the Duke with conviction. 

"I think not--I think not, " said Guerchard grimly. "But come, I may aswell get on. "

He walked across the turf to the foot of the ladder and looked at thefootprints round it. He made but a cursory examination of them, andtook his way down the garden-path, out of the door in the wall into thespace about the house that was building. He was not long examining it, and he went right through it out into the street on which the housewould face when it was finished. He looked up and down it, and began toretrace his footsteps. 

"I've seen all I want to see out here. We may as well go back to thehouse, " he said to the Duke. 

"I hope you've seen what you expected to see, " said the Duke. 

"Exactly what I expected to see--exactly, " said Guerchard. 

"That's as it should be, " said the Duke. 

They went back to the house and found M. Formery in the drawing-room, still engaged in the process of reconstruction. 

"The thing to do now is to hunt the neighbourhood for witnesses of thedeparture of the burglars with their booty. Loaded as they were withsuch bulky objects, they must have had a big conveyance. Somebody musthave noticed it. They must have wondered why it was standing in frontof a half-built house. Somebody may have actually seen the burglarsloading it, though it was so early in the morning. Bonavent had betterinquire at every house in the street on which that half-built housefaces. Did you happen to notice the name of it?" said M. Formery. 

"It's Sureau Street, " said Guerchard. "But Dieusy has been hunting theneighbourhood for some one who saw the burglars loading theirconveyance, or saw it waiting to be loaded, for the last hour. "

"Good, " said M. Formery. "We are getting on. "

M. Formery was silent. Guerchard and the Duke sat down and lightedcigarettes. 

"You found plenty of traces, " said M. Formery, waving his hand towardsthe window. 

"Yes; I've found plenty of traces, " said Guerchard. 

"Of Lupin?" said M. Formery, with a faint sneer. 

"No; not of Lupin, " said Guerchard. 

A smile of warm satisfaction illumined M. Formery's face:

"What did I tell you?" he said. "I'm glad that you've changed your mindabout that. "

"I have hardly changed my mind, " said Guerchard, in his husky, gentlevoice. 

There came a loud knocking on the front door, the sound of excitedvoices on the stairs. The door opened, and in burst M. Gournay-Martin. He took one glance round the devastated room, raised his clenched handstowards the ceiling, and bellowed, "The scoundrels! the dirtyscoundrels!" And his voice stuck in his throat. He tottered across theroom to a couch, dropped heavily to it, gazed round the scene ofdesolation, and burst into tears. 

Germaine and Sonia came into the room. The Duke stepped forward togreet them. 

"Do stop crying, papa. You're as hoarse as a crow as it is, " saidGermaine impatiently. Then, turning on the Duke with a frown, she said:"I think that joke of yours about the train was simply disgraceful, Jacques. A joke's a joke, but to send us out to the station on a nightlike last night, through all that heavy rain, when you knew all thetime that there was no quarter-to-nine train--it was simplydisgraceful. "

"I really don't know what you're talking about, " said the Duke quietly. "Wasn't there a quarter-to-nine train?"

"Of course there wasn't, " said Germaine. "The time-table was years old. I think it was the most senseless attempt at a joke I ever heard of. "

"It doesn't seem to me to be a joke at all, " said the Duke quietly. "Atany rate, it isn't the kind of a joke I make--it would be detestable. Inever thought to look at the date of the time-table. I keep a box ofcigarettes in that drawer, and I have noticed the time-table there. Ofcourse, it may have been lying there for years. It was stupid of me notto look at the date. "

"I said it was a mistake. I was sure that his Grace would not doanything so unkind as that, " said Sonia. 

The Duke smiled at her. 

"Well, all I can say is, it was very stupid of you not to look at thedate, " said Germaine. 

M. Gournay-Martin rose to his feet and wailed, in the most heartrendingfashion: "My pictures! My wonderful pictures! Such investments! And mycabinets! My Renaissance cabinets! They can't be replaced! They wereunique! They were worth a hundred and fifty thousand francs. "

M. Formery stepped forward with an air and said, "I am distressed, M. Gournay-Martin--truly distressed by your loss. I am M. Formery, examining magistrate. "

"It is a tragedy, M. Formery--a tragedy!" groaned the millionaire. 

"Do not let it upset you too much. We shall find your masterpieces--weshall find them. Only give us time, " said M. Formery in a tone of warmencouragement. 

The face of the millionaire brightened a little. 

"And, after all, you have the consolation, that the burglars did notget hold of the gem of your collection. They have not stolen thecoronet of the Princesse de Lamballe, " said M. Formery. 

"No, " said the Duke. "They have not touched this safe. It is unopened. "

"What has that got to do with it?" growled the millionaire quickly. "That safe is empty. "

"Empty . . . But your coronet?" cried the Duke. 

"Good heavens! Then they HAVE stolen it, " cried the millionairehoarsely, in a panic-stricken voice. 

"But they can't have--this safe hasn't been touched, " said the Duke. 

"But the coronet never was in that safe. It was--have they entered mybedroom?" said the millionaire. 

"No, " said M. Formery. 

"They don't seem to have gone through any of the rooms except thesetwo, " said the Duke. 

"Ah, then my mind is at rest about that. The safe in my bedroom hasonly two keys. Here is one. " He took a key from his waistcoat pocketand held it out to them. "And the other is in this safe. "

The face of M. Formery was lighted up with a splendid satisfaction. Hemight have rescued the coronet with his own hands. He criedtriumphantly, "There, you see!"

"See? See?" cried the millionaire in a sudden bellow. "I see that theyhave robbed me--plundered me. Oh, my pictures! My wonderful pictures!Such investments!"

CHAPTER XII

THE THEFT OF THE PENDANT

They stood round the millionaire observing his anguish, with eyes inwhich shone various degrees of sympathy. As if no longer able to bearthe sight of such woe, Sonia slipped out of the room. 

The millionaire lamented his loss and abused the thieves by turns, butalways at the top of his magnificent voice. 

Suddenly a fresh idea struck him. He clapped his hand to his brow andcried: "That eight hundred pounds! Charolais will never buy the Mercracnow! He was not a bona fide purchaser!"

The Duke's lips parted slightly and his eyes opened a trifle wider thantheir wont. He turned sharply on his heel, and almost sprang into theother drawing-room. There he laughed at his ease. 

M. Formery kept saying to the millionaire: "Be calm, M. Gournay-Martin. Be calm! We shall recover your masterpieces. I pledge you my word. Allwe need is time. Have patience. Be calm!"

His soothing remonstrances at last had their effect. The millionairegrew calm:

"Guerchard?" he said. "Where is Guerchard?"

M. Formery presented Guerchard to him. 

"Are you on their track? Have you a clue?" said the millionaire. 

"I think, " said M. Formery in an impressive tone, "that we may nowproceed with the inquiry in the ordinary way. "

He was a little piqued by the millionaire's so readily turning from himto the detective. He went to a writing-table, set some sheets of paperbefore him, and prepared to make notes on the answers to his questions. The Duke came back into the drawing-room; the inspector was summoned. M. Gournay-Martin sat down on a couch with his hands on his knees andgazed gloomily at M. Formery. Germaine, who was sitting on a couch nearthe door, waiting with an air of resignation for her father to ceasehis lamentations, rose and moved to a chair nearer the writing-table. Guerchard kept moving restlessly about the room, but noiselessly. Atlast he came to a standstill, leaning against the wall behind M. Formery. 

M. Formery went over all the matters about which he had alreadyquestioned the Duke. He questioned the millionaire and his daughterabout the Charolais, the theft of the motor-cars, and the attemptedtheft of the pendant. He questioned them at less length about thecomposition of their household--the servants and their characters. Heelicited no new fact. 

He paused, and then he said, carelessly as a mere matter of routine: "Ishould like to know, M. Gournay-Martin, if there has ever been anyother robbery committed at your house?"

"Three years ago this scoundrel Lupin--" the millionaire beganviolently. 

"Yes, yes; I know all about that earlier burglary. But have you beenrobbed since?" said M. Formery, interrupting him. 

"No, I haven't been robbed since that burglary; but my daughter has, "said the millionaire. 

"Your daughter?" said M. Formery. 

"Yes; I have been robbed two or three times during the last threeyears, " said Germaine. 

"Dear me! But you ought to have told us about this before. This isextremely interesting, and most important, " said M. Formery, rubbinghis hands, "I suppose you suspect Victoire?"

"No, I don't, " said Germaine quickly. "It couldn't have been Victoire. The last two thefts were committed at the chateau when Victoire was inParis in charge of this house. "

M. Formery seemed taken aback, and he hesitated, consulting his notes. Then he said: "Good--good. That confirms my hypothesis. "

"What hypothesis?" said M. Gournay-Martin quickly. 

"Never mind--never mind, " said M. Formery solemnly. And, turning toGermaine, he went on: "You say, Mademoiselle, that these thefts beganabout three years ago?"

"Yes, I think they began about three years ago in August. "

"Let me see. It was in the month of August, three years ago, that yourfather, after receiving a threatening letter like the one he receivedlast night, was the victim of a burglary?" said M. Formery. 

"Yes, it was--the scoundrels!" cried the millionaire fiercely. 

"Well, it would be interesting to know which of your servants enteredyour service three years ago, " said M. Formery. 

"Victoire has only been with us a year at the outside, " said Germaine. 

"Only a year?" said M. Formery quickly, with an air of some vexation. He paused and added, "Exactly--exactly. And what was the nature of thelast theft of which you were the victim?"

"It was a pearl brooch--not unlike the pendant which his Grace gave meyesterday, " said Germaine. 

"Would you mind showing me that pendant? I should like to see it, " saidM. Formery. 

"Certainly--show it to him, Jacques. You have it, haven't you?" saidGermaine, turning to the Duke. 

"Me? No. How should I have it?" said the Duke in some surprise. "Haven't you got it?"

"I've only got the case--the empty case, " said Germaine, with astartled air. 

"The empty case?" said the Duke, with growing surprise. 

"Yes, " said Germaine. "It was after we came back from our uselessjourney to the station. I remembered suddenly that I had startedwithout the pendant. I went to the bureau and picked up the case; andit was empty. "

"One moment--one moment, " said M. Formery. "Didn't you catch this youngBernard Charolais with this case in his hands, your Grace?"

"Yes, " said the Duke. "I caught him with it in his pocket. "

"Then you may depend upon it that the young rascal had slipped thependant out of its case and you only recovered the empty case fromhim, " said M. Formery triumphantly. 

"No, " said the Duke. "That is not so. Nor could the thief have been theburglar who broke open the bureau to get at the keys. For long afterboth of them were out of the house I took a cigarette from the boxwhich stood on the bureau beside the case which held the pendant. Andit occurred to me that the young rascal might have played that verytrick on me. I opened the case and the pendant was there. "

"It has been stolen!" cried the millionaire; "of course it has beenstolen. "

"Oh, no, no, " said the Duke. "It hasn't been stolen. Irma, or perhapsMademoiselle Kritchnoff, has brought it to Paris for Germaine. "

"Sonia certainly hasn't brought it. It was she who suggested to me thatyou had seen it lying on the bureau, and slipped it into your pocket, "said Germaine quickly. 

"Then it must be Irma, " said the Duke. 

"We had better send for her and make sure, " said M. Formery. "Inspector, go and fetch her. "

The inspector went out of the room and the Duke questioned Germaine andher father about the journey, whether it had been very uncomfortable, and if they were very tired by it. He learned that they had been sofortunate as to find sleeping compartments on the train, so that theyhad suffered as little as might be from their night of travel. 

M. Formery looked through his notes; Guerchard seemed to be going tosleep where he stood against the wall. 

The inspector came back with Irma. She wore the frightened, half-defensive, half-defiant air which people of her class wear whenconfronted by the authorities. Her big, cow's eyes rolled uneasily. 

"Oh, Irma--" Germaine began. 

M. Formery cut her short, somewhat brusquely. "Excuse me, excuse me. Iam conducting this inquiry, " he said. And then, turning to Irma, headded, "Now, don't be frightened, Mademoiselle Irma; I want to ask youa question or two. Have you brought up to Paris the pendant which theDuke of Charmerace gave your mistress yesterday?"

"Me, sir? No, sir. I haven't brought the pendant, " said Irma. 

"You're quite sure?" said M. Formery. 

"Yes, sir; I haven't seen the pendant. Didn't Mademoiselle Germaineleave it on the bureau?" said Irma. 

"How do you know that?" said M. Formery. 

"I heard Mademoiselle Germaine say that it had been on the bureau. Ithought that perhaps Mademoiselle Kritchnoff had put it in her bag. "

"Why should Mademoiselle Kritchnoff put it in her bag?" said the Dukequickly. 

"To bring it up to Paris for Mademoiselle Germaine, " said Irma. 

"But what made you think that?" said Guerchard, suddenly intervening. 

"Oh, I thought Mademoiselle Kritchnoff might have put it in her bagbecause I saw her standing by the bureau, " said Irma. 

"Ah, and the pendant was on the bureau?" said M. Formery. 

"Yes, sir, " said Irma. 

There was a silence. Suddenly the atmosphere of the room seemed to havebecome charged with an oppression--a vague menace. Guerchard seemed tohave become wide awake again. Germaine and the Duke looked at oneanother uneasily. 

"Have you been long in the service of Mademoiselle Gournay-Martin?"said M. Formery. 

"Six months, sir, " said Irma. 

"Very good, thank you. You can go, " said M. Formery. "I may want youagain presently. "

Irma went quickly out of the room with an air of relief. 

M. Formery scribbled a few words on the paper before him and then said:"Well, I will proceed to question Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. "

"Mademoiselle Kritchnoff is quite above suspicion, " said the Dukequickly. 

"Oh, yes, quite, " said Germaine. 

"How long has Mademoiselle Kritchnoff been in your service, Mademoiselle?" said Guerchard. 

"Let me think, " said Germaine, knitting her brow. 

"Can't you remember?" said M. Formery. 

"Just about three years, " said Germaine. 

"That's exactly the time at which the thefts began, " said M. Formery. 

"Yes, " said Germaine, reluctantly. 

"Ask Mademoiselle Kritchnoff to come here, inspector, " said M. Formery. 

"Yes, sir, " said the inspector. 

"I'll go and fetch her--I know where to find her, " said the Dukequickly, moving toward the door. 

"Please, please, your Grace, " protested Guerchard. "The inspector willfetch her. "

The Duke turned sharply and looked at him: "I beg your pardon, but doyou--" he said. 

"Please don't be annoyed, your Grace, " Guerchard interrupted. "But M. Formery agrees with me--it would be quite irregular. "

"Yes, yes, your Grace, " said M. Formery. "We have our method ofprocedure. It is best to adhere to it--much the best. It is the resultof years of experience of the best way of getting the truth. "

"Just as you please, " said the Duke, shrugging his shoulders. 

The inspector came into the room: "Mademoiselle Kritchnoff will be herein a moment. She was just going out. "

"She was going out?" said M. Formery. "You don't mean to say you'reletting members of the household go out?"

"No, sir, " said the inspector. "I mean that she was just asking if shemight go out. "

M. Formery beckoned the inspector to him, and said to him in a voicetoo low for the others to hear:

"Just slip up to her room and search her trunks. "

"There is no need to take the trouble, " said Guerchard, in the same lowvoice, but with sufficient emphasis. 

"No, of course not. There's no need to take the trouble, " M. Formeryrepeated after him. 

The door opened, and Sonia came in. She was still wearing hertravelling costume, and she carried her cloak on her arm. She stoodlooking round her with an air of some surprise; perhaps there was evena touch of fear in it. The long journey of the night before did notseem to have dimmed at all her delicate beauty. The Duke's eyes restedon her in an inquiring, wondering, even searching gaze. She looked athim, and her own eyes fell. 

"Will you come a little nearer. Mademoiselle?" said M. Formery. "Thereare one or two questions--"

"Will you allow me?" said Guerchard, in a tone of such deference thatit left M. Formery no grounds for refusal. 

M. Formery flushed and ground his teeth. "Have it your own way!" hesaid ungraciously. 

"Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, " said Guerchard, in a tone of the mostgood-natured courtesy, "there is a matter on which M. Formery needssome information. The pendant which the Duke of Charmerace gaveMademoiselle Gournay-Martin yesterday has been stolen. "

"Stolen? Are you sure?" said Sonia in a tone of mingled surprise andanxiety. 

"Quite sure, " said Guerchard. "We have exactly determined theconditions under which the theft was committed. But we have everyreason to believe that the culprit, to avoid detection, has hidden thependant in the travelling-bag or trunk of somebody else in order to--"

"My bag is upstairs in my bedroom, sir, " Sonia interrupted quickly. "Here is the key of it. "

In order to free her hands to take the key from her wrist-bag, she sether cloak on the back of a couch. It slipped off it, and fell to theground at the feet of the Duke, who had not returned to his placebeside Germaine. While she was groping in her bag for the key, and alleyes were on her, the Duke, who had watched her with a curiousintentness ever since her entry into the room, stooped quietly down andpicked up the cloak. His hand slipped into the pocket of it; hisfingers touched a hard object wrapped in tissue-paper. They closedround it, drew it from the pocket, and, sheltered by the cloak, transferred it to his own. He set the cloak on the back of the sofa, and very softly moved back to his place by Germaine's side. No one inthe room observed the movement, not even Guerchard: he was watchingSonia too intently. 

Sonia found the key, and held it out to Guerchard. 

He shook his head and said: "There is no reason to search yourbag--none whatever. Have you any other luggage?"

She shrank back a little from his piercing eyes, almost as if theirgaze scared her. 

"Yes, my trunk . . . It's upstairs in my bedroom too . . . Open. "

She spoke in a faltering voice, and her troubled eyes could not meetthose of the detective. 

"You were going out, I think, " said Guerchard gently. 

"I was asking leave to go out. There is some shopping that must bedone, " said Sonia. 

"You do not see any reason why Mademoiselle Kritchnoff should not goout, M. Formery, do you?" said Guerchard. 

"Oh, no, none whatever; of course she can go out, " said M. Formery. 

Sonia turned round to go. 

"One moment, " said Guerchard, coming for-ward. "You've only got thatwrist-bag with you?"

"Yes, " said Sonia. "I have my money and my handkerchief in it. " And sheheld it out to him. 

Guerchard's keen eyes darted into it; and he muttered, "No point inlooking in that. I don't suppose any one would have had the audacity--"and he stopped. 

Sonia made a couple of steps toward the door, turned, hesitated, cameback to the couch, and picked up her cloak. 

There was a sudden gleam in Guerchard's eyes--a gleam of understanding, expectation, and triumph. He stepped forward, and holding out hishands, said: "Allow me. "

"No, thank you, " said Sonia. "I'm not going to put it on. "

"No . . . But it's possible . . . Some one may have . . . Have you felt inthe pockets of it? That one, now? It seems as if that one--"

He pointed to the pocket which had held the packet. 

Sonia started back with an air of utter dismay; her eyes glanced wildlyround the room as if seeking an avenue of escape; her fingers closedconvulsively on the pocket. 

"But this is abominable!" she cried. "You look as if--"

"I beg you, mademoiselle, " interrupted Guerchard. "We are sometimesobliged--"

"Really, Mademoiselle Sonia, " broke in the Duke, in a singularly clearand piercing tone, "I cannot see why you should object to this mereformality. "

"Oh, but--but--" gasped Sonia, raising her terror-stricken eyes to his. 

The Duke seemed to hold them with his own; and he said in the sameclear, piercing voice, "There isn't the slightest reason for you to befrightened. "

Sonia let go of the cloak, and Guerchard, his face all alight withtriumph, plunged his hand into the pocket. He drew it out empty, andstared at it, while his face fell to an utter, amazed blankness. 

"Nothing? nothing?" he muttered under his breath. And he stared at hisempty hand as if he could not believe his eyes. 

By a violent effort he forced an apologetic smile on his face, and saidto Sonia: "A thousand apologies, mademoiselle. "

He handed the cloak to her. Sonia took it and turned to go. She took astep towards the door, and tottered. 

The Duke sprang forward and caught her as she was falling. 

"Do you feel faint?" he said in an anxious voice. 

"Thank you, you just saved me in time, " muttered Sonia. 

"I'm really very sorry, " said Guerchard. 

"Thank you, it was nothing. I'm all right now, " said Sonia, releasingherself from the Duke's supporting arm. 

She drew herself up, and walked quietly out of the room. 

Guerchard went back to M. Formery at the writing-table. 

"You made a clumsy mistake there, Guerchard, " said M. Formery, with atouch of gratified malice in his tone. 

Guerchard took no notice of it: "I want you to give orders that nobodyleaves the house without my permission, " he said, in a low voice. 

"No one except Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, I suppose, " said M. Formery, smiling. 

"She less than any one, " said Guerchard quickly. 

"I don't understand what you're driving at a bit, " said M. Formery. "Unless you suppose that Mademoiselle Kritchnoff is Lupin in disguise. "

Guerchard laughed softly: "You will have your joke, M. Formery, " hesaid. 

"Well, well, I'll give the order, " said M. Formery, somewhat mollifiedby the tribute to his humour. 

He called the inspector to him and whispered a word in his ear. Then herose and said: "I think, gentlemen, we ought to go and examine thebedrooms, and, above all, make sure that the safe in M. Gournay-Martin's bedroom has not been tampered with. "

"I was wondering how much longer we were going to waste time heretalking about that stupid pendant, " grumbled the millionaire; and herose and led the way. 

"There may also be some jewel-cases in the bedrooms, " said M. Formery. "There are all the wedding presents. They were in charge of Victoire. "said Germaine quickly. "It would be dreadful if they had been stolen. Some of them are from the first families in France. "

"They would replace them . . . Those paper-knives, " said the Duke, smiling. 

Germaine and her father led the way. M. Formery, Guerchard, and theinspector followed them. At the door the Duke paused, stopped, closedit on them softly. He came back to the window, put his hand in hispocket, and drew out the packet wrapped in tissue-paper. 

He unfolded the paper with slow, reluctant fingers, and revealed thependant. 

CHAPTER XIII

LUPIN WIRES

The Duke stared at the pendant, his eyes full of wonder and pity. 

"Poor little girl!" he said softly under his breath. 

He put the pendant carefully away in his waistcoat-pocket and stoodstaring thoughtfully out of the window. 

The door opened softly, and Sonia came quickly into the room, closedthe door, and leaned back against it. Her face was a dead white; herskin had lost its lustre of fine porcelain, and she stared at him witheyes dim with anguish. 

In a hoarse, broken voice, she muttered: "Forgive me! Oh, forgive me!"

"A thief--you?" said the Duke, in a tone of pitying wonder. 

Sonia groaned. 

"You mustn't stop here, " said the Duke in an uneasy tone, and he lookeduneasily at the door. 

"Ah, you don't want to speak to me any more, " said Sonia, in aheartrending tone, wringing her hands. 

"Guerchard is suspicious of everything. It is dangerous for us to betalking here. I assure you that it's dangerous, " said the Duke. 

"What an opinion must you have of me! It's dreadful--cruel!" wailedSonia. 

"For goodness' sake don't speak so loud, " said the Duke, with evengreater uneasiness. "You MUST think of Guerchard. "

"What do I care?" cried Sonia. "I've lost the liking of the onlycreature whose liking I wanted. What does anything else matter? WhatDOES it matter?"

"We'll talk somewhere else presently. That'll be far safer, " said theDuke. 

"No, no, we must talk now!" cried Sonia. "You must know. . . . I must tell. . . Oh, dear! . . . Oh, dear! . . . I don't know how to tell you. . . . Andthen it is so unfair. . . . She . . . Germaine . . . She has everything, " shepanted. "Yesterday, before me, you gave her that pendant, . . . Shesmiled . . . She was proud of it. . . . I saw her pleasure. . . . Then I tookit--I took it--I took it! And if I could, I'd take her fortune, too. . . . I hate her! Oh, how I hate her!"

"What!" said the Duke. 

"Yes, I do . . . I hate her!" said Sonia; and her eyes, no longer gentle, glowed with the sombre resentment, the dull rage of the weak who turnon Fortune. Her gentle voice was harsh with rebellious wrath. 

"You hate her?" said the Duke quickly. 

"I should never have told you that. . . . But now I dare. . . . I dare speakout. . . . It's you! . . . It's you--" The avowal died on her lips. Aburning flush crimsoned her cheeks and faded as quickly as it came: "Ihate her!" she muttered. 

"Sonia--" said the Duke gently. 

"Oh! I know that it's no excuse. . . . I know that you're thinking 'Thisis a very pretty story, but it's not her first theft'; . . . And it'strue--it's the tenth, . . . Perhaps it's the twentieth. . . . It's true--Iam a thief. " She paused, and the glow deepened in her eyes. "Butthere's one thing you must believe--you shall believe; since you came, since I've known you, since the first day you set eyes on me, I havestolen no more . . . Till yesterday when you gave her the pendant beforeme. I could not bear it . . . I could not. " She paused and looked at himwith eyes that demanded an assent. 

"I believe you, " said the Duke gravely. 

She heaved a deep sigh of relief, and went on more quietly--some of itsgolden tone had returned to her voice: "And then, if you knew how itbegan . . . The horror of it, " she said. 

"Poor child!" said the Duke softly. 

"Yes, you pity me, but you despise me--you despise me beyond words. Youshall not! I will not have it!" she cried fiercely. 

"Believe me, no, " said the Duke, in a soothing tone. 

"Listen, " said Sonia. "Have you ever been alone--alone in the world?. . . Have you ever been hungry? Think of it . . . In this big city where Iwas starving in sight of bread . . . Bread in the shops . . . . One only hadto stretch out one's hand to touch it . . . A penny loaf. Oh, it'scommonplace!" she broke off: "quite commonplace!"

"Go on: tell me, " said the Duke curtly. 

"There was one way I could make money and I would not do it: no, Iwould not, " she went on. "But that day I was dying . . . Understand, Iwas dying . . . . I went to the rooms of a man I knew a little. It was mylast resource. At first I was glad . . . He gave me food and wine . . . Andthen, he talked to me . . . He offered me money. "

"What!" cried the Duke; and a sudden flame of anger flared up in hiseyes. 

"No; I could not . . . And then I robbed him. . . . I preferred to . . . Itwas more decent. Ah, I had excuses then. I began to steal to remain anhonest woman . . . And I've gone on stealing to keep up appearances. Yousee . . . I joke about it. " And she laughed, the faint, dreadful, mockinglaugh of a damned soul. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she cried; and, buryingher face in her hands, she burst into a storm of weeping. 

"Poor child, " said the Duke softly. And he stared gloomily on theground, overcome by this revelation of the tortures of the feeble inthe underworld beneath the Paris he knew. 

"Oh, you do pity me . . . You do understand . . . And feel, " said Sonia, between her sobs. 

The Duke raised his head and gazed at her with eyes full of an infinitesympathy and compassion. 

"Poor little Sonia, " he said gently. "I understand. "

She gazed at him with incredulous eyes, in which joy and despairmingled, struggling. 

He came slowly towards her, and stopped short. His quick ear had caughtthe sound of a footstep outside the door. 

"Quick! Dry your eyes! You must look composed. The other room!" hecried, in an imperative tone. 

He caught her hand and drew her swiftly into the further drawing-room. 

With the quickness which came of long practice in hiding her feelingsSonia composed her face to something of its usual gentle calm. Therewas even a faint tinge of colour in her cheeks; they had lost theirdead whiteness. A faint light shone in her eyes; the anguish hadcleared from them. They rested on the Duke with a look of ineffablegratitude. She sat down on a couch. The Duke went to the window andlighted a cigarette. They heard the door of the outer drawing-roomopen, and there was a pause. Quick footsteps crossed the room, andGuerchard stood in the doorway. He looked from one to the other withkeen and eager eyes. Sonia sat staring rather listlessly at the carpet. The Duke turned, and smiled at him. 

"Well, M. Guerchard, " he said. "I hope the burglars have not stolen thecoronet. "

"The coronet is safe, your Grace, " said Guerchard. 

"And the paper-knives?" said the Duke. 

"The paper-knives?" said Guerchard with an inquiring air. 

"The wedding presents, " said the Duke. 

"Yes, your Grace, the wedding presents are safe, " said Guerchard. 

"I breathe again, " said the Duke languidly. 

Guerchard turned to Sonia and said, "I was looking for you, Mademoiselle, to tell you that M. Formery has changed his mind. It isimpossible for you to go out. No one will be allowed to go out. "

"Yes?" said Sonia, in an indifferent tone. 

"We should be very much obliged if you would go to your room, " saidGuerchard. "Your meals will be sent up to you. "

"What?" said Sonia, rising quickly; and she looked from Guerchard tothe Duke. The Duke gave her the faintest nod. 

"Very well, I will go to my room, " she said coldly. 

They accompanied her to the door of the outer drawing-room. Guerchardopened it for her and closed it after her. 

"Really, M. Guerchard, " said the Duke, shrugging his shoulders. "Thislast measure--a child like that!"

"Really, I'm very sorry, your Grace; but it's my trade, or, if youprefer it, my duty. As long as things are taking place here which I amstill the only one to perceive, and which are not yet clear to me, Imust neglect no precaution. "

"Of course, you know best, " said the Duke. "But still, a child likethat--you're frightening her out of her life. "

Guerchard shrugged his shoulders, and went quietly out of the room. 

The Duke sat down in an easy chair, frowning and thoughtful. Suddenlythere struck on his ears the sound of a loud roaring and heavy bumpingon the stairs, the door flew open, and M. Gournay-Martin stood on thethreshold waving a telegram in his hand. 

M. Formery and the inspector came hurrying down the stairs behind him, and watched his emotion with astonished and wondering eyes. 

"Here!" bellowed the millionaire. "A telegram! A telegram from thescoundrel himself! Listen! Just listen:"

 "A thousand apologies for not having been able to keep my promise about the coronet. Had an appointment at the Acacias. Please have coronet ready in your room to-night. Will come without fail to fetch it, between a quarter to twelve and twelve o'clock. "

 "Yours affectionately, "

 "ARSENE LUPIN. "

"There! What do you think of that?"

"If you ask me, I think he's humbug, " said the Duke with conviction. 

"Humbug! You always think it's humbug! You thought the letter washumbug; and look what has happened!" cried the millionaire. 

"Give me the telegram, please, " said M. Formery quickly. 

The millionaire gave it to him; and he read it through. 

"Find out who brought it, inspector, " he said. 

The inspector hurried to the top of the staircase and called to thepoliceman in charge of the front door. He came back to the drawing-roomand said: "It was brought by an ordinary post-office messenger, sir. "

"Where is he?" said M. Formery. "Why did you let him go?"

"Shall I send for him, sir?" said the inspector. 

"No, no, it doesn't matter, " said M. Formery; and, turning to M. Gournay-Martin and the Duke, he said, "Now we're really going to havetrouble with Guerchard. He is going to muddle up everything. Thistelegram will be the last straw. Nothing will persuade him now thatthis is not Lupin's work. And just consider, gentlemen: if Lupin hadcome last night, and if he had really set his heart on the coronet, hewould have stolen it then, or at any rate he would have tried to openthe safe in M. Gournay-Martin's bedroom, in which the coronet actuallyis, or this safe here"--he went to the safe and rapped on the door ofit--"in which is the second key. "

"That's quite clear, " said the inspector. 

"If, then, he did not make the attempt last night, when he had a clearfield--when the house was empty--he certainly will not make the attemptnow when we are warned, when the police are on the spot, and the houseis surrounded. The idea is childish, gentlemen"--he leaned against thedoor of the safe--"absolutely childish, but Guerchard is mad on thispoint; and I foresee that his madness is going to hamper us in the mostidiotic way. "

He suddenly pitched forward into the middle of the room, as the door ofthe safe opened with a jerk, and Guerchard shot out of it. 

"What the devil!" cried M. Formery, gaping at him. 

"You'd be surprised how clearly you hear everything in thesesafes--you'd think they were too thick, " said Guerchard, in his gentle, husky voice. 

"How on earth did you get into it?" cried M. Formery. 

"Getting in was easy enough. It's the getting out that was awkward. These jokers had fixed up some kind of a spring so that I nearly shotout with the door, " said Guerchard, rubbing his elbow. 

"But how did you get into it? How the deuce DID you get into it?" criedM. Formery. 

"Through the little cabinet into which that door behind the safe opens. There's no longer any back to the safe; they've cut it clean out ofit--a very neat piece of work. Safes like this should always be fixedagainst a wall, not stuck in front of a door. The backs of them arealways the weak point. "

"And the key? The key of the safe upstairs, in my bedroom, where thecoronet is--is the key there?" cried M. Gournay-Martin. 

Guerchard went back into the empty safe, and groped about in it. Hecame out smiling. 

"Well, have you found the key?" cried the millionaire. 

"No. I haven't; but I've found something better, " said Guerchard. 

"What is it?" said M. Formery sharply. 

"I'll give you a hundred guesses, " said Guerchard with a tantalizingsmile. 

"What is it?" said M. Formery. 

"A little present for you, " said Guerchard. 

"What do you mean?" cried M. Formery angrily. 

Guerchard held up a card between his thumb and forefinger and saidquietly:

"The card of Arsene Lupin. "

CHAPTER XIV

GUERCHARD PICKS UP THE TRUE SCENT

The millionaire gazed at the card with stupefied eyes, the inspectorgazed at it with extreme intelligence, the Duke gazed at it withinterest, and M. Formery gazed at it with extreme disgust. 

"It's part of the same ruse--it was put there to throw us off thescent. It proves nothing--absolutely nothing, " he said scornfully. 

"No; it proves nothing at all, " said Guerchard quietly. 

"The telegram is the important thing--this telegram, " said M. Gournay-Martin feverishly. "It concerns the coronet. Is it going to bedisregarded?"

"Oh, no, no, " said M. Formery in a soothing tone. "It will be takeninto account. It will certainly be taken into account. "

M. Gournay-Martin's butler appeared in the doorway of the drawing-room:"If you please, sir, lunch is served, " he said. 

At the tidings some of his weight of woe appeared to be lifted from thehead of the millionaire. "Good!" he said, "good! Gentlemen, you willlunch with me, I hope. "

"Thank you, " said M. Formery. "There is nothing else for us to do, atany rate at present, and in the house. I am not quite satisfied aboutMademoiselle Kritchnoff--at least Guerchard is not. I propose toquestion her again--about those earlier thefts. "

"I'm sure there's nothing in that, " said the Duke quickly. 

"No, no; I don't think there is, " said M. Formery. "But still one neverknows from what quarter light may come in an affair like this. Accidentoften gives us our best clues. "

"It seems rather a shame to frighten her--she's such a child, " said theDuke. 

"Oh, I shall be gentle, your Grace--as gentle as possible, that is. ButI look to get more from the examination of Victoire. She was on thescene. She has actually seen the rogues at work; but till she recoversthere is nothing more to be done, except to wait the discoveries of thedetectives who are working outside; and they will report here. So inthe meantime we shall be charmed to lunch with you, M. Gournay-Martin. "

They went downstairs to the dining-room and found an elaborate andluxurious lunch, worthy of the hospitality of a millionaire, awaitingthem. The skill of the cook seemed to have been quite unaffected by thelosses of his master. M. Formery, an ardent lover of good things, enjoyed himself immensely. He was in the highest spirits. Germaine, alittle upset by the night-journey, was rather querulous. Her father wasplunged in a gloom which lifted for but a brief space at the appearanceof a fresh delicacy. Guerchard ate and drank seriously, answering thequestions of the Duke in a somewhat absent-minded fashion. The Dukehimself seemed to have lost his usual flow of good spirits, and attimes his brow was knitted in an anxious frown. His questions toGuerchard showed a far less keen interest in the affair. 

To him the lunch seemed very long and very tedious; but at last it cameto an end. M. Gournay-Martin seemed to have been much cheered by thewine he had drunk. He was almost hopeful. M. Formery, who had not byany means trifled with the champagne, was raised to the very height ofsanguine certainty. Their coffee and liqueurs were served in thesmoking-room. Guerchard lighted a cigar, refused a liqueur, drank hiscoffee quickly, and slipped out of the room. 

The Duke followed him, and in the hall said: "I will continue to watchyou unravel the threads of this mystery, if I may, M. Guerchard. "

Good Republican as Guerchard was, he could not help feeling flatteredby the interest of a Duke; and the excellent lunch he had eatendisposed him to feel the honour even more deeply. 

"I shall be charmed, " he said. "To tell the truth, I find the companyof your Grace really quite stimulating. "

"It must be because I find it all so extremely interesting, " said theDuke. 

They went up to the drawing-room and found the red-faced youngpoliceman seated on a chair by the door eating a lunch, which had beensent up to him from the millionaire's kitchen, with a very heartyappetite. 

They went into the drawing-room. Guerchard shut the door and turned thekey: "Now, " he said, "I think that M. Formery will give me half an hourto myself. His cigar ought to last him at least half an hour. In thattime I shall know what the burglars really did with their plunder--atleast I shall know for certain how they got it out of the house. "

"Please explain, " said the Duke. "I thought we knew how they got it outof the house. " And he waved his hand towards the window. 

"Oh, that!--that's childish, " said Guerchard contemptuously. "Those aretraces for an examining magistrate. The ladder, the table on thewindow-sill, they lead nowhere. The only people who came up that ladderwere the two men who brought it from the scaffolding. You can see theirfootsteps. Nobody went down it at all. It was mere waste of time tobother with those traces. "

"But the footprint under the book?" said the Duke. 

"Oh, that, " said Guerchard. "One of the burglars sat on the couchthere, rubbed plaster on the sole of his boot, and set his foot down onthe carpet. Then he dusted the rest of the plaster off his boot and putthe book on the top of the footprint. "

"Now, how do you know that?" said the astonished Duke. 

"It's as plain as a pike-staff, " said Guerchard. "There must have beenseveral burglars to move such pieces of furniture. If the soles of allof them had been covered with plaster, all the sweeping in the worldwould not have cleared the carpet of the tiny fragments of it. I'vebeen over the carpet between the footprint and the window with amagnifying glass. There are no fragments of plaster on it. We dismissthe footprint. It is a mere blind, and a very fair blind too--for anexamining magistrate. "

"I understand, " said the Duke. 

"That narrows the problem, the quite simple problem, how was thefurniture taken out of the room. It did not go through that window downthe ladder. Again, it was not taken down the stairs, and out of thefront door, or the back. If it had been, the concierge and his wifewould have heard the noise. Besides that, it would have been carrieddown into a main street, in which there are people at all hours. Somebody would have been sure to tell a policeman that this house wasbeing emptied. Moreover, the police were continually patrolling themain streets, and, quickly as a man like Lupin would do the job, hecould not do it so quickly that a policeman would not have seen it. No;the furniture was not taken down the stairs or out of the front door. That narrows the problem still more. In fact, there is only one mode ofegress left. "

"The chimney!" cried the Duke. 

"You've hit it, " said Guerchard, with a husky laugh. "By thatwell-known logical process, the process of elimination, we've excludedall methods of egress except the chimney. "

He paused, frowning, in some perplexity; and then he said uneasily:"What I don't like about it is that Victoire was set in the fireplace. I asked myself at once what was she doing there. It was unnecessarythat she should be drugged and set in the fireplace--quite unnecessary. "

"It might have been to put off an examining magistrate, " said the Duke. "Having found Victoire in the fireplace, M. Formery did not look foranything else. "

"Yes, it might have been that, " said Guerchard slowly. "On the otherhand, she might have been put there to make sure that I did not missthe road the burglars took. That's the worst of having to do withLupin. He knows me to the bottom of my mind. He has something up hissleeve--some surprise for me. Even now, I'm nowhere near the bottom ofthe mystery. But come along, we'll take the road the burglars took. Theinspector has put my lantern ready for me. "

As he spoke he went to the fireplace, picked up a lantern which hadbeen set on the top of the iron fire-basket, and lighted it. The Dukestepped into the great fireplace beside him. It was four feet deep, andbetween eight and nine feet broad. Guerchard threw the light from thelantern on to the back wall of it. Six feet from the floor the sootfrom the fire stopped abruptly, and there was a dappled patch ofbricks, half of them clean and red, half of them blackened by soot, five feet broad, and four feet high. 

"The opening is higher up than I thought, " said Guerchard. "I must geta pair of steps. "

He went to the door of the drawing-room and bade the young policemanfetch him a pair of steps. They were brought quickly. He took them fromthe policeman, shut the door, and locked it again. He set the steps inthe fireplace and mounted them. 

"Be careful, " he said to the Duke, who had followed him into thefireplace, and stood at the foot of the steps. "Some of these bricksmay drop inside, and they'll sting you up if they fall on your toes. "

The Duke stepped back out of reach of any bricks that might fall. 

Guerchard set his left hand against the wall of the chimney-piecebetween him and the drawing-room, and pressed hard with his rightagainst the top of the dappled patch of bricks. At the first push, halfa dozen of them fell with a bang on to the floor of the next house. Thelight came flooding in through the hole, and shone on Guerchard's faceand its smile of satisfaction. Quickly he pushed row after row ofbricks into the next house until he had cleared an opening four feetsquare. 

"Come along, " he said to the Duke, and disappeared feet foremostthrough the opening. 

The Duke mounted the steps, and found himself looking into a largeempty room of the exact size and shape of the drawing-room of M. Gournay-Martin, save that it had an ordinary modern fireplace insteadof one of the antique pattern of that in which he stood. Itschimney-piece was a few inches below the opening. He stepped out on tothe chimney-piece and dropped lightly to the floor. 

"Well, " he said, looking back at the opening through which he had come. "That's an ingenious dodge. "

"Oh, it's common enough, " said Guerchard. "Robberies at the bigjewellers' are sometimes Worked by these means. But what is uncommonabout it, and what at first sight put me off the track, is that theseburglars had the cheek to pierce the wall with an opening large enoughto enable them to remove the furniture of a house. "

"It's true, " said the Duke. "The opening's as large as a good-sizedwindow. Those burglars seem capable of everything--even of afirst-class piece of mason's work. "

"Oh, this has all been prepared a long while ago. But now I'm really ontheir track. And after all, I haven't really lost any time. Dieusywasted no time in making inquiries in Sureau Street; he's been workingall this side of the house. "

Guerchard drew up the blinds, opened the shutters, and let the daylightflood the dim room. He came back to the fireplace and looked down atthe heap of bricks, frowning:

"I made a mistake there, " he said. "I ought to have taken those bricksdown carefully, one by one. "

Quickly he took brick after brick from the pile, and began to rangethem neatly against the wall on the left. The Duke watched him for twoor three minutes, then began to help him. It did not take them long, and under one of the last few bricks Guerchard found a fragment of agilded picture-frame. 

"Here's where they ought to have done their sweeping, " he said, holdingit up to the Duke. 

"I tell you what, " said the Duke, "I shouldn't wonder if we found thefurniture in this house still. "

"Oh, no, no!" said Guerchard. "I tell you that Lupin would allow formyself or Ganimard being put in charge of the case; and he would knowthat we should find the opening in the chimney. The furniture was takenstraight out into the side-street on to which this house opens. " He ledthe way out of the room on to the landing and went down the darkstaircase into the hall. He opened the shutters of the hall windows, and let in the light. Then he examined the hall. The dust lay thick onthe tiled floor. Down the middle of it was a lane formed by many feet. The footprints were faint, but still plain in the layer of dust. Guerchard came back to the stairs and began to examine them. Half-wayup the flight he stooped, and picked up a little spray of flowers:"Fresh!" he said. "These have not been long plucked. "

"Salvias, " said the Duke. 

"Salvias they are, " said Guerchard. "Pink salvias; and there is onlyone gardener in France who has ever succeeded in getting this shade--M. Gournay-Martin's gardener at Charmerace. I'm a gardener myself. "

"Well, then, last night's burglars came from Charmerace. They musthave, " said the Duke. 

"It looks like it, " said Guerchard. 

"The Charolais, " said the Duke. 

"It looks like it, " said Guerchard. 

"It must be, " said the Duke. "This IS interesting--if only we could getan absolute proof. "

"We shall get one presently, " said Guerchard confidently. 

"It is interesting, " said the Duke in a tone of lively enthusiasm. "These clues--these tracks which cross one another--each fact bydegrees falling into its proper place--extraordinarily interesting. " Hepaused and took out his cigarette-case: "Will you have a cigarette?" hesaid. 

"Are they caporal?" said Guerchard. 

"No, Egyptians--Mercedes. "

"Thank you, " said Guerchard; and he took one. 

The Duke struck a match, lighted Guerchard's cigarette, and then hisown:

"Yes, it's very interesting, " he said. "In the last quarter of an houryou've practically discovered that the burglars came fromCharmerace--that they were the Charolais--that they came in by thefront door of this house, and carried the furniture out of it. "

"I don't know about their coming in by it, " said Guerchard. "Unless I'mvery much mistaken, they came in by the front door of M. Gournay-Martin's house. "

"Of course, " said the Duke. "I was forgetting. They brought the keysfrom Charmerace. "

"Yes, but who drew the bolts for them?" said Guerchard. "The conciergebolted them before he went to bed. He told me so. He was telling thetruth--I know when that kind of man is telling the truth. "

"By Jove!" said the Duke softly. "You mean that they had an accomplice?"

"I think we shall find that they had an accomplice. But your Grace isbeginning to draw inferences with uncommon quickness. I believe thatyou would make a first-class detective yourself--with practice, ofcourse--with practice. "

"Can I have missed my true career?" said the Duke, smiling. "It'scertainly a very interesting game. "

"Well, I'm not going to search this barracks myself, " said Guerchard. "I'll send in a couple of men to do it; but I'll just take a look atthe steps myself. "

So saying, he opened the front door and went out and examined the stepscarefully. 

"We shall have to go back the way we came, " he said, when he hadfinished his examination. "The drawing-room door is locked. We ought tofind M. Formery hammering on it. " And he smiled as if he found thethought pleasing. 

They went back up the stairs, through the opening, into thedrawing-room of M. Gournay-Martin's house. Sure enough, from the otherside of the locked door came the excited voice of M. Formery, crying:

"Guerchard! Guerchard! What are you doing? Let me in! Why don't you letme in?"

Guerchard unlocked the door; and in bounced M. Formery, very excited, very red in the face. 

"Hang it all, Guerchard! What on earth have you been doing?" he cried. "Why didn't you open the door when I knocked?"

"I didn't hear you, " said Guerchard. "I wasn't in the room. "

"Then where on earth have you been?" cried M. Formery. 

Guerchard looked at him with a faint, ironical smile, and said in hisgentle voice, "I was following the real track of the burglars. "

CHAPTER XV

THE EXAMINATION OF SONIA

M. Formery gasped: "The real track?" he muttered. 

"Let me show you, " said Guerchard. And he led him to the fireplace, andshowed him the opening between the two houses. 

"I must go into this myself!" cried M. Formery in wild excitement. 

Without more ado he began to mount the steps. Guerchard followed him. The Duke saw their heels disappear up the steps. Then he came out ofthe drawing-room and inquired for M. Gournay-Martin. He was told thatthe millionaire was up in his bedroom; and he went upstairs, andknocked at the door of it. 

M. Gournay-Martin bade him enter in a very faint voice, and the Dukefound him lying on the bed. He was looking depressed, even exhausted, the shadow of the blusterous Gournay-Martin of the day before. The richrosiness of his cheeks had faded to a moderate rose-pink. 

"That telegram, " moaned the millionaire. "It was the last straw. It hasoverwhelmed me. The coronet is lost. "

"What, already?" said the Duke, in a tone of the liveliest surprise. 

"No, no; it's still in the safe, " said the millionaire. "But it's asgood as lost--before midnight it will be lost. That fiend will get it. "

"If it's in this safe now, it won't be lost before midnight, " said theDuke. "But are you sure it's there now?"

"Look for yourself, " said the millionaire, taking the key of the safefrom his waistcoat pocket, and handing it to the Duke. 

The Duke opened the safe. The morocco case which held the coronet layon the middle shell in front of him. He glanced at the millionaire, andsaw that he had closed his eyes in the exhaustion of despair. Whistlingsoftly, the Duke opened the case, took out the diadem, and examined itcarefully, admiring its admirable workmanship. He put it back in thecase, turned to the millionaire, and said thoughtfully:

"I can never make up my mind, in the case of one of these old diadems, whether one ought not to take out the stones and have them re-cut. Lookat this emerald now. It's a very fine stone, but this old-fashionedcutting does not really do it justice. "

"Oh, no, no: you should never interfere with an antique, historic pieceof jewellery. Any alteration decreases its value--its value as anhistoric relic, " cried the millionaire, in a shocked tone. 

"I know that, " said the Duke, "but the question for me is, whether oneought not to sacrifice some of its value to increasing its beauty. "

"You do have such mad ideas, " said the millionaire, in a tone ofpeevish exasperation. 

"Ah, well, it's a nice question, " said the Duke. 

He snapped the case briskly, put it back on the shelf, locked the safe, and handed the key to the millionaire. Then he strolled across the roomand looked down into the street, whistling softly. 

"I think--I think--I'll go home and get out of these motoring clothes. And I should like to have on a pair of boots that were a trifle lessmuddy, " he said slowly. 

M. Gournay-Martin sat up with a jerk and cried, "For Heaven's sake, don't you go and desert me, my dear chap! You don't know what my nervesare like!"

"Oh, you've got that sleuth-hound, Guerchard, and the splendid Formery, and four other detectives, and half a dozen ordinary policemen guardingyou. You can do without my feeble arm. Besides, I shan't be gone morethan half an hour--three-quarters at the outside. I'll bring back myevening clothes with me, and dress for dinner here. I don't supposethat anything fresh will happen between now and midnight; but I want tobe on the spot, and hear the information as it comes in fresh. Besides, there's Guerchard. I positively cling to Guerchard. It's an education, though perhaps not a liberal education, to go about with him, " said theDuke; and there was a sub-acid irony in his voice. 

"Well, if you must, you must, " said M. Gournay-Martin grumpily. 

"Good-bye for the present, then, " said the Duke. And he went out of theroom and down the stairs. He took his motor-cap from the hall-table, and had his hand on the latch of the door, when the policeman in chargeof it said, "I beg your pardon, sir, but have you M. Guerchard'spermission to leave the house?"

"M. Guerchard's permission?" said the Duke haughtily. "What has M. Guerchard to do with me? I am the Duke of Charmerace. " And he openedthe door. 

"It was M. Formery's orders, your Grace, " stammered the policemandoubtfully. 

"M. Formery's orders?" said the Duke, standing on the top step. "Callme a taxi-cab, please. "

The concierge, who stood beside the policeman, ran down the steps andblew his whistle. The policeman gazed uneasily at the Duke, shiftinghis weight from one foot to the other; but he said no more. 

A taxi-cab came up to the door, the Duke went down the steps, steppedinto it, and drove away. 

Three-quarters of an hour later he came back, having changed intoclothes more suited to a Paris drawing-room. He went up to thedrawing-room, and there he found Guerchard, M. Formery, and theinspector, who had just completed their tour of inspection of the housenext door and had satisfied themselves that the stolen treasures werenot in it. The inspector and his men had searched it thoroughly just tomake sure; but, as Guerchard had foretold, the burglars had not takenthe chance of the failure of the police to discover the opening betweenthe two houses. M. Formery told the Duke about their tour of inspectionat length. Guerchard went to the telephone and told the exchange to puthim through to Charmerace. He was informed that the trunk line was verybusy and that he might have to wait half an hour. 

The Duke inquired if any trace of the burglars, after they had leftwith their booty, had yet been found. M. Formery told him that, so far, the detectives had failed to find a single trace. Guerchard said thathe had three men at work on the search, and that he was hopeful ofgetting some news before long. 

"The layman is impatient in these matters, " said M. Formery, with anindulgent smile. "But we have learnt to be patient, after longexperience. "

He proceeded to discuss with Guerchard the new theories with which thediscovery of the afternoon had filled his mind. None of them struck theDuke as being of great value, and he listened to them with a somewhatabsent-minded air. The coming examination of Sonia weighed heavily onhis spirit. Guerchard answered only in monosyllables to the questionsand suggestions thrown out by M. Formery. It seemed to the Duke that hepaid very little attention to him, that his mind was still working hardon the solution of the mystery, seeking the missing facts which wouldbring him to the bottom of it. In the middle of one of M. Formery'smore elaborate dissertations the telephone bell rang. 

Guerchard rose hastily and went to it. They heard him say: "Is thatCharmerace? . . . I want the gardener. . . . Out? When will he be back? . . . Tell him to ring me up at M. Gournay-Martin's house in Paris the momenthe gets back. . . . Detective-Inspector Guerchard . . . Guerchard . . . Detective-Inspector. "

He turned to them with a frown, and said, "Of course, since I want him, the confounded gardener has gone out for the day. Still, it's of verylittle importance--a mere corroboration I wanted. " And he went back tohis seat and lighted another cigarette. 

M. Formery continued his dissertation. Presently Guerchard said, "Youmight go and see how Victoire is, inspector--whether she shows anysigns of waking. What did the doctor say?"

"The doctor said that she would not really be sensible and have herfull wits about her much before ten o'clock to-night, " said theinspector; but he went to examine her present condition. 

M. Formery proceeded to discuss the effects of different anesthetics. The others heard him with very little attention. 

The inspector came back and reported that Victoire showed no signs ofawaking. 

"Well, then, M. Formery, I think we might get on with the examinationof Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, " said Guerchard. "Will you go and fetchher, inspector?"

"Really, I cannot conceive why you should worry that poor child, " theDuke protested, in a tone of some indignation. 

"It seems to me hardly necessary, " said M. Formery. 

"Excuse me, " said Guerchard suavely, "but I attach considerableimportance to it. It seems to me to be our bounden duty to question herfully. One never knows from what quarter light may come. "

"Oh, well, since you make such a point of it, " said M. Formery. "Inspector, ask Mademoiselle Kritchnoff to come here. Fetch her. "

The inspector left the room. 

Guerchard looked at the Duke with a faint air of uneasiness: "I thinkthat we had better question Mademoiselle Kritchnoff by ourselves, " hesaid. 

M. Formery looked at him and hesitated. Then he said: "Oh, yes, ofcourse, by ourselves. "

"Certainly, " said the Duke, a trifle haughtily. And he rose and openedthe door. He was just going through it when Guerchard said sharply:

"Your Grace--"

The Duke paid no attention to him. He shut the door quickly behind himand sprang swiftly up the stairs. He met the inspector coming down withSonia. Barring their way for a moment he said, in his kindliest voice:"Now you mustn't be frightened, Mademoiselle Sonia. All you have to dois to try to remember as clearly as you can the circumstances of theearlier thefts at Charmerace. You mustn't let them confuse you. "

"Thank you, your Grace, I will try and be as clear as I can, " saidSonia; and she gave him an eloquent glance, full of gratitude for thewarning; and went down the stairs with firm steps. 

The Duke went on up the stairs, and knocked softly at the door of M. Gournay-Martin's bedroom. There was no answer to his knock, and hequietly opened the door and looked in. Overcome by his misfortunes, themillionaire had sunk into a profound sleep and was snoring softly. TheDuke stepped inside the room, left the door open a couple of inches, drew a chair to it, and sat down watching the staircase through theopening of the door. 

He sat frowning, with a look of profound pity on his face. Once thesuspense grew too much for him. He rose and walked up and down theroom. His well-bred calm seemed to have deserted him. He mutteredcurses on Guerchard, M. Formery, and the whole French criminal system, very softly, under his breath. His face was distorted to a mask offury; and once he wiped the little beads of sweat from his foreheadwith his handkerchief. Then he recovered himself, sat down in thechair, and resumed his watch on the stairs. 

At last, at the end of half an hour, which had seemed to him monthslong, he heard voices. The drawing-room door shut, and there werefootsteps on the stairs. The inspector and Sonia came into view. 

He waited till they were at the top of the stairs: then he came out ofthe room, with his most careless air, and said: "Well, MademoiselleSonia, I hope you did not find it so very dreadful, after all. "

She was very pale, and there were undried tears on her cheeks. "It washorrible, " she said faintly. "Horrible. M. Formery was all right--hebelieved me; but that horrible detective would not believe a word Isaid. He confused me. I hardly knew what I was saying. "

The Duke ground his teeth softly. "Never mind, it's over now. You hadbetter lie down and rest. I will tell one of the servants to bring youup a glass of wine. "

He walked with her to the door of her room, and said: "Try tosleep--sleep away the unpleasant memory. "

She went into her room, and the Duke went downstairs and told thebutler to take a glass of champagne up to her. Then he went upstairs tothe drawing-room. M. Formery was at the table writing. Guerchard stoodbeside him. He handed what he had written to Guerchard, and, with asmile of satisfaction, Guerchard folded the paper and put it in hispocket. 

"Well, M. Formery, did Mademoiselle Kritchnoff throw any fresh light onthis mystery?" said the Duke, in a tone of faint contempt. 

"No--in fact she convinced ME that she knew nothing whatever about it. M. Guerchard seems to entertain a different opinion. But I think thateven he is convinced that Mademoiselle Kritchnoff is not a friend ofArsene Lupin. "

"Oh, well, perhaps she isn't. But there's no telling, " said Guerchardslowly. 

"Arsene Lupin?" cried the Duke. "Surely you never thought thatMademoiselle Kritchnoff had anything to do with Arsene Lupin?"

"I never thought so, " said M. Formery. "But when one has a fixed idea. . . Well, one has a fixed idea. " He shrugged his shoulders, and lookedat Guerchard with contemptuous eyes. 

The Duke laughed, an unaffected ringing laugh, but not a pleasant one:"It's absurd!" he cried. 

"There are always those thefts, " said Guerchard, with a nettled air. 

"You have nothing to go upon, " said M. Formery. "What if she did enterthe service of Mademoiselle Gournay-Martin just before the theftsbegan? Besides, after this lapse of time, if she had committed thethefts, you'd find it a job to bring them home to her. It's not a jobworth your doing, anyhow--it's a job for an ordinary detective, Guerchard. "

"There's always the pendant, " said Guerchard. "I am convinced that thatpendant is in the house. "

"Oh, that stupid pendant! I wish I'd never given it to MademoiselleGournay-Martin, " said the Duke lightly. 

"I have a feeling that if I could lay my hand on that pendant--if Icould find who has it, I should have the key to this mystery. "

"The devil you would!" said the Duke softly. "That is odd. It is theoddest thing about this business I've heard yet. "

"I have that feeling--I have that feeling, " said Guerchard quietly. 

The Duke smiled. 

CHAPTER XVI

VICTOIRE'S SLIP

They were silent. The Duke walked to the fireplace, stepped into it, and studied the opening. He came out again and said: "Oh, by the way, M. Formery, the policeman at the front door wanted to stop me going outof the house when I went home to change. I take it that M. Guerchard'sprohibition does not apply to me?"

"Of course not--of course not, your Grace, " said M. Formery quickly. 

"I saw that you had changed your clothes, your Grace, " said Guerchard. "I thought that you had done it here. "

"No, " said the Duke, "I went home. The policeman protested; but he wentno further, so I did not throw him into the middle of the street. "

"Whatever our station, we should respect the law, " said M. Formerysolemnly. 

"The Republican Law, M. Formery? I am a Royalist, " said the Duke, smiling at him. 

M. Formery shook his head sadly. 

"I was wondering, " said the Duke, "about M. Guerchard's theory that theburglars were let in the front door of this house by an accomplice. Why, when they had this beautiful large opening, did they want a frontdoor, too?"

"I did not know that that was Guerchard's theory?" said M. Formery, atrifle contemptuously. "Of course they had no need to use the frontdoor. "

"Perhaps they had no need to use the front door, " said Guerchard; "but, after all, the front door was unbolted, and they did not draw the boltsto put us off the scent. Their false scent was already prepared"--hewaved his hand towards the window--"moreover, you must bear in mindthat that opening might not have been made when they entered the house. Suppose that, while they were on the other side of the wall, a brickhad fallen on to the hearth, and alarmed the concierge. We don't knowhow skilful they are; they might not have cared to risk it. I'minclined to think, on the whole, that they did come in through thefront door. "

M. Formery sniffed contemptuously. 

"Perhaps you're right, " said the Duke. "But the accomplice?"

"I think we shall know more about the accomplice when Victoire awakes, "said Guerchard. 

"The family have such confidence in Victoire, " said the Duke. 

"Perhaps Lupin has, too, " said Guerchard grimly. 

"Always Lupin!" said M. Formery contemptuously. 

There came a knock at the door, and a footman appeared on thethreshold. He informed the Duke that Germaine had returned from hershopping expedition, and was awaiting him in her boudoir. He went toher, and tried to persuade her to put in a word for Sonia, andendeavour to soften Guerchard's rigour. 

She refused to do anything of the kind, declaring that, in view of thevalue of the stolen property, no stone must be left unturned to recoverit. The police knew what they were doing; they must have a free hand. The Duke did not press her with any great vigour; he realized thefutility of an appeal to a nature so shallow, so self-centred, and solacking in sympathy. He took his revenge by teasing her about thewedding presents which were still flowing in. Her father's businessfriends were still striving to outdo one another in the costliness ofthe jewelry they were giving her. The great houses of the FaubourgSaint-Germain were still refraining firmly from anything that savouredof extravagance or ostentation. While he was with her the eleventhpaper-knife came--from his mother's friend, the Duchess of Veauleglise. The Duke was overwhelmed with joy at the sight of it, and his delightedcomments drove Germaine to the last extremity of exasperation. Theresult was that she begged him, with petulant asperity, to get out ofher sight. 

He complied with her request, almost with alacrity, and returned to M. Formery and Guerchard. He found them at a standstill, waiting forreports from the detectives who were hunting outside the house forinformation about the movements of the burglars with the stolen booty, and apparently finding none. The police were also hunting for thestolen motor-cars, not only in Paris and its environs, but also allalong the road between Paris and Charmerace. 

At about five o'clock Guerchard grew tired of the inaction, and wentout himself to assist his subordinates, leaving M. Formery in charge ofthe house itself. He promised to be back by half-past seven, to let theexamining magistrate, who had an engagement for the evening, get away. The Duke spent his time between the drawing-room, where M. Formeryentertained him with anecdotes of his professional skill, and theboudoir, where Germaine was entertaining envious young friends who cameto see her wedding presents. The friends of Germaine were always alittle ill at ease in the society of the Duke, belonging as they did tothat wealthy middle class which has made France what she is. Hisindifference to the doings of the old friends of his family saddenedthem; and they were unable to understand his airy and persistenttrifling. It seemed to them a discord in the cosmic tune. 

The afternoon wore away, and at half-past seven Guerchard had notreturned. M. Formery waited for him, fuming, for ten minutes, then leftthe house in charge of the inspector, and went off to his engagement. M. Gournay-Martin was entertaining two financiers and their wives, twoof their daughters, and two friends of the Duke, the Baron de Vernanand the Comte de Vauvineuse, at dinner that night. Thanks to the Duke, the party was of a liveliness to which the gorgeous dining-room hadbeen very little used since it had been so fortunate as to become theproperty of M. Gournay-Martin. 

The millionaire had been looking forward to an evening of luxuriouswoe, deploring the loss of his treasures--giving their prices--to hissympathetic friends. The Duke had other views; and they prevailed. After dinner the guests went to the smoking-room, since thedrawing-rooms were in possession of Guerchard. Soon after ten the Dukeslipped away from them, and went to the detective. Guerchard's was nota face at any time full of expression, and all that the Duke saw on itwas a subdued dulness. 

"Well, M. Guerchard, " he said cheerfully, "what luck? Have any of yourmen come across any traces of the passage of the burglars with theirbooty?"

"No, your Grace; so far, all the luck has been with the burglars. Forall that any one seems to have seen them, they might have vanished intothe bowels of the earth through the floor of the cellars in the emptyhouse next door. That means that they were very quick loading whatevervehicle they used with their plunder. I should think, myself, that theyfirst carried everything from this house down into the hall of thehouse next door; and then, of course, they could be very quick gettingthem from hall to their van, or whatever it was. But still, some onesaw that van--saw it drive up to the house, or waiting at the house, ordriving away from it. "

"Is M. Formery coming back?" said the Duke. 

"Not to-night, " said Guerchard. "The affair is in my hands now; and Ihave my own men on it--men of some intelligence, or, at any rate, menwho know my ways, and how I want things done. "

"It must be a relief, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, no, I'm used to M. Formery--to all the examining magistrates inParis, and in most of the big provincial towns. They do not reallyhamper me; and often I get an idea from them; for some of them are menof real intelligence. "

"And others are not: I understand, " said the Duke. 

The door opened and Bonavent, the detective, came in. 

"The housekeeper's awake, M. Guerchard, " he said. 

"Good, bring her down here, " said Guerchard. 

"Perhaps you'd like me to go, " said the Duke. 

"Oh, no, " said Guerchard. "If it would interest you to hear me questionher, please stay. "

Bonavent left the room. The Duke sat down in an easy chair, andGuerchard stood before the fireplace. 

"M. Formery told me, when you were out this afternoon, that he believedthis housekeeper to be quite innocent, " said the Duke idly. 

"There is certainly one innocent in this affair, " said Guerchard, grinning. 

"Who is that?" said the Duke. 

"The examining magistrate, " said Guerchard. 

The door opened, and Bonavent brought Victoire in. She was a big, middle-aged woman, with a pleasant, cheerful, ruddy face, black-haired, with sparkling brown eyes, which did not seem to have been at alldimmed by her long, drugged sleep. She looked like a well-to-dofarmer's wife, a buxom, good-natured, managing woman. 

As soon as she came into the room, she said quickly:

"I wish, Mr. Inspector, your man would have given me time to put on adecent dress. I must have been sleeping in this one ever since thoserascals tied me up and put that smelly handkerchief over my face. Inever saw such a nasty-looking crew as they were in my life. "

"How many were there, Madame Victoire?" said Guerchard. 

"Dozens! The house was just swarming with them. I heard the noise; Icame downstairs; and on the landing outside the door here, one of themjumped on me from behind and nearly choked me--to prevent me fromscreaming, I suppose. "

"And they were a nasty-looking crew, were they?" said Guerchard. "Didyou see their faces?"

"No, I wish I had! I should know them again if I had; but they were allmasked, " said Victoire. 

"Sit down, Madame Victoire. There's no need to tire you, " saidGuerchard. And she sat down on a chair facing him. 

"Let's see, you sleep in one of the top rooms, Madame Victoire. It hasa dormer window, set in the roof, hasn't it?" said Guerchard, in thesame polite, pleasant voice. 

"Yes; yes. But what has that got to do with it?" said Victoire. 

"Please answer my questions, " said Guerchard sharply. "You went tosleep in your room. Did you hear any noise on the roof?"

"On the roof? How should I hear it on the roof? There wouldn't be anynoise on the roof, " said Victoire. 

"You heard nothing on the roof?" said Guerchard. 

"No; the noise I heard was down here, " said Victoire. 

"Yes, and you came down to see what was making it. And you were seizedfrom behind on the landing, and brought in here, " said Guerchard. 

"Yes, that's right, " said Madame Victoire. 

"And were you tied up and gagged on the landing, or in here?" saidGuerchard. 

"Oh, I was caught on the landing, and pushed in here, and then tiedup, " said Victoire. 

"I'm sure that wasn't one man's job, " said Guerchard, looking at hervigorous figure with admiring eyes. 

"You may be sure of that, " said Victoire. "It took four of them; and atleast two of them have some nice bruises on their shins to show for it. "

"I'm sure they have. And it serves them jolly well right, " saidGuerchard, in a tone of warm approval. "And, I suppose, while thosefour were tying you up the others stood round and looked on. "

"Oh, no, they were far too busy for that, " said Victoire. 

"What were they doing?" said Guerchard. 

"They were taking the pictures off the walls and carrying them out ofthe window down the ladder, " said Victoire. 

Guerchard's eyes flickered towards the Duke, but the expression ofearnest inquiry on his face never changed. 

"Now, tell me, did the man who took a picture from the walls carry itdown the ladder himself, or did he hand it through the window to a manwho was standing on the top of a ladder ready to receive it?" he said. 

Victoire paused as if to recall their action; then she said, "Oh, hegot through the window, and carried it down the ladder himself. "

"You're sure of that?" said Guerchard. 

"Oh, yes, I am quite sure of it--why should I deceive you, Mr. Inspector?" said Victoire quickly; and the Duke saw the first shadow ofuneasiness on her face. 

"Of course not, " said Guerchard. "And where were you?"

"Oh, they put me behind the screen. "

"No, no, where were you when you came into the room?"

"I was against the door, " said Victoire. 

"And where was the screen?" said Guerchard. "Was it before thefireplace?"

"No; it was on one side--the left-hand side, " said Victoire. 

"Oh, will you show me exactly where it stood?" said Guerchard. 

Victoire rose, and, Guerchard aiding her, set the screen on theleft-hand side of the fireplace. 

Guerchard stepped back and looked at it. 

"Now, this is very important, " he said. "I must have the exact positionof the four feet of that screen. Let's see . . . Some chalk . . . Ofcourse. . . . You do some dressmaking, don't you, Madame Victoire?"

"Oh, yes, I sometimes make a dress for one of the maids in my sparetime, " said Victoire. 

"Then you've got a piece of chalk on you, " said Guerchard. 

"Oh, yes, " said Victoire, putting her hand to the pocket of her dress. 

She paused, took a step backwards, and looked wildly round the room, while the colour slowly faded in her ruddy cheeks. 

"What am I talking about?" she said in an uncertain, shaky voice. "Ihaven't any chalk--I--ran out of chalk the day before yesterday. "

"I think you have, Madame Victoire. Feel in your pocket and see, " saidGuerchard sternly. His voice had lost its suavity; his face its smile:his eyes had grown dangerous. 

"No, no; I have no chalk, " cried Victoire. 

With a sudden leap Guerchard sprang upon her, caught her in a firm gripwith his right arm, and his left hand plunged into her pocket. 

"Let me go! Let me go! You're hurting, " she cried. 

Guerchard loosed her and stepped back. 

"What's this?" he said; and he held up between his thumb and forefingera piece of blue chalk. 

Victoire drew herself up and faced him gallantly: "Well, what ofit?--it is chalk. Mayn't an honest woman carry chalk in her pocketswithout being insulted and pulled about by every policeman she comesacross?" she cried. 

"That will be for the examining magistrate to decide, " said Guerchard;and he went to the door and called Bonavent. Bonavent came in, andGuerchard said: "When the prison van comes, put this woman in it; andsend her down to the station. "

"But what have I done?" cried Victoire. "I'm innocent! I declare I'minnocent. I've done nothing at all. It's not a crime to carry a pieceof chalk in one's pocket. "

"Now, that's a matter for the examining magistrate. You can explain itto him, " said Guerchard. "I've got nothing to do with it: so it's nogood making a fuss now. Do go quietly, there's a good woman. "

He spoke in a quiet, business-like tone. Victoire looked him in theeyes, then drew herself up, and went quietly out of the room. 

CHAPTER XVII

SONIA'S ESCAPE

"One of M. Formery's innocents, " said Guerchard, turning to the Duke. 

"The chalk?" said the Duke. "Is it the same chalk?"

"It's blue, " said Guerchard, holding it out. "The same as that of thesignatures on the walls. Add that fact to the woman's suddenrealization of what she was doing, and you'll see that they werewritten with it. "

"It is rather a surprise, " said the Duke. "To look at her you wouldthink that she was the most honest woman in the world. "

"Ah, you don't know Lupin, your Grace, " said Guerchard. "He can doanything with women; and they'll do anything for him. And, what's more, as far as I can see, it doesn't make a scrap of difference whetherthey're honest or not. The fair-haired lady I was telling you about wasprobably an honest woman; Ganimard is sure of it. We should have foundout long ago who she was if she had been a wrong 'un. And Ganimard alsoswears that when he arrested Lupin on board the Provence some woman, some ordinary, honest woman among the passengers, carried away LadyGarland's jewels, which he had stolen and was bringing to America, andalong with them a matter of eight hundred pounds which he had stolenfrom a fellow-passenger on the voyage. "

"That power of fascination which some men exercise on women is one ofthose mysteries which science should investigate before it doesanything else, " said the Duke, in a reflective tone. "Now I come tothink of it, I had much better have spent my time on that investigationthan on that tedious journey to the South Pole. All the same, I'mdeucedly sorry for that woman, Victoire. She looks such a good soul. "

Guerchard shrugged his shoulders: "The prisons are full of good souls, "he said, with cynical wisdom born of experience. "They get caught somuch more often than the bad. "

"It seems rather mean of Lupin to make use of women like this, and getthem into trouble, " said the Duke. 

"But he doesn't, " said Guerchard quickly. "At least he hasn't up tonow. This Victoire is the first we've caught. I look on it as a goodomen. "

He walked across the room, picked up his cloak, and took a card-casefrom the inner pocket of it. "If you don't mind, your Grace, I want youto show this permit to my men who are keeping the door, whenever you goout of the house. It's just a formality; but I attach considerableimportance to it, for I really ought not to make exceptions in favourof any one. I have two men at the door, and they have orders to letnobody out without my written permission. Of course M. Gournay-Martin'sguests are different. Bonavent has orders to pass them out. And, ifyour Grace doesn't mind, it will help me. If you carry a permit, no oneelse will dream of complaining of having to do so. "

"Oh, I don't mind, if it's of any help to you, " said the Dukecheerfully. 

"Thank you, " said Guerchard. And he wrote on his card and handed it tothe Duke. 

The Duke took it and looked at it. On it was written:

 "Pass the Duke of Charmerace. "

 "J. GUERCHARD. "

"It's quite military, " said the Duke, putting the card into hiswaistcoat pocket. 

There came a knock at the door, and a tall, thin, bearded man came intothe room. 

"Ah, Dieusy! At last! What news?" cried Guerchard. 

Dieusy saluted: "I've learnt that a motor-van was waiting outside thenext house--in the side street, " he said. 

"At what time?" said Guerchard. 

"Between four and five in the morning, " said Dieusy. 

"Who saw it?" said Guerchard. 

"A scavenger. He thinks that it was nearly five o'clock when the vandrove off. "

"Between four and five--nearly five. Then they filled up the openingbefore they loaded the van. I thought they would, " said Guerchard, thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

"A few minutes after the van had gone a man in motoring dress came outof the house, " said Dieusy. 

"In motoring dress?" said Guerchard quickly. 

"Yes. And a little way from the house he threw away his cigarette. Thescavenger thought the whole business a little queer, and he picked upthe cigarette and kept it. Here it is. "

He handed it to Guerchard, whose eyes scanned it carelessly and thenglued themselves to it. 

"A gold-tipped cigarette . . . Marked Mercedes . . . Why, your Grace, thisis one of your cigarettes!"

"But this is incredible!" cried the Duke. 

"Not at all, " said Guerchard. "It's merely another link in the chain. I've no doubt you have some of these cigarettes at Charmerace. "

"Oh, yes, I've had a box on most of the tables, " said the Duke. 

"Well, there you are, " said Guerchard. 

"Oh, I see what you're driving at, " said the Duke. "You mean that oneof the Charolais must have taken a box. "

"Well, we know that they'd hardly stick at a box of cigarettes, " saidGuerchard. 

"Yes . . . But I thought . . . " said the Duke; and he paused. 

"You thought what?" said Guerchard. 

"Then Lupin . . . Since it was Lupin who managed the business lastnight--since you found those salvias in the house next door . . . ThenLupin came from Charmerace. "

"Evidently, " said Guerchard. 

"And Lupin is one of the Charolais. "

"Oh, that's another matter, " said Guerchard. 

"But it's certain, absolutely certain, " said the Duke. "We have theconnecting links . . . The salvias . . . This cigarette. "

"It looks very like it. You're pretty quick on a scent, I must say, "said Guerchard. "What a detective you would have made! Only . . . Nothingis certain. "

"But it IS. Whatever more do you want? Was he at Charmerace yesterday, or was he not? Did he, or did he not, arrange the theft of themotor-cars?"

"Certainly he did. But he himself might have remained in the backgroundall the while, " said Guerchard. 

"In what shape? . . . Under what mask? . . . By Jove, I should like to seethis fellow!" said the Duke. 

"We shall see him to-night, " said Guerchard. 

"To-night?" said the Duke. 

"Of course we shall; for he will come to steal the coronet between aquarter to twelve and midnight, " said Guerchard. 

"Never!" said the Duke. "You don't really believe that he'll have thecheek to attempt such a mad act?"

"Ah, you don't know this man, your Grace . . . His extraordinary mixtureof coolness and audacity. It's the danger that attracts him. He throwshimself into the fire, and he doesn't get burnt. For the last ten yearsI've been saying to myself, 'Here we are: this time I've got him! . . . At last I'm going to nab him. ' But I've said that day after day, " saidGuerchard; and he paused. 

"Well?" said the Duke. 

"Well, the days pass; and I never nab him. Oh, he is thick, I tellyou. . . . He's a joker, he is . . . A regular artist"--he ground histeeth--"The damned thief!"

The Duke looked at him, and said slowly, "Then you think that to-nightLupin--"

"You've followed the scent with me, your Grace, " Guerchard interruptedquickly and vehemently. "We've picked up each clue together. You'vealmost seen this man at work. . . . You've understood him. Isn't a manlike this, I ask you, capable of anything?"

"He is, " said the Duke, with conviction. 

"Well, then, " said Guerchard. 

"Perhaps you're right, " said the Duke. 

Guerchard turned to Dieusy and said, in a quieter voice, "And when thescavenger had picked up the cigarette, did he follow the motorist?"

"Yes, he followed him for about a hundred yards. He went down intoSureau Street, and turned westwards. Then a motor-car came along; hegot into it, and went off. "

"What kind of a motor-car?" said Guerchard. 

"A big car, and dark red in colour, " said Dieusy. 

"The Limousine!" cried the Duke. 

"That's all I've got so far, sir, " said Dieusy. 

"Well, off you go, " said Guerchard. "Now that you've got started, you'll probably get something else before very long. "

Dieusy saluted and went. 

"Things are beginning to move, " said Guerchard cheerfully. "FirstVictoire, and now this motor-van. "

"They are indeed, " said the Duke. 

"After all, it ought not to be very difficult to trace that motor-van, "said Guerchard, in a musing tone. "At any rate, its movements ought tobe easy enough to follow up till about six. Then, of course, therewould be a good many others about, delivering goods. "

"You seem to have all the possible information you can want at yourfinger-ends, " said the Duke, in an admiring tone. 

"I suppose I know the life of Paris as well as anybody, " said Guerchard. 

They were silent for a while. Then Germaine's maid, Irma, came into theroom and said:

"If you please, your Grace, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff would like to speakto you for a moment. "

"Oh? Where is she?" said the Duke. 

"She's in her room, your Grace. "

"Oh, very well, I'll go up to her, " said the Duke. "I can speak to herin the library. "

He rose and was going towards the door when Guerchard stepped forward, barring his way, and said, "No, your Grace. "

"No? Why?" said the Duke haughtily. 

"I beg you will wait a minute or two till I've had a word with you, "said Guerchard; and he drew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket andheld it up. 

The Duke looked at Guerchard's face, and he looked at the paper in hishand; then he said: "Oh, very well. " And, turning to Irma, he addedquietly, "Tell Mademoiselle Kritchnoff that I'm in the drawing-room. "

"Yes, your Grace, in the drawing-room, " said Irma; and she turned to go. 

"Yes; and say that I shall be engaged for the next five minutes--thenext five minutes, do you understand?" said the Duke. 

"Yes, your Grace, " said Irma; and she went out of the door. 

"Ask Mademoiselle Kritchnoff to put on her hat and cloak, " saidGuerchard. 

"Yes, sir, " said Irma; and she went. 

The Duke turned sharply on Guerchard, and said: "Now, why on earth? . . . I don't understand. "

"I got this from M. Formery, " said Guerchard, holding up the paper. 

"Well, " said the Duke. "What is it?"

"It's a warrant, your Grace, " said Guerchard. 

"What! . . . A warrant! . . . Not for the arrest of MademoiselleKritchnoff?"

"Yes, " said Guerchard. 

"Oh, come, it's impossible, " said the Duke. "You're never going toarrest that child?"

"I am, indeed, " said Guerchard. "Her examination this afternoon was inthe highest degree unsatisfactory. Her answers were embarrassed, contradictory, and in every way suspicious. "

"And you've made up your mind to arrest her?" said the Duke slowly, knitting his brow in anxious thought. 

"I have, indeed, " said Guerchard. "And I'm going to do it now. Theprison van ought to be waiting at the door. " He looked at his watch. "She and Victoire can go together. "

"So . . . You're going to arrest her . . . You're going to arrest her?"said the Duke thoughtfully: and he took a step or two up and down theroom, still thinking hard. 

"Well, you understand the position, don't you, your Grace?" saidGuerchard, in a tone of apology. "Believe me that, personally, I've noanimosity against Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. In fact, the child attractsme. "

"Yes, " said the Duke softly, in a musing tone. "She has the air of achild who has lost its way . . . Lost its way in life. . . . And that poorlittle hiding-place she found . . . That rolled-up handkerchief . . . Thrown down in the corner of the little room in the house next door . . . It was absolutely absurd. "

"What! A handkerchief!" cried Guerchard, with an air of sudden, uttersurprise. 

"The child's clumsiness is positively pitiful, " said the Duke. 

"What was in the handkerchief? . . . The pearls of the pendant?" criedGuerchard. 

"Yes: I supposed you knew all about it. Of course M. Formery left wordfor you, " said the Duke, with an air of surprise at the ignorance ofthe detective. 

"No: I've heard nothing about it, " cried Guerchard. 

"He didn't leave word for you?" said the Duke, in a tone of greatersurprise. "Oh, well, I dare say that he thought to-morrow would do. Ofcourse you were out of the house when he found it. She must haveslipped out of her room soon after you went. "

"He found a handkerchief belonging to Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. Where isit?" cried Guerchard. 

"M. Formery took the pearls, but he left the handkerchief. I supposeit's in the corner where he found it, " said the Duke. 

"He left the handkerchief?" cried Guerchard. "If that isn't just likethe fool! He ought to keep hens; it's all he's fit for!"

He ran to the fireplace, seized the lantern, and began lighting it:"Where is the handkerchief?" he cried. 

"In the left-hand corner of the little room on the right on the secondfloor. But if you're going to arrest Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, why areyou bothering about the handkerchief? It can't be of any importance, "said the Duke. 

"I beg your pardon, " said Guerchard. "But it is. "

"But why?" said the Duke. 

"I was arresting Mademoiselle Kritchnoff all right because I had a verystrong presumption of her guilt. But I hadn't the slightest proof ofit, " said Guerchard. 

"What?" cried the Duke, in a horrified tone. 

"No, you've just given me the proof; and since she was able to hide thepearls in the house next door, she knew the road which led to it. Therefore she's an accomplice, " said Guerchard, in a triumphant tone. 

"What? Do you think that, too?" cried the Duke. "Good Heavens! And it'sme! . . . It's my senselessness! . . . It's my fault that you've got yourproof!" He spoke in a tone of acute distress. 

"It was your duty to give it me, " said Guerchard sternly; and he beganto mount the steps. 

"Shall I come with you? I know where the handkerchief is, " said theDuke quickly. 

"No, thank you, your Grace, " said Guerchard. "I prefer to go alone. "

"You'd better let me help you, " said the Duke. 

"No, your Grace, " said Guerchard firmly. 

"I must really insist, " said the Duke. 

"No--no--no, " said Guerchard vehemently, with stern decision. "It's nouse your insisting, your Grace; I prefer to go alone. I shall only begone a minute or two. "

"Just as you like, " said the Duke stiffly. 

The legs of Guerchard disappeared up the steps. The Duke stoodlistening with all his ears. Directly he heard the sound of Guerchard'sheels on the floor, when he dropped from the chimney-piece of the nextroom, he went swiftly to the door, opened it, and went out. Bonaventwas sitting on the chair on which the young policeman had sat duringthe afternoon. Sonia, in her hat and cloak, was half-way down thestairs. 

The Duke put his head inside the drawing-room door, and said to theempty room: "Here is Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, M. Guerchard. " He heldopen the door, Sonia came down the stairs, and went through it. TheDuke followed her into the drawing-room, and shut the door. 

"There's not a moment to lose, " he said in a low voice. 

"Oh, what is it, your Grace?" said Sonia anxiously. 

"Guerchard has a warrant for your arrest. "

"Then I'm lost!" cried Sonia, in a panic-stricken voice. 

"No, you're not. You must go--at once, " said the Duke. 

"But how can I go? No one can get out of the house. M. Guerchard won'tlet them, " cried Sonia, panic-stricken. 

"We can get over that, " said the Duke. 

He ran to Guerchard's cloak, took the card-case from the inner pocket, went to the writing-table, and sat down. He took from his waist-coatpocket the permit which Guerchard had given him, and a pencil. Then hetook a card from the card-case, set the permit on the table before him, and began to imitate Guerchard's handwriting with an amazing exactness. He wrote on the card:

 "Pass Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. " "J. GUERCHARD. "

Sonia stood by his side, panting quickly with fear, and watched him doit. He had scarcely finished the last stroke, when they heard a noiseon the other side of the opening into the empty house. The Duke lookedat the fireplace, and his teeth bared in an expression of coldferocity. He rose with clenched fists, and took a step towards thefireplace. 

"Your Grace? Your Grace?" called the voice of Guerchard. 

"What is it?" answered the Duke quietly. 

"I can't see any handkerchief, " said Guerchard. "Didn't you say it wasin the left-hand corner of the little room on the right?"

"I told you you'd better let me come with you, and find it, " said theDuke, in a tone of triumph. "It's in the right-hand corner of thelittle room on the left. "

"I could have sworn you said the little room on the right, " saidGuerchard. 

They heard his footfalls die away. 

"Now, you must get out of the house quickly. " said the Duke. "Show thiscard to the detectives at the door, and they'll pass you without aword. "

He pressed the card into her hand. 

"But--but--this card?" stammered Sonia. 

"There's no time to lose, " said the Duke. 

"But this is madness, " said Sonia. "When Guerchard finds out about thiscard--that you--you--"

"There's no need to bother about that, " interrupted the Duke quickly. "Where are you going to?"

"A little hotel near the Star. I've forgotten the name of it, " saidSonia. "But this card--"

"Has it a telephone?" said the Duke. 

"Yes--No. 555, Central, " said Sonia. 

"If I haven't telephoned to you before half-past eight to-morrowmorning, come straight to my house, " said the Duke, scribbling thetelephone number on his shirt-cuff. 

"Yes, yes, " said Sonia. "But this card. . . . When Guerchard knows . . . When he discovers. . . . Oh, I can't let you get into trouble for me. "

"I shan't. But go--go, " said the Duke, and he slipped his right armround her and drew her to the door. 

"Oh, how good you are to me, " said Sonia softly. 

The Duke's other arm went round her; he drew her to him, and their lipsmet. 

He loosed her, and opened the door, saying loudly: "You're sure youwon't have a cab, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff?"

"No; no, thank you, your Grace. Goodnight, " said Sonia. And she wentthrough the door with a transfigured face. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE DUKE STAYS

The Duke shut the door and leant against it, listening anxiously, breathing quickly. There came the bang of the front door. With a deepsigh of relief he left the door, came briskly, smiling, across theroom, and put the card-case back into the pocket of Guerchard's cloak. He lighted a cigarette, dropped into an easy chair, and sat waitingwith an entirely careless air for the detective's return. Presently heheard quick footsteps on the bare boards of the empty room beyond theopening. Then Guerchard came down the steps and out of the fireplace. 

His face wore an expression of extreme perplexity:

"I can't understand it, " he said. "I found nothing. "

"Nothing?" said the Duke. 

"No. Are you sure you saw the handkerchief in one of those little roomson the second floor--quite sure?" said Guerchard. 

"Of course I did, " said the Duke. "Isn't it there?"

"No, " said Guerchard. 

"You can't have looked properly, " said the Duke, with a touch of ironyin his voice. "If I were you, I should go back and look again. "

"No. If I've looked for a thing, I've looked for it. There's no needfor me to look a second time. But, all the same, it's rather funny. Doesn't it strike you as being rather funny, your Grace?" saidGuerchard, with a worried air. 

"It strikes me as being uncommonly funny, " said the Duke, with anambiguous smile. 

Guerchard looked at him with a sudden uneasiness; then he rang the bell. 

Bonavent came into the room. 

"Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, Bonavent. It's quite time, " said Guerchard. 

"Mademoiselle Kritchnoff?" said Bonavent, with an air of surprise. 

"Yes, it's time that she was taken to the police-station. "

"Mademoiselle Kritchnoff has gone, sir, " said Bonavent, in a tone ofquiet remonstrance. 

"Gone? What do you mean by gone?" said Guerchard. 

"Gone, sir, gone!" said Bonavent patiently. 

"But you're mad. . . . Mad!" cried Guerchard. 

"No, I'm not mad, " said Bonavent. "Gone! But who let her go?" criedGuerchard. 

"The men at the door, " said Bonavent. 

"The men at the door, " said Guerchard, in a tone of stupefaction. "Butshe had to have my permit . . . My permit on my card! Send the fools upto me!"

Bonavent went to the top of the staircase, and called down it. Guerchard followed him. Two detectives came hurrying up the stairs andinto the drawing-room. 

"What the devil do you mean by letting Mademoiselle Kritchnoff leavethe house without my permit, written on my card?" cried Guerchardviolently. 

"But she had your permit, sir, and it WAS written on your card, "stammered one of the detectives. 

"It was? . . . It was?" said Guerchard. "Then, by Jove, it was a forgery!"

He stood thoughtful for a moment. Then quietly he told his two men togo back to their post. He did not stir for a minute or two, puzzling itout, seeking light. 

Then he came back slowly into the drawing-room and looked uneasily atthe Duke. The Duke was sitting in his easy chair, smoking a cigarettewith a listless air. Guerchard looked at him, and looked at him, almostas if he now saw him for the first time. 

"Well?" said the Duke, "have you sent that poor child off to prison? IfI'd done a thing like that I don't think I should sleep very well, M. Guerchard. "

"That poor child has just escaped, by means of a forged permit, " saidGuerchard very glumly. 

"By Jove, I AM glad to hear that!" cried the Duke. "You'll forgive mylack of sympathy, M. Guerchard; but she was such a child. "

"Not too young to be Lupin's accomplice, " said Guerchard drily. 

"You really think she is?" said the Duke, in a tone of doubt. 

"I'm sure of it, " said Guerchard, with decision; then he added slowly, with a perplexed air:

"But how--how--could she get that forged permit?"

The Duke shook his head, and looked as solemn as an owl. Guerchardlooked at him uneasily, went out of the drawing-room, and shut the door. 

"How long has Mademoiselle Kritchnoff been gone?" he said to Bonavent. 

"Not much more than five minutes, " said Bonavent. "She came out fromtalking to you in the drawing-room--"

"Talking to me in the drawing-room!" exclaimed Guerchard. 

"Yes, " said Bonavent. "She came out and went straight down the stairsand out of the house. "

A faint, sighing gasp came from Guerchard's lips. He dashed into thedrawing-room, crossed the room quickly to his cloak, picked it up, tookthe card-case out of the pocket, and counted the cards in it. Then helooked at the Duke. 

The Duke smiled at him, a charming smile, almost caressing. 

There seemed to be a lump in Guerchard's throat; he swallowed it loudly. 

He put the card-case into the breast-pocket of the coat he was wearing. Then he cried sharply, "Bonavent! Bonavent!"

Bonavent opened the door, and stood in the doorway. 

"You sent off Victoire in the prison-van, I suppose, " said Guerchard. 

"Oh, a long while ago, sir, " said Bonavent. 

"The van had been waiting at the door since half-past nine. "

"Since half-past nine? . . . But I told them I shouldn't want it till aquarter to eleven. I suppose they were making an effort to be in timefor once. Well, it doesn't matter, " said Guerchard. 

"Then I suppose I'd better send the other prison-van away?" saidBonavent. 

"What other van?" said Guerchard. 

"The van which has just arrived, " said Bonavent. 

"What! What on earth are you talking about?" cried Guerchard, with asudden anxiety in his voice and on his face. 

"Didn't you order two prison-vans?" said Bonavent. 

Guerchard jumped; and his face went purple with fury and dismay. "Youdon't mean to tell me that two prison-vans have been here?" he cried. 

"Yes, sir, " said Bonavent. 

"Damnation!" cried Guerchard. "In which of them did you put Victoire?In which of them?"

"Why, in the first, sir, " said Bonavent. 

"Did you see the police in charge of it? The coachman?"

"Yes, sir, " said Bonavent. 

"Did you recognize them?" said Guerchard. 

"No, " said Bonavent; "they must have been new men. They told me theycame from the Sante. "

"You silly fool!" said Guerchard through his teeth. "A fine lot ofsense you've got. "

"Why, what's the matter?" said Bonavent. 

"We're done, done in the eye!" roared Guerchard. "It's a stroke--astroke--"

"Of Lupin's!" interposed the Duke softly. 

"But I don't understand, " said Bonavent. 

"You don't understand, you idiot!" cried Guerchard. "You've sentVictoire away in a sham prison-van--a prison-van belonging to Lupin. Oh, that scoundrel! He always has something up his sleeve. "

"He certainly shows foresight, " said the Duke. "It was very clever ofhim to foresee the arrest of Victoire and provide against it. "

"Yes, but where is the leakage? Where is the leakage?" cried Guerchard, fuming. "How did he learn that the doctor said that she would recoverher wits at ten o'clock? Here I've had a guard at the door all day;I've imprisoned the household; all the provisions have been receiveddirectly by a man of mine; and here he is, ready to pick up Victoirethe very moment she gives herself away! Where is the leakage?"

He turned on Bonavent, and went on: "It's no use your standing therewith your mouth open, looking like a fool. Go upstairs to the servants'quarters and search Victoire's room again. That fool of an inspectormay have missed something, just as he missed Victoire herself. Get on!Be smart!"

Bonavent went off briskly. Guerchard paced up and down the room, scowling. 

"Really, I'm beginning to agree with you, M. Guerchard, that this Lupinis a remarkable man, " said the Duke. "That prison-van isextraordinarily neat. "

"I'll prison-van him!" cried Guerchard. "But what fools I have to workwith. If I could get hold of people of ordinary intelligence it wouldbe impossible to play such a trick as that. "

"I don't know about that, " said the Duke thoughtfully. "I think itwould have required an uncommon fool to discover that trick. "

"What on earth do you mean? Why?" said Guerchard. 

"Because it's so wonderfully simple, " said the Duke. "And at the sametime it's such infernal cheek. "

"There's something in that, " said Guerchard grumpily. "But then, I'malways saying to my men, 'Suspect everything; suspect everybody;suspect, suspect, suspect. ' I tell you, your Grace, that there is onlyone motto for the successful detective, and that is that one word, 'suspect. '"

"It can't be a very comfortable business, then, " said the Duke. "But Isuppose it has its charms. "

"Oh, one gets used to the disagreeable part, " said Guerchard. 

The telephone bell rang; and he rose and went to it. He put thereceiver to his ear and said, "Yes; it's I--Chief-Inspector Guerchard. "

He turned and said to the Duke, "It's the gardener at Charmerace, yourGrace. "

"Is it?" said the Duke indifferently. 

Guerchard turned to the telephone. "Are you there?" he said. "Can youhear me clearly? . . . I want to know who was in your hot-house yesterday. . . Who could have gathered some of your pink salvias?"

"I told you that it was I, " said the Duke. 

"Yes, yes, I know, " said Guerchard. And he turned again to thetelephone. "Yes, yesterday, " he said. "Nobody else? . . . No one but theDuke of Charmerace? . . . Are you sure?. . . Quite sure?. . . Absolutelysure? . . . Yes, that's all I wanted to know . . . Thank you. "

He turned to the Duke and said, "Did you hear that, your Grace? Thegardener says that you were the only person in his hot-housesyesterday, the only person who could have plucked any pink salvias. "

"Does he?" said the Duke carelessly. 

Guerchard looked at him, his brow knitted in a faint, pondering frown. Then the door opened, and Bonavent came in: "I've been throughVictoire's room, " he said, "and all I could find that might be of anyuse is this--a prayer-book. It was on her dressing-table just as sheleft it. The inspector hadn't touched it. "

"What about it?" said Guerchard, taking the prayer-book. 

"There's a photograph in it, " said Bonavent. "It may come in usefulwhen we circulate her description; for I suppose we shall try to gethold of Victoire. "

Guerchard took the photograph from the prayer-book and looked at it:"It looks about ten years old, " he said. "It's a good deal faded forreproduction. Hullo! What have we here?"

The photograph showed Victoire in her Sunday best, and with her a boyof seventeen or eighteen. Guerchard's eyes glued themselves to the faceof the boy. He stared at it, holding the portrait now nearer, nowfurther off. His eyes kept stealing covertly from the photograph to theface of the Duke. 

The Duke caught one of those covert glances, and a vague uneasinessflickered in his eyes. Guerchard saw it. He came nearer to the Duke andlooked at him earnestly, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. 

"What's the matter?" said the Duke. "What are you looking at socuriously? Isn't my tie straight?" And he put up his hand and felt it. 

"Oh, nothing, nothing, " said Guerchard. And he studied the photographagain with a frowning face. 

There was a noise of voices and laughter in the hall. 

"Those people are going, " said the Duke. "I must go down and saygood-bye to them. " And he rose and went out of the room. 

Guerchard stood staring, staring at the photograph. 

The Duke ran down the stairs, and said goodbye to the millionaire'sguests. After they had gone, M. Gournay-Martin went quickly up thestairs; Germaine and the Duke followed more slowly. 

"My father is going to the Ritz to sleep, " said Germaine, "and I'mgoing with him. He doesn't like the idea of my sleeping in this houseto-night. I suppose he's afraid that Lupin will make an attack in forcewith all his gang. Still, if he did, I think that Guerchard could givea good account of himself--he's got men enough in the house, at anyrate. Irma tells me it's swarming with them. It would never do for meto be in the house if there were a fight. "

"Oh, come, you don't really believe that Lupin is coming to-night?"said the Duke, with a sceptical laugh. "The whole thing is sheerbluff--he has no more intention of coming tonight to steal that coronetthan--than I have. "

"Oh, well, there's no harm in being on the safe side, " said Germaine. "Everybody's agreed that he's a very terrible person. I'll just run upto my room and get a wrap; Irma has my things all packed. She can comeround tomorrow morning to the Ritz and dress me. "

She ran up the stairs, and the Duke went into the drawing-room. Hefound Guerchard standing where he had left him, still frowning, stillthinking hard. 

"The family are off to the Ritz. It's rather a reflection on yourpowers of protecting them, isn't it?" said the Duke. 

"Oh, well, I expect they'd be happier out of the house, " saidGuerchard. He looked at the Duke again with inquiring, searching eyes. 

"What's the matter?" said the Duke. "IS my tie crooked?"

"Oh, no, no; it's quite straight, your Grace, " said Guerchard, but hedid not take his eyes from the Duke's face. 

The door opened, and in came M. Gournay-Martin, holding a bag in hishand. "It seems to be settled that I'm never to sleep in my own houseagain, " he said in a grumbling tone. 

"There's no reason to go, " said the Duke. "Why ARE you going?"

"Danger, " said M. Gournay-Martin. "You read Lupin's telegram: 'I shallcome to-night between a quarter to twelve and midnight to take thecoronet. ' He knows that it was in my bedroom. Do you think I'm going tosleep in that room with the chance of that scoundrel turning up andcutting my throat?"

"Oh. You can have a dozen policemen in the room if you like, " said theDuke. "Can't he, M. Guerchard?"

"Certainly, " said Guerchard. "I can answer for it that you will be inno danger, M. Gournay-Martin. "

"Thank you, " said the millionaire. "But all the same, outside is goodenough for me. "

Germaine came into the room, cloaked and ready to start. 

"For once in a way you are ready first, papa, " she said. "Are youcoming, Jacques?"

"No; I think I'll stay here, on the chance that Lupin is not bluffing, "said the Duke. "I don't think, myself, that I'm going to be gladdenedby the sight of him--in fact, I'm ready to bet against it. But you'reall so certain about it that I really must stay on the chance. And, after all, there's no doubt that he's a man of immense audacity andready to take any risk. "

"Well, at any rate, if he does come he won't find the diadem, " said M. Gournay-Martin, in a tone of triumph. "I'm taking it with me--I've gotit here. " And he held up his bag. 

"You are?" said the Duke. 

"Yes, I am, " said M. Gournay-Martin firmly. 

"Do you think it's wise?" said the Duke. 

"Why not?" said M. Gournay-Martin. 

"If Lupin's really made up his mind to collar that coronet, and ifyou're so sure that, in spite of all these safeguards, he's going tomake the attempt, it seems to me that you're taking a considerablerisk. He asked you to have it ready for him in your bedroom. He didn'tsay which bedroom. "

"Good Lord! I never thought of that!" said M. Gournay-Martin, with anair of sudden and very lively alarm. 

"His Grace is right, " said Guerchard. "It would be exactly like Lupinto send that telegram to drive you out of the house with the coronet tosome place where you would be less protected. That is exactly one ofhis tricks. "

"Good Heavens!" said the millionaire, pulling out his keys andunlocking the bag. He opened it, paused hesitatingly, and snapped it toagain. 

"Half a minute, " he said. "I want a word with you, Duke. "

He led the way out of the drawing-room door and the Duke followed him. He shut the door and said in a whisper:

"In a case like this, I suspect everybody. "

"Everybody suspects everybody, apparently, " said the Duke. "Are yousure you don't suspect me?"

"Now, now, this is no time for joking, " said the millionaireimpatiently. "What do you think about Guerchard?"

"About Guerchard?" said the Duke. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think I can put full confidence in Guerchard?" said M. Gournay-Martin. 

"Oh, I think so, " said the Duke. "Besides, I shall be here to lookafter Guerchard. And, though I wouldn't undertake to answer for Lupin, I think I can answer for Guerchard. If he tries to escape with thecoronet, I will wring his neck for you with pleasure. It would do megood. And it would do Guerchard good, too. "

The millionaire stood reflecting for a minute or two. Then he said, "Very good; I'll trust him. "

Hardly had the door closed behind the millionaire and the Duke, whenGuerchard crossed the room quickly to Germaine and drew from his pocketthe photograph of Victoire and the young man. 

"Do you know this photograph of his Grace, mademoiselle?" he saidquickly. 

Germaine took the photograph and looked at it. 

"It's rather faded, " she said. 

"Yes; it's about ten years old, " said Guerchard. 

"I seem to know the face of the woman, " said Germaine. "But if it's tenyears old it certainly isn't the photograph of the Duke. "

"But it's like him?" said Guerchard. 

"Oh, yes, it's like the Duke as he is now--at least, it's a little likehim. But it's not like the Duke as he was ten years ago. He has changedso, " said Germaine. 

"Oh, has he?" said Guerchard. 

"Yes; there was that exhausting journey of his--and then his illness. The doctors gave up all hope of him, you know. "

"Oh, did they?" said Guerchard. 

"Yes; at Montevideo. But his health is quite restored now. "

The door opened and the millionaire and the Duke came into the room. M. Gournay-Martin set his bag upon the table, unlocked it, and with asolemn air took out the case which held the coronet. He opened it; andthey looked at it. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" he said with a sigh. 

"Marvellous!" said the Duke. 

M. Gournay-Martin closed the case, and said solemnly:

"There is danger, M. Guerchard, so I am going to trust the coronet toyou. You are the defender of my hearth and home--you are the properperson to guard the coronet. I take it that you have no objection?"

"Not the slightest, M. Gournay-Martin, " said Guerchard. "It's exactlywhat I wanted you to ask me to do. "

M. Gournay-Martin hesitated. Then he handed the coronet to Guerchard, saying with a frank and noble air, "I have every confidence in you, M. Guerchard. "

"Thank you, " said Guerchard. 

"Good-night, " said M. Gournay-Martin. 

"Good-night, M. Guerchard, " said Germaine. 

"I think, after all, I'll change my mind and go with you. I'm veryshort of sleep, " said the Duke. "Good-night, M. Guerchard. "

"You're never going too, your Grace!" cried Guerchard. 

"Why, you don't want me to stay, do you?" said the Duke. 

"Yes, " said Guerchard slowly. 

"I think I would rather go to bed, " said the Duke gaily. 

"Are you afraid?" said Guerchard, and there was challenge, almost aninsolent challenge, in his tone. 

There was a pause. The Duke frowned slightly with a reflective air. Then he drew himself up; and said a little haughtily:

"You've certainly found the way to make me stay, M. Guerchard. "

"Yes, yes; stay, stay, " said M. Gournay-Martin hastily. "It's anexcellent idea, excellent. You're the very man to help M. Guerchard, Duke. You're an intrepid explorer, used to danger and resourceful, absolutely fearless. "

"Do you really mean to say you're not going home to bed, Jacques?" saidGermaine, disregarding her father's wish with her usual frankness. 

"No; I'm going to stay with M. Guerchard, " said the Duke slowly. 

"Well, you will be fresh to go to the Princess's to-morrow night. " saidGermaine petulantly. "You didn't get any sleep at all last night, youcouldn't have. You left Charmerace at eight o'clock; you were motoringall the night, and only got to Paris at six o'clock this morning. "

"Motoring all night, from eight o'clock to six!" muttered Guerchardunder his breath. 

"Oh, that will be all right, " said the Duke carelessly. "Thisinteresting affair is to be over by midnight, isn't it?"

"Well, I warn you that, tired or fresh, you will have to come with meto the Princess's to-morrow night. All Paris will be there--all Paris, that is, who are in Paris. "

"Oh, I shall be fresh enough, " said the Duke. 

They went out of the drawing-room and down the stairs, all four ofthem. There was an alert readiness about Guerchard, as if he were readyto spring. He kept within a foot of the Duke right to the front door. The detective in charge opened it; and they went down the steps to thetaxi-cab which was awaiting them. The Duke kissed Germaine's fingersand handed her into the taxi-cab. 

M. Gournay-Martin paused at the cab-door, and turned and said, with apathetic air, "Am I never to sleep in my own house again?" He got intothe cab and drove off. 

The Duke turned and came up the steps, followed by Guerchard. In thehall he took his opera-hat and coat from the stand, and went upstairs. Half-way up the flight he paused and said:

"Where shall we wait for Lupin, M. Guerchard? In the drawing-room, orin M. Gournay-Martin's bedroom?"

"Oh, the drawing-room, " said Guerchard. "I think it very unlikely thatLupin will look for the coronet in M. Gournay-Martin's bedroom. Hewould know very well that that is the last place to find it now. "

The Duke went on into the drawing-room. At the door Guerchard stoppedand said: "I will just go and post my men, your Grace. "

"Very good, " said the Duke; and he went into the drawing-room. 

He sat down, lighted a cigarette, and yawned. Then he took out hiswatch and looked at it. 

"Another twenty minutes, " he said. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE DUKE GOES

When Guerchard joined the Duke in the drawing-room, he had lost hiscalm air and was looking more than a little nervous. He moved about theroom uneasily, fingering the bric-a-brac, glancing at the Duke andlooking quickly away from him again. Then he came to a standstill onthe hearth-rug with his back to the fireplace. 

"Do you think it's quite safe to stand there, at least with your backto the hearth? If Lupin dropped through that opening suddenly, he'dcatch you from behind before you could wink twice, " said the Duke, in atone of remonstrance. 

"There would always be your Grace to come to my rescue, " saidGuerchard; and there was an ambiguous note in his voice, while hispiercing eyes now rested fixed on the Duke's face. They seemed never toleave it; they explored, and explored it. 

"It's only a suggestion, " said the Duke. 

"This is rather nervous work, don't you know. "

"Yes; and of course you're hardly fit for it, " said Guerchard. "If I'dknown about your break-down in your car last night, I should havehesitated about asking you--"

"A break-down?" interrupted the Duke. 

"Yes, you left Charmerace at eight o'clock last night. And you onlyreached Paris at six this morning. You couldn't have had a veryhigh-power car?" said Guerchard. 

"I had a 100 h. -p. Car, " said the Duke. 

"Then you must have had a devil of a break-down, " said Guerchard. 

"Yes, it was pretty bad, but I've known worse, " said the Dukecarelessly. "It lost me about three hours: oh, at least three hours. I'm not a first-class repairer, though I know as much about an engineas most motorists. "

"And there was nobody there to help you repair it?" said Guerchard. 

"No; M. Gournay-Martin could not let me have his chauffeur to drive meto Paris, because he was keeping him to help guard the chateau. And ofcourse there was nobody on the road, because it was two o'clock in themorning. "

"Yes, there was no one, " said Guerchard slowly. 

"Not a soul, " said the Duke. 

"It was unfortunate, " said Guerchard; and there was a note ofincredulity in his voice. 

"My having to repair the car myself?" said the Duke. 

"Yes, of course, " said Guerchard, hesitating a little over the assent. 

The Duke dropped the end of his cigarette into a tray, and took out hiscase. He held it out towards Guerchard, and said, "A cigarette? orperhaps you prefer your caporal?"

"Yes, I do, but all the same I'll have one, " said Guerchard, comingquickly across the room. And he took a cigarette from the case, andlooked at it. 

"All the same, all this is very curious, " he said in a new tone, achallenging, menacing, accusing tone. 

"What?" said the Duke, looking at him curiously. 

"Everything: your cigarettes . . . The salvias . . . The photograph thatBonavent found in Victoire's prayer-book . . . That man in motoring dress. . . And finally, your break-down, " said Guerchard; and the accusationand the threat rang clearer. 

The Duke rose from his chair quickly and said haughtily, in icy tones:"M. Guerchard, you've been drinking!"

He went to the chair on which he had set his overcoat and his hat, andpicked them up. Guerchard sprang in front of him, barring his way, andcried in a shaky voice: "No; don't go! You mustn't go!"

"What do you mean?" said the Duke, and paused. "What DO you mean?"

Guerchard stepped back, and ran his hand over his forehead. He was verypale, and his forehead was clammy to his touch:

"No . . . I beg your pardon . . . I beg your pardon, your Grace . . . I mustbe going mad, " he stammered. 

"It looks very like it, " said the Duke coldly. 

"What I mean to say is, " said Guerchard in a halting, uncertain voice, "what I mean to say is: help me . . . I want you to stay here, to help meagainst Lupin, you understand. Will you, your Grace?"

"Yes, certainly; of course I will, if you want me to, " said the Duke, in a more gentle voice. "But you seem awfully upset, and you'reupsetting me too. We shan't have a nerve between us soon, if you don'tpull yourself together. "

"Yes, yes, please excuse me, " muttered Guerchard. 

"Very good, " said the Duke. "But what is it we're going to do?"

Guerchard hesitated. He pulled out his handkerchief, and mopped hisforehead: "Well . . . The coronet . . . Is it in this case?" he said in ashaky voice, and set the case on the table. 

"Of course it is, " said the Duke impatiently. 

Guerchard opened the case, and the coronet sparkled and gleamedbrightly in the electric light: "Yes, it is there; you see it?" saidGuerchard. 

"Yes, I see it; well?" said the Duke, looking at him in somebewilderment, so unlike himself did he seem. 

"We're going to wait, " said Guerchard. 

"What for?" said the Duke. 

"Lupin, " said Guerchard. 

"Lupin? And you actually do believe that, just as in a fairy tale, whenthat clock strikes twelve, Lupin will enter and take the coronet?"

"Yes, I do; I do, " said Guerchard with stubborn conviction. And hesnapped the case to. 

"This is most exciting, " said the Duke. 

"You're sure it doesn't bore you?" said Guerchard huskily. 

"Not a bit of it, " said the Duke, with cheerful derision. "To make theacquaintance of this scoundrel who has fooled you for ten years is ascharming a way of spending the evening as I can think of. "

"You say that to me?" said Guerchard with a touch of temper. 

"Yes, " said the Duke, with a challenging smile. "To you. "

He sat down in an easy chair by the table. Guerchard sat down in achair on the other side of it, and set his elbows on it. They weresilent. 

Suddenly the Duke said, "Somebody's coming. "

Guerchard started, and said: "No, I don't hear any one. "

Then there came distinctly the sound of a footstep and a knock at thedoor. 

"You've got keener ears than I, " said Guerchard grudgingly. "In allthis business you've shown the qualities of a very promisingdetective. " He rose, went to the door, and unlocked it. 

Bonavent came in: "I've brought you the handcuffs, sir, " he said, holding them out. "Shall I stay with you?"

"No, " said Guerchard. "You've two men at the back door, and two at thefront, and a man in every room on the ground-floor?"

"Yes, and I've got three men on every other floor, " said Bonavent, in atone of satisfaction. 

"And the house next door?" said Guerchard. 

"There are a dozen men in it, " said Bonavent. "No communication betweenthe two houses is possible any longer. "

Guerchard watched the Duke's face with intent eyes. Not a shadowflickered its careless serenity. 

"If any one tries to enter the house, collar him. If need be, fire onhim, " said Guerchard firmly. "That is my order; go and tell the others. "

"Very good, sir, " said Bonavent; and he went out of the room. 

"By Jove, we are in a regular fortress, " said the Duke. 

"It's even more of a fortress than you think, your Grace. I've four menon that landing, " said Guerchard, nodding towards the door. 

"Oh, have you?" said the Duke, with a sudden air of annoyance. 

"You don't like that?" said Guerchard quickly. 

"I should jolly well think not, " said the Duke. "With theseprecautions, Lupin will never be able to get into this room at all. "

"He'll find it a pretty hard job, " said Guerchard, smiling. "Unless hefalls from the ceiling, or unless--"

"Unless you're Arsene Lupin, " interrupted the Duke. 

"In that case, you'd be another, your Grace, " said Guerchard. 

They both laughed. The Duke rose, yawned, picked up his coat and hat, and said, "Ah, well, I'm off to bed. "

"What?" said Guerchard. 

"Well, " said the Duke, yawning again, "I was staying to see Lupin. Asthere's no longer any chance of seeing him--"

"But there is . . . There is . . . So stay, " cried Guerchard. 

"Do you still cling to that notion?" said the Duke wearily. 

"We SHALL see him, " said Guerchard. 

"Nonsense!" said the Duke. 

Guerchard lowered his voice and said with an air of the deepestsecrecy: "He's already here, your Grace. "

"Lupin? Here?" cried the Duke. 

"Yes; Lupin, " said Guerchard. 

"Where?" cried the astonished Duke. 

"He is, " said Guerchard. 

"As one of your men?" said the Duke eagerly. 

"I don't think so, " said Guerchard, watching him closely. 

"Well, but, well, but--if he's here we've got him. . . . He is going toturn up, " said the Duke triumphantly; and he set down his hat on thetable beside the coronet. 

"I hope so, " said Guerchard. "But will he dare to?"

"How do you mean?" said the Duke, with a puzzled air. 

"Well, you have said yourself that this is a fortress. An hour ago, perhaps, Lupin was resolved to enter this room, but is he now?"

"I see what you mean, " said the Duke, in a tone of disappointment. 

"Yes; you see that now it needs the devil's own courage. He must riskeverything to gain everything, and throw off the mask. Is Lupin goingto throw himself into the wolf's jaws? I dare not think it. What do youthink about it?"

Guerchard's husky voice had hardened to a rough harshness; there was aring of acute anxiety in it, and under the anxiety a faint note ofchallenge, of a challenge that dare not make itself too distinct. Hisanxious, challenging eyes burned on the face of the Duke, as if theystrove with all intensity to pierce a mask. 

The Duke looked at him curiously, as if he were trying to divine whathe would be at, but with a careless curiosity, as if it were a matterof indifference to him what the detective's object was; then he saidcarelessly: "Well, you ought to know better than I. You have known himfor ten years . . . . " He paused, and added with just the faintest stressin his tone, "At least, by reputation. "

The anxiety in the detective's face grew plainer, it almost gave himthe air of being unnerved; and he said quickly, in a jerky voice: "Yes, and I know his way of acting too. During the last ten years I havelearnt to unravel his intrigues--to understand and anticipate hismanoeuvres. . . . Oh, his is a clever system! . . . Instead of lying low, asyou'd expect, he attacks his opponent . . . Openly. . . . He confuseshim--at least, he tries to. " He smiled a half-confident, ahalf-doubtful smile, "It is a mass of entangled, mysteriouscombinations. I've been caught in them myself again and again. Yousmile?"

"It interests me so, " said the Duke, in a tone of apology. 

"Oh, it interests me, " said Guerchard, with a snarl. "But this time Isee my way clearly. No more tricks--no more secret paths . . . We'refighting in the light of day. " He paused, and said in a clear, sneeringvoice, "Lupin has pluck, perhaps, but it's only thief's pluck. "

"Oh, is it?" said the Duke sharply, and there was a sudden faintglitter in his eyes. 

"Yes; rogues have very poor qualities, " sneered Guerchard. 

"One can't have everything, " said the Duke quietly; but his languid airhad fallen from him. 

"Their ambushes, their attacks, their fine tactics aren't up to much, "said Guerchard, smiling contemptuously. 

"You go a trifle too far, I think, " said the Duke, smiling with equalcontempt. 

They looked one another in the eyes with a long, lingering look. Theyhad suddenly the air of fencers who have lost their tempers, and aretwisting the buttons off their foils. 

"Not a bit of it, your Grace, " said Guerchard; and his voice lingeredon the words "your Grace" with a contemptuous stress. "This famousLupin is immensely overrated. "

"However, he has done some things which aren't half bad, " said theDuke, with his old charming smile. 

He had the air of a duelist drawing his blade lovingly through hisfingers before he falls to. 

"Oh, has he?" said Guerchard scornfully. 

"Yes; one must be fair. Last night's burglary, for instance: it is notunheard of, but it wasn't half bad. And that theft of the motorcars: itwas a neat piece of work, " said the Duke in a gentle, insolent voice, infinitely aggravating. 

Guerchard snorted scornfully. 

"And a robbery at the British Embassy, another at the Treasury, and athird at M. Lepine's--all in the same week--it wasn't half bad, don'tyou know?" said the Duke, in the same gentle, irritating voice. 

"Oh, no, it wasn't. But--"

"And the time when he contrived to pass as Guerchard--the GreatGuerchard--do you remember that?" the Duke interrupted. "Come, come--togive the devil his due--between ourselves--it wasn't half bad. "

"No, " snarled Guerchard. "But he has done better than that lately. . . . Why don't you speak of that?"

"Of what?" said the Duke. 

"Of the time when he passed as the Duke of Charmerace, " snappedGuerchard. 

"What! Did he do that?" cried the Duke; and then he added slowly, "But, you know, I'm like you--I'm so easy to imitate. "

"What would have been amusing, your Grace, would have been to get asfar as actual marriage, " said Guerchard more calmly. 

"Oh, if he had wanted to, " said the Duke; and he threw out his hands. "But you know--married life--for Lupin. "

"A large fortune . . . A pretty girl, " said Guerchard, in a mocking tone. 

"He must be in love with some one else, " said the Duke. 

"A thief, perhaps, " sneered Guerchard. 

"Like himself. . . . And then, if you wish to know what I think, he musthave found his fiancee rather trying, " said the Duke, with his charmingsmile. 

"After all, it's pitiful--heartrending, you must admit it, that, on thevery eve of his marriage, he was such a fool as to throw off the mask. And yet at bottom it's quite logical; it's Lupin coming out throughCharmerace. He had to grab at the dowry at the risk of losing thegirl, " said Guerchard, in a reflective tone; but his eyes were intenton the face of the Duke. 

"Perhaps that's what one should call a marriage of reason, " said theDuke, with a faint smile. 

"What a fall!" said Guerchard, in a taunting voice. "To be expected, eagerly, at the Princess's to-morrow evening, and to pass the eveningin a police-station . . . To have intended in a month's time, as the Dukeof Charmerace, to mount the steps of the Madeleine with all pomp and tofall down the father-in-law's staircase this evening--this veryevening"--his voice rose suddenly on a note of savage triumph--"withthe handcuffs on! What? Is that a good enough revenge forGuerchard--for that poor old idiot, Guerchard? The rogues' Brummel in aconvict's cap! The gentleman-burglar in a gaol! For Lupin it's only atrifling annoyance, but for a duke it's a disaster! Come, in your turn, be frank: don't you find that amusing?"

The Duke rose quietly, and said coldly, "Have you finished?"

"DO you?" cried Guerchard; and he rose and faced him. 

"Oh, yes; I find it quite amusing, " said the Duke lightly. 

"And so do I, " cried Guerchard. 

"No; you're frightened, " said the Duke calmly. 

"Frightened!" cried Guerchard, with a savage laugh. 

"Yes, you're frightened, " said the Duke. "And don't think, policeman, that because I'm familiar with you, I throw off a mask. I don't wearone. I've none to throw off. I AM the Duke of Charmerace. "

"You lie! You escaped from the Sante four years ago. You are Lupin! Irecognize you now. "

"Prove it, " said the Duke scornfully. 

"I will!" cried Guerchard. 

"You won't. I AM the Duke of Charmerace. "

Guerchard laughed wildly. 

"Don't laugh. You know nothing--nothing, dear boy, " said the Duketauntingly. 

"Dear boy?" cried Guerchard triumphantly, as if the word had been aconfession. 

"What do I risk?" said the Duke, with scathing contempt. "Can youarrest me? . . . You can arrest Lupin . . . But arrest the Duke ofCharmerace, an honourable gentleman, member of the Jockey Club, and ofthe Union, residing at his house, 34 B, University Street . . . Arrestthe Duke of Charmerace, the fiance of Mademoiselle Gournay-Martin?"

"Scoundrel!" cried Guerchard, pale with sudden, helpless fury. 

"Well, do it, " taunted the Duke. "Be an ass. . . . Make yourself thelaughing-stock of Paris . . . Call your coppers in. Have you a proof--onesingle proof? Not one. "

"Oh, I shall get them, " howled Guerchard, beside himself. 

"I think you may, " said the Duke coolly. "And you might be able toarrest me next week . . . The day after to-morrow perhaps . . . Perhapsnever . . . But not to-night, that's certain. "

"Oh, if only somebody could hear you!" gasped Guerchard. 

"Now, don't excite yourself, " said the Duke. "That won't produce anyproofs for you. . . . The fact is, M. Formery told you the truth when hesaid that, when it is a case of Lupin, you lose your head. Ah, thatFormery--there is an intelligent man if you like. "

"At all events, the coronet is safe . . . To-night--"

"Wait, my good chap . . . Wait, " said the Duke slowly; and then hesnapped out: "Do you know what's behind that door?" and he flung outhis hand towards the door of the inner drawing-room, with a mysterious, sinister air. 

"What?" cried Guerchard; and he whipped round and faced the door, withhis eyes starting out of his head. 

"Get out, you funk!" said the Duke, with a great laugh. 

"Hang you!" said Guerchard shrilly. 

"I said that you were going to be absolutely pitiable, " said the Duke, and he laughed again cruelly. 

"Oh, go on talking, do!" cried Guerchard, mopping his forehead. 

"Absolutely pitiable, " said the Duke, with a cold, disquietingcertainty. "As the hand of that clock moves nearer and nearer midnight, you will grow more and more terrified. " He paused, and then shoutedviolently, "Attention!"

Guerchard jumped; and then he swore. 

"Your nerves are on edge, " said the Duke, laughing. 

"Joker!" snarled Guerchard. 

"Oh, you're as brave as the next man. But who can stand the anguish ofthe unknown thing which is bound to happen? . . . I'm right. You feel it, you're sure of it. At the end of these few fixed minutes an inevitable, fated event must happen. Don't shrug your shoulders, man; you're greenwith fear. "

The Duke was no longer a smiling, cynical dandy. There emanated fromhim an impression of vivid, terrible force. His voice had deepened. Itthrilled with a consciousness of irresistible power; it wasoverwhelming, paralyzing. His eyes were terrible. 

"My men are outside . . . I'm armed, " stammered Guerchard. 

"Child! Bear in mind . . . Bear in mind that it is always when you haveforeseen everything, arranged everything, made every combination . . . Bear in mind that it is always then that some accident dashes yourwhole structure to the ground, " said the Duke, in the same deep, thrilling voice. "Remember that it is always at the very moment atwhich you are going to triumph that he beats you, that he only lets youreach the top of the ladder to throw you more easily to the ground. "

"Confess, then, that you are Lupin, " muttered Guerchard. 

"I thought you were sure of it, " said the Duke in a jeering tone. 

Guerchard dragged the handcuffs out of his pocket, and said between histeeth, "I don't know what prevents me, my boy. "

The Duke drew himself up, and said haughtily, "That's enough. "

"What?" cried Guerchard. 

"I say that that's enough, " said the Duke sternly. "It's all very wellfor me to play at being familiar with you, but don't you call me 'myboy. '"

"Oh, you won't impose on me much longer, " muttered Guerchard; and hisbloodshot, haggard eyes scanned the Duke's face in an agony, an anguishof doubting impotence. 

"If I'm Lupin, arrest me, " said the Duke. 

"I'll arrest you in three minutes from now, or the coronet will beuntouched, " cried Guerchard in a firmer tone. 

"In three minutes from now the coronet will have been stolen; and youwill not arrest me, " said the Duke, in a tone of chilling certainty. 

"But I will! I swear I will!" cried Guerchard. 

"Don't swear any foolish oaths! . . . THERE ARE ONLY TWO MINUTES LEFT, "said the Duke; and he drew a revolver from his pocket. 

"No, you don't!" cried Guerchard, drawing a revolver in his turn. 

"What's the matter?" said the Duke, with an air of surprise. "Youhaven't forbidden me to shoot Lupin. I have my revolver ready, sincehe's going to come. . . . THERE'S ONLY A MINUTE LEFT. "

"There are plenty of us, " said Guerchard; and he went towards the door. 

"Funk!" said the Duke scornfully. 

Guerchard turned sharply. "Very well, " he said, "I'll stick it outalone. "

"How rash!" sneered the Duke. 

Guerchard ground his teeth. He was panting; his bloodshot eyes rolledin their sockets; the beads of cold sweat stood out on his forehead. Hecame back towards the table on unsteady feet, trembling from head tofoot in the last excitation of the nerves. He kept jerking his head toshake away the mist which kept dimming his eyes. 

"At your slightest gesture, at your slightest movement, I'll fire, " hesaid jerkily, and covered the Duke with his revolver. 

"I call myself the Duke of Charmerace. You will be arrested to-morrow!"said the Duke, in a compelling, thrilling voice. 

"I don't care a curse!" cried Guerchard. 

"Only FIFTY SECONDS!" said the Duke. 

"Yes, yes, " muttered Guerchard huskily. And his eyes shot from thecoronet to the Duke, from the Duke to the coronet. 

"In fifty seconds the coronet will be stolen, " said the Duke. 

"No!" cried Guerchard furiously. 

"Yes, " said the Duke coldly. 

"No! no! no!" cried Guerchard. 

Their eyes turned to the clock. 

To Guerchard the hands seemed to be standing still. He could have swornat them for their slowness. 

Then the first stroke rang out; and the eyes of the two men met likecrossing blades. Twice the Duke made the slightest movement. TwiceGuerchard started forward to meet it. 

At the last stroke both their hands shot out. Guerchard's fell heavilyon the case which held the coronet. The Duke's fell on the brim of hishat; and he picked it up. 

Guerchard gasped and choked. Then he cried triumphantly:

"I HAVE it; now then, have I won? Have I been fooled this time? HasLupin got the coronet?"

"It doesn't look like it. But are you quite sure?" said the Duke gaily. 

"Sure?" cried Guerchard. 

"It's only the weight of it, " said the Duke, repressing a laugh. "Doesn't it strike you that it's just a trifle light?"

"What?" cried Guerchard. 

"This is merely an imitation. " said the Duke, with a gentle laugh. 

"Hell and damnation!" howled Guerchard. "Bonavent! Dieusy!"

The door flew open, and half a dozen detectives rushed in. 

Guerchard sank into a chair, stupefied, paralyzed; this blow, on thetop of the strain of the struggle with the Duke, had broken him. 

"Gentlemen, " said the Duke sadly, "the coronet has been stolen. "

They broke into cries of surprise and bewilderment, surrounding thegasping Guerchard with excited questions. 

The Duke walked quietly out of the room. 

Guerchard sobbed twice; his eyes opened, and in a dazed fashionwandered from face to face; he said faintly: "Where is he?"

"Where's who?" said Bonavent. 

"The Duke--the Duke!" gasped Guerchard. 

"Why, he's gone!" said Bonavent. 

Guerchard staggered to his feet and cried hoarsely, frantically: "Stophim from leaving the house! Follow him! Arrest him! Catch him before hegets home!"

CHAPTER XX

LUPIN COMES HOME

The cold light of the early September morning illumined but dimly thecharming smoking-room of the Duke of Charmerace in his house at 34 B, University Street, though it stole in through two large windows. Thesmoking-room was on the first floor; and the Duke's bedroom opened intoit. It was furnished in the most luxurious fashion, but with a tastewhich nowadays infrequently accompanies luxury. The chairs were of themost comfortable, but their lines were excellent; the couch against thewall, between the two windows, was the last word in the matter ofcomfort. The colour scheme, of a light greyish-blue, was almost toobright for a man's room; it would have better suited a boudoir. Itsuggested that the owner of the room enjoyed an uncommon lightness andcheerfulness of temperament. On the walls, with wide gaps between themso that they did not clash, hung three or four excellent pictures. Twoballet-girls by Degas, a group of shepherdesses and shepherds, in pinkand blue and white beribboned silk, by Fragonard, a portrait of a womanby Bastien-Lepage, a charming Corot, and two Conder fans showed thatthe taste of their fortunate owner was at any rate eclectic. At the endof the room was, of all curious things, the opening into the well of alift. The doors of it were open, though the lift itself was on someother floor. To the left of the opening stood a book-case, its shelvesloaded with books of a kind rather suited to a cultivated, thoughtfulman than to an idle dandy. 

Beside the window, half-hidden, and peering through the side of thecurtain into the street, stood M. Charolais. But it was hardly the M. Charolais who had paid M. Gournay-Martin that visit at the Chateau deCharmerace, and departed so firmly in the millionaire's favouritemotor-car. This was a paler M. Charolais; he lacked altogether therich, ruddy complexion of the millionaire's visitor. His nose, too, wasthinner, and showed none of the ripe acquaintance with the vintages ofthe world which had been so plainly displayed on it during its owner'svisit to the country. Again, hair and eyebrows were no longer black, but fair; and his hair was no longer curly and luxuriant, but thin andlank. His moustache had vanished, and along with it the dress of awell-to-do provincial man of business. He wore a livery of theCharmeraces, and at that early morning hour had not yet assumed theblue waistcoat which is an integral part of it. Indeed it would haverequired an acute and experienced observer to recognize in him thebogus purchaser of the Mercrac. Only his eyes, his close-set eyes, wereunchanged. 

Walking restlessly up and down the middle of the room, keeping out ofsight of the windows, was Victoire. She wore a very anxious air, as didCharolais too. By the door stood Bernard Charolais; and his natural, boyish timidity, to judge from his frightened eyes, had assumed anacute phase. 

"By the Lord, we're done!" cried Charolais, starting back from thewindow. "That was the front-door bell. "

"No, it was only the hall clock, " said Bernard. 

"That's seven o'clock! Oh, where can he be?" said Victoire, wringingher hands. "The coup was fixed for midnight. . . . Where can he be?"

"They must be after him, " said Charolais. "And he daren't come home. "Gingerly he drew back the curtain and resumed his watch. 

"I've sent down the lift to the bottom, in case he should come back bythe secret entrance, " said Victoire; and she went to the opening intothe well of the lift and stood looking down it, listening with all herears. 

"Then why, in the devil's name, have you left the doors open?" criedCharolais irritably. "How do you expect the lift to come up if thedoors are open?"

"I must be off my head!" cried Victoire. 

She stepped to the side of the lift and pressed a button. The doorsclosed, and there was a grunting click of heavy machinery settling intoa new position. 

"Suppose we telephone to Justin at the Passy house?" said Victoire. 

"What on earth's the good of that?" said Charolais impatiently. "Justinknows no more than we do. How can he know any more?"

"The best thing we can do is to get out, " said Bernard, in a shakyvoice. 

"No, no; he will come. I haven't given up hope, " Victoire protested. "He's sure to come; and he may need us. "

"But, hang it all! Suppose the police come! Suppose they ransack hispapers. . . . He hasn't told us what to do . . . We are not ready forthem. . . . What are we to do?" cried Charolais, in a tone of despair. 

"Well, I'm worse off than you are; and I'm not making a fuss. If thepolice come they'll arrest me, " said Victoire. 

"Perhaps they've arrested him, " said Bernard, in his shaky voice. 

"Don't talk like that, " said Victoire fretfully. "Isn't it bad enoughto wait and wait, without your croaking like a scared crow?"

She started again her pacing up and down the room, twisting her hands, and now and again moistening her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. 

Presently she said: "Are those two plain-clothes men still therewatching?" And in her anxiety she came a step nearer the window. 

"Keep away from the window!" snapped Charolais. "Do you want to berecognized, you great idiot?" Then he added, more quietly, "They'restill there all right, curse them, in front of the cafe. . . . Hullo!"

"What is it, now?" cried Victoire, starting. 

"A copper and a detective running, " said Charolais. "They are runningfor all they're worth. "

"Are they coming this way?" said Victoire; and she ran to the door andcaught hold of the handle. 

"No, " said Charolais. 

"Thank goodness!" said Victoire. 

"They're running to the two men watching the house . . . They're tellingthem something. Oh, hang it, they're all running down the street. "

"This way? . . . Are they coming this way?" cried Victoire faintly; andshe pressed her hand to her side. 

"They are!" cried Charolais. "They are!" And he dropped the curtainwith an oath. 

"And he isn't here! Suppose they come. . . . Suppose he comes to the frontdoor! They'll catch him!" cried Victoire. 

There came a startling peal at the front-door bell. They stood frozento stone, their eyes fixed on one another, staring. 

The bell had hardly stopped ringing, when there was a slow, whirringnoise. The doors of the lift flew open, and the Duke stepped out of it. But what a changed figure from the admirably dressed dandy who hadwalked through the startled detectives and out of the house of M. Gournay-Martin at midnight! He was pale, exhausted, almost fainting. His eyes were dim in a livid face; his lips were grey. He was pantingheavily. He was splashed with mud from head to foot: one sleeve of hiscoat was torn along half its length. The sole of his left-hand pump washalf off; and his cut foot showed white and red through the torn sock. 

"The master! The master!" cried Charolais in a tone of extravagantrelief; and he danced round the room snapping his fingers. 

"You're wounded?" cried Victoire. 

"No, " said Arsene Lupin. 

The front-door bell rang out again, startling, threatening, terrifying. 

The note of danger seemed to brace Lupin, to spur him to a last effort. 

He pulled himself together, and said in a hoarse but steady voice:"Your waistcoat, Charolais. . . . Go and open the door . . . Not too quickly. . . Fumble the bolts. . . . Bernard, shut the book-case. Victoire, get outof sight, do you want to ruin us all? Be smart now, all of you. Besmart!"

He staggered past them into his bedroom, and slammed the door. Victoireand Charolais hurried out of the room, through the anteroom, on to thelanding. Victoire ran upstairs, Charolais went slowly down. Bernardpressed the button. The doors of the lift shut and there was a slowwhirring as it went down. He pressed another button, and the book-caseslid slowly across and hid the opening into the lift-well. Bernard ranout of the room and up the stairs. 

Charolais went to the front door and fumbled with the bolts. He bawledthrough the door to the visitors not to be in such a hurry at that hourin the morning; and they bawled furiously at him to be quick, andknocked and rang again and again. He was fully three minutes fumblingwith the bolts, which were already drawn. At last he opened the door aninch or two, and looked out. 

On the instant the door was dashed open, flinging him back against thewall; and Bonavent and Dieusy rushed past him, up the stairs, as hardas they could pelt. A brown-faced, nervous, active policeman followedthem in and stopped to guard the door. 

On the landing the detectives paused, and looked at one another, hesitating. 

"Which way did he go?" said Bonavent. "We were on his very heels. "

"I don't know; but we've jolly well stopped his getting into his ownhouse; and that's the main thing, " said Dieusy triumphantly. 

"But are you sure it was him?" said Bonavent, stepping into theanteroom. 

"I can swear to it, " said Dieusy confidently; and he followed him. 

Charolais came rushing up the stairs and caught them up as they wereentering the smoking-room:

"Here! What's all this?" he cried. "You mustn't come in here! His Graceisn't awake yet. "

"Awake? Awake? Your precious Duke has been galloping all night, " criedDieusy. "And he runs devilish well, too. "

The door of the bedroom opened; and Lupin stood on the threshold inslippers and pyjamas. 

"What's all this?" he snapped, with the irritation of a man whose sleephas been disturbed; and his tousled hair and eyes dim with exhaustiongave him every appearance of being still heavy with sleep. 

The eyes and mouths of Bonavent and Dieusy opened wide; and they staredat him blankly, in utter bewilderment and wonder. 

"Is it you who are making all this noise?" said Lupin, frowning atthem. "Why, I know you two; you're in the service of M. Guerchard. "

"Yes, your Grace, " stammered Bonavent. 

"Well, what are you doing here? What is it you want?" said Lupin. 

"Oh, nothing, your Grace . . . Nothing . . . There's been a mistake, "stammered Bonavent. 

"A mistake?" said Lupin haughtily. "I should think there had been amistake. But I take it that this is Guerchard's doing. I'd better dealwith him directly. You two can go. " He turned to Charolais and addedcurtly, "Show them out. "

Charolais opened the door, and the two detectives went out of the roomwith the slinking air of whipped dogs. They went down the stairs insilence, slowly, reflectively; and Charolais let them out of the frontdoor. 

As they went down the steps Dieusy said: "What a howler! Guerchardrisks getting the sack for this!"

"I told you so, " said Bonavent. "A duke's a duke. "

When the door closed behind the two detectives Lupin tottered acrossthe room, dropped on to the couch with a groan of exhaustion, andclosed his eyes. Presently the door opened, Victoire came in, saw hisattitude of exhaustion, and with a startled cry ran to his side. 

"Oh, dearie! dearie!" she cried. "Pull yourself together! Oh, do try topull yourself together. " She caught his cold hands and began to rubthem, murmuring words of endearment like a mother over a young child. Lupin did not open his eyes; Charolais came in. 

"Some breakfast!" she cried. "Bring his breakfast . . . He's faint . . . He's had nothing to eat this morning. Can you eat some breakfast, dearie?"

"Yes, " said Lupin faintly. 

"Hurry up with it, " said Victoire in urgent, imperative tones; andCharolais left the room at a run. 

"Oh, what a life you lead!" said Victoire, or, to be exact, she wailedit. "Are you never going to change? You're as white as a sheet. . . . Can't you speak, dearie?"

She stooped and lifted his legs on to the couch. 

He stretched himself, and, without opening his eyes, said in a faintvoice: "Oh, Victoire, what a fright I've had!"

"You? You've been frightened?" cried Victoire, amazed. 

"Yes. You needn't tell the others, though. But I've had a night of it. . . I did play the fool so . . . I must have been absolutely mad. Once Ihad changed the coronet under that fat old fool Gournay-Martin's veryeyes . . . Once you and Sonia were out of their clutches, all I had to dowas to slip away. Did I? Not a bit of it! I stayed there out of sheerbravado, just to score off Guerchard. . . . And then I . . . I, who pridemyself on being as cool as a cucumber . . . I did the one thing I oughtnot to have done. . . . Instead of going quietly away as the Duke ofCharmerace . . . What do you think I did? . . . I bolted . . . I startedrunning . . . Running like a thief. . . . In about two seconds I saw theslip I had made. It did not take me longer; but that was toolong--Guerchard's men were on my track . . . I was done for. "

"Then Guerchard understood--he recognized you?" said Victoire anxiously. 

"As soon as the first paralysis had passed, Guerchard dared to seeclearly . . . To see the truth, " said Lupin. "And then it was a chase. There were ten--fifteen of them on my heels. Out of breath--grunting, furious--a mob--a regular mob. I had passed the night before in amotor-car. I was dead beat. In fact, I was done for before I started. . . And they were gaining ground all the time. "

"Why didn't you hide?" said Victoire. 

"For a long while they were too close. They must have been within fivefeet of me. I was done. Then I was crossing one of the bridges. . . . There was the Seine . . . Handy . . . I made up my mind that, rather thanbe taken, I'd make an end of it . . . I'd throw myself over. "

"Good Lord!--and then?" cried Victoire. 

"Then I had a revulsion of feeling. At any rate, I'd stick it out tothe end. I gave myself another minute. . . One more minute--the last, andI had my revolver on me. . . But during that minute I put forth everyounce of strength I had left . . . I began to gain ground . . . I had thempretty well strung out already . . . They were blown too. The knowledgegave me back my courage, and I plugged on . . . My feet did not feel somuch as though they were made of lead. I began to run away from them. . . They were dropping behind . . . All of them but one . . . He stuck tome. We went at a jog-trot, a slow jog-trot, for I don't know how long. Then we dropped to a walk--we could run no more; and on we went. Mystrength and wind began to come back. I suppose my pursuer's did too;for exactly what I expected happened. He gave a yell and dashed for me. I was ready for him. I pretended to start running, and when he waswithin three yards of me I dropped on one knee, caught his ankles, andchucked him over my head. I don't know whether he broke his neck ornot. I hope he did. "

"Splendid!" said Victoire. "Splendid!"

"Well, there I was, outside Paris, and I'm hanged if I know where. Iwent on half a mile, and then I rested. Oh, how sleepy I was! I wouldhave given a hundred thousand francs for an hour's sleep--cheerfully. But I dared not let myself sleep. I had to get back here unseen. Therewere you and Sonia. "

"Sonia? Another woman?" cried Victoire. "Oh, it's then that I'mfrightened . . . When you get a woman mixed up in your game. Always, whenyou come to grief . . . When you really get into danger, there's a womanin it. "

"Oh, but she's charming!" protested Lupin. 

"They always are, " said Victoire drily. "But go on. Tell me how you gothere. "

"Well, I knew it was going to be a tough job, so I took a good rest--anhour, I should think. And then I started to walk back. I found that Ihad come a devil of a way--I must have gone at Marathon pace. I walkedand walked, and at last I got into Paris, and found myself with still acouple of miles to go. It was all right now; I should soon find a cab. But the luck was dead against me. I heard a man come round the cornerof a side-street into a long street I was walking down. He gave a yell, and came bucketing after me. It was that hound Dieusy. He hadrecognized my figure. Off I went; and the chase began again. I led hima dance, but I couldn't shake him off. All the while I was working myway towards home. Then, just at last, I spurted for all I was worth, got out of his sight, bolted round the corner of the street into thesecret entrance, and here I am. " He smiled weakly, and added, "Oh, mydear Victoire, what a profession it is!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE CUTTING OF THE TELEPHONE WIRES

The door opened, and in came Charolais, bearing a tray. 

"Here's your breakfast, master, " he said. 

"Don't call me master--that's how his men address Guerchard. It's adisgusting practice, " said Lupin severely. 

Victoire and Charolais were quick laying the table. Charolais kept up arunning fire of questions as he did it; but Lupin did not trouble toanswer them. He lay back, relaxed, drawing deep breaths. Already hislips had lost their greyness, and were pink; there was a suggestion ofblood under the skin of his pale face. They soon had the table laid;and he walked to it on fairly steady feet. He sat down; Charolaiswhipped off a cover, and said:

"Anyhow, you've got out of the mess neatly. It was a jolly smartescape. "

"Oh, yes. So far it's all right, " said Lupin. "But there's going to betrouble presently--lots of it. I shall want all my wits. We all shall. "

He fell upon his breakfast with the appetite but not the manners of awolf. Charolais went out of the room. Victoire hovered about him, pouring out his coffee and putting sugar into it. 

"By Jove, how good these eggs are!" he said. "I think that, of all thethousand ways of cooking eggs, en cocotte is the best. "

"Heavens! how empty I was!" he said presently. "What a meal I'm making!It's really a very healthy life, this of mine, Victoire. I feel muchbetter already. "

"Oh, yes; it's all very well to talk, " said Victoire, in a scoldingtone; for since he was better, she felt, as a good woman should, thatthe time had come to put in a word out of season. "But, all the same, you're trying to kill yourself--that's what you're doing. Just becauseyou're young you abuse your youth. It won't last for ever; and you'llbe sorry you used it up before it's time. And this life of lies andthefts and of all kinds of improper things--I suppose it's going tobegin all over again. It's no good your getting a lesson. It's justthrown away upon you. "

"What I want next is a bath, " said Lupin. 

"It's all very well your pretending not to listen to me, when you knowvery well that I'm speaking for your good, " she went on, raising hervoice a little. "But I tell you that all this is going to end badly. Tobe a thief gives you no position in the world--no position at all--andwhen I think of what you made me do the night before last, I'm justhorrified at myself. "

"We'd better not talk about that--the mess you made of it! It waspositively excruciating!" said Lupin. 

"And what did you expect? I'm an honest woman, I am!" said Victoiresharply. "I wasn't brought up to do things like that, thank goodness!And to begin at my time of life!"

"It's true, and I often ask myself how you bring yourself to stick tome, " said Lupin, in a reflective, quite impersonal tone. "Please pourme out another cup of coffee. "

"That's what I'm always asking myself, " said Victoire, pouring out thecoffee. "I don't know--I give it up. I suppose it is because I'm fondof you. "

"Yes, and I'm very fond of you, my dear Victoire, " said Lupin, in acoaxing tone. 

"And then, look you, there are things that there's no understanding. Ioften talked to your poor mother about them. Oh, your poor mother!Whatever would she have said to these goings-on?"

Lupin helped himself to another cutlet; his eves twinkled and he said, "I'm not sure that she would have been very much surprised. I alwaystold her that I was going to punish society for the way it had treatedher. Do you think she would have been surprised?"

"Oh, nothing you did would have surprised her, " said Victoire. "Whenyou were quite a little boy you were always making us wonder. You gaveyourself such airs, and you had such nice manners of yourown--altogether different from the other boys. And you were already abad boy, when you were only seven years old, full of all kinds oftricks; and already you had begun to steal. "

"Oh, only sugar, " protested Lupin. 

"Yes, you began by stealing sugar, " said Victoire, in the severe tonesof a moralist. "And then it was jam, and then it was pennies. Oh, itwas all very well at that age--a little thief is pretty enough. Butnow--when you're twenty-eight years old. "

"Really, Victoire, you're absolutely depressing, " said Lupin, yawning;and he helped himself to jam. 

"I know very well that you're all right at heart, " said Victoire. "Ofcourse you only rob the rich, and you've always been kind to thepoor. . . . Yes; there's no doubt about it: you have a good heart. "

"I can't help it--what about it?" said Lupin, smiling. 

"Well, you ought to have different ideas in your head. Why are you aburglar?"

"You ought to try it yourself, my dear Victoire, " said Lupin gently;and he watched her with a humorous eye. 

"Goodness, what a thing to say!" cried Victoire. 

"I assure you, you ought, " said Lupin, in a tone of thoughtfulconviction. "I've tried everything. I've taken my degree in medicineand in law. I have been an actor, and a professor of Jiu-jitsu. I haveeven been a member of the detective force, like that wretchedGuerchard. Oh, what a dirty world that is! Then I launched out intosociety. I have been a duke. Well, I give you my word that not one ofthese professions equals that of burglar--not even the profession ofDuke. There is so much of the unexpected in it, Victoire--the splendidunexpected. . . . And then, it's full of variety, so terrible, sofascinating. " His voice sank a little, and he added, "And what fun itis!"

"Fun!" cried Victoire. 

"Yes . . . These rich men, these swells in their luxury--when onerelieves them of a bank-note, how they do howl! . . . You should haveseen that fat old Gournay-Martin when I relieved him of histreasures--what an agony! You almost heard the death-rattle in histhroat. And then the coronet! In the derangement of their minds--and itwas sheer derangement, mind you--already prepared at Charmerace, in thederangement of Guerchard, I had only to put out my hand and pluck thecoronet. And the joy, the ineffable joy of enraging the police! To seeGuerchard's furious eyes when I downed him. . . . And look round you!" Hewaved his hand round the luxurious room. "Duke of Charmerace! Thistrade leads to everything . . . To everything on condition that onesticks to it . . . . I tell you, Victoire, that when one cannot be a greatartist or a great soldier, the only thing to be is a great thief!"

"Oh, be quiet!" cried Victoire. "Don't talk like that. You're workingyourself up; you're intoxicating yourself! And all that, it is notCatholic. Come, at your age, you ought to have one idea in your headwhich should drive out all these others, which should make you forgetall these thefts. . . . Love . . . That would change you, I'm sure of it. That would make another man of you. You ought to marry. "

"Yes . . . Perhaps . . . That would make another man of me. That's whatI've been thinking. I believe you're right, " said Lupin thoughtfully. 

"Is that true? Have you really been thinking of it?" cried Victoirejoyfully. 

"Yes, " said Lupin, smiling at her eagerness. "I have been thinkingabout it--seriously. "

"No more messing about--no more intrigues. But a real woman . . . A womanfor life?" cried Victoire. 

"Yes, " said Lupin softly; and his eyes were shining in a very graveface. 

"Is it serious--is it real love, dearie?" said Victoire. "What's shelike?"

"She's beautiful, " said Lupin. 

"Oh, trust you for that. Is she a blonde or a brunette?"

"She's very fair and delicate--like a princess in a fairy tale, " saidLupin softly. 

"What is she? What does she do?" said Victoire. 

"Well, since you ask me, she's a thief, " said Lupin with a mischievoussmile. 

"Good Heavens!" cried Victoire. 

"But she's a very charming thief, " said Lupin; and he rose smiling. 

He lighted a cigar, stretched himself and yawned: "She had ever so muchmore reason for stealing than ever I had, " he said. "And she has alwayshated it like poison. "

"Well, that's something, " said Victoire; and her blank and fallen facebrightened a little. 

Lupin walked up and down the room, breathing out long luxurious puffsof smoke from his excellent cigar, and watching Victoire with ahumorous eye. He walked across to his book-shelf, and scanned thetitles of his books with an appreciative, almost affectionate smile. 

"This is a very pleasant interlude, " he said languidly. "But I don'tsuppose it's going to last very long. As soon as Guerchard recoversfrom the shock of learning that I spent a quiet night in my ducal bedas an honest duke should, he'll be getting to work with positivelyfurious energy, confound him! I could do with a whole day'ssleep--twenty-four solid hours of it. "

"I'm sure you could, dearie, " said Victoire sympathetically. 

"The girl I'm going to marry is Sonia Kritchnoff, " he said. 

"Sonia? That dear child! But I love her already!" cried Victoire. "Sonia, but why did you say she was a thief? That was a silly thing tosay. "

"It's my extraordinary sense of humour, " said Lupin. 

The door opened and Charolais bustled in: "Shall I clear away thebreakfast?" he said. 

Lupin nodded; and then the telephone bell rang. He put his finger onhis lips and went to it. 

"Are you there?" he said. "Oh, it's you, Germaine. . . . Good morning. . . . Oh, yes, I had a good night--excellent, thank you. . . . You want to speakto me presently? . . . You're waiting for me at the Ritz?"

"Don't go--don't go--it isn't safe, " said Victoire, in a whisper. 

"All right, I'll be with you in about half an hour, or perhapsthree-quarters. I'm not dressed yet . . . But I'm ever so much moreimpatient than you . . . Good-bye for the present. " He put the receiveron the stand. 

"It's a trap, " said Charolais. 

"Never mind, what if it is? Is it so very serious?" said Lupin. "There'll be nothing but traps now; and if I can find the time I shallcertainly go and take a look at that one. "

"And if she knows everything? If she's taking her revenge . . . If she'sgetting you there to have you arrested?" said Victoire. 

"Yes, M. Formery is probably at the Ritz with Gournay-Martin. They'reprobably all of them there, weighing the coronet, " said Lupin, with achuckle. 

He hesitated a moment, reflecting; then he said, "How silly you are! Ifthey wanted to arrest me, if they had the material proof which theyhaven't got, Guerchard would be here already!"

"Then why did they chase you last night?" said Charolais. 

"The coronet, " said Lupin. "Wasn't that reason enough? But, as itturned out, they didn't catch me: and when the detectives did comehere, they disturbed me in my sleep. And that me was ever so much moreme than the man they followed. And then the proofs . . . They must haveproofs. There aren't any--or rather, what there are, I've got!" Hepointed to a small safe let into the wall. "In that safe are thecoronet, and, above all, the death certificate of the Duke ofCharmerace . . . Everything that Guerchard must have to induce M. Formeryto proceed. But still, there is a risk--I think I'd better have thosethings handy in case I have to bolt. "

He went into his bedroom and came back with the key of the safe and akit-bag. He opened the safe and took out the coronet, the real coronetof the Princesse de Lamballe, and along with it a pocket-book with afew papers in it. He set the pocket-book on the table, ready to put inhis coat-pocket when he should have dressed, and dropped the coronetinto the kit-bag. 

"I'm glad I have that death certificate; it makes it much safer, " hesaid. "If ever they do nab me, I don't wish that rascal Guerchard toaccuse me of having murdered the Duke. It might prejudice me badly. I've not murdered anybody yet. "

"That comes of having a good heart, " said Victoire proudly. 

"Not even the Duke of Charmerace, " said Charolais sadly. "And it wouldhave been so easy when he was ill--just one little draught. And he wasin such a perfect place--so out of the way--no doctors. "

"You do have such disgusting ideas, Charolais, " said Lupin, in a toneof severe reproof. 

"Instead of which you went and saved his life, " said Charolais, in atone of deep discontent; and he went on clearing the table. 

"I did, I did: I had grown quite fond of him, " said Lupin, with ameditative air. "For one thing, he was so very like one. I'm not surethat he wasn't even better-looking. "

"No; he was just like you, " said Victoire, with decision. "Any onewould have said you were twin brothers. "

"It gave me quite a shock the first time I saw his portrait, " saidLupin. "You remember, Charolais? It was three years ago, the day, orrather the night, of the first Gournay-Martin burglary at Charmerace. Do you remember?"

"Do I remember?" said Charolais. "It was I who pointed out the likenessto you. I said, 'He's the very spit of you, master. ' And you said, 'There's something to be done with that, Charolais. ' And then off youstarted for the ice and snow and found the Duke, and became his friend;and then he went and died, not that you'd have helped him to, if hehadn't. "

"Poor Charmerace. He was indeed grand seigneur. With him a great namewas about to be extinguished. . . . Did I hesitate? . . . No. . . . I continuedit, " said Lupin. 

He paused and looked at the clock. "A quarter to eight, " he said, hesitating. "Shall I telephone to Sonia, or shall I not? Oh, there's nohurry; let the poor child sleep on. She must be worn out after thatnight-journey and that cursed Guerchard's persecution yesterday. I'lldress first, and telephone to her afterwards. I'd better be gettingdressed, by the way. The work I've got to do can't be done in pyjamas. I wish it could; for bed's the place for me. My wits aren't quite asclear as I could wish them to deal with an awkward business like this. Well, I must do the best I can with them. "

He yawned and went to the bedroom, leaving the pocket-book on the table. 

"Bring my shaving-water, Charolais, and shave me, " he said, pausing;and he went into the bedroom and shut the door. 

"Ah, " said Victoire sadly, "what a pity it is! A few years ago he wouldhave gone to the Crusades; and to-day he steals coronets. What a pityit is!"

"I think myself that the best thing we can do is to pack up ourbelongings, " said Charolais. "And I don't think we've much time to doit either. This particular game is at an end, you may take it from me. "

"I hope to goodness it is: I want to get back to the country, " saidVictoire. 

He took up the tray; and they went out of the room. On the landing theyseparated; she went upstairs and he went down. Presently he came upwith the shaving water and shaved his master; for in the house inUniversity Street he discharged the double functions of valet andbutler. He had just finished his task when there came a ring at thefront-door bell. 

"You'd better go and see who it is, " said Lupin. 

"Bernard is answering the door, " said Charolais. "But perhaps I'dbetter keep an eye on it myself; one never knows. "

He put away the razor leisurely, and went. On the stairs he foundBonavent, mounting--Bonavent, disguised in the livery and fiercemoustache of a porter from the Ritz. 

"Why didn't you come to the servants' entrance?" said Charolais, withthe truculent air of the servant of a duke and a stickler for hismaster's dignity. 

"I didn't know that there was one, " said Bonavent humbly. "Well, youought to have known that there was; and it's plain enough to see. Whatis it you want?" said Charolais. 

"I've brought a letter--a letter for the Duke of Charmerace, " saidBonavent. 

"Give it to me, " said Charolais. "I'll take it to him. "

"No, no; I'm to give it into the hands of the Duke himself and tonobody else, " said Bonavent. 

"Well, in that case, you'll have to wait till he's finished dressing, "said Charolais. 

They went on up to the stairs into the ante-room. Bonavent was walkingstraight into the smoking-room. 

"Here! where are you going to? Wait here, " said Charolais quickly. "Take a chair; sit down. "

Bonavent sat down with a very stolid air, and Charolais looked at himdoubtfully, in two minds whether to leave him there alone or not. Before he had decided there came a thundering knock on the front door, not only loud but protracted. Charolais looked round with a scared air;and then ran out of the room and down the stairs. 

On the instant Bonavent was on his feet, and very far from stolid. Heopened the door of the smoking-room very gently and peered in. It wasempty. He slipped noiselessly across the room, a pair of clippers readyin his hand, and cut the wires of the telephone. His quick eye glancedround the room and fell on the pocket-book on the table. He snatched itup, and slipped it into the breast of his tunic. He had scarcely doneit--one button of his tunic was still to fasten--when the bedroom dooropened, and Lupin came out:

"What do you want?" he said sharply; and his keen eyes scanned theporter with a disquieting penetration. 

"I've brought a letter to the Duke of Charmerace, to be given into hisown hands, " said Bonavent, in a disguised voice. 

"Give it to me, " said Lupin, holding out his hand. 

"But the Duke?" said Bonavent, hesitating. 

"I am the Duke, " said Lupin. 

Bonavent gave him the letter, and turned to go. 

"Don't go, " said Lupin quietly. "Wait, there may be an answer. "

There was a faint glitter in his eyes; but Bonavent missed it. 

Charolais came into the room, and said, in a grumbling tone, "Arun-away knock. I wish I could catch the brats; I'd warm them. Theywouldn't go fetching me away from my work again, in a hurry, I can tellyou. "

Lupin opened the letter, and read it. As he read it, at first hefrowned; then he smiled; and then he laughed joyously. It ran:

"SIR, "

"M. Guerchard has told me everything. With regard to Sonia I havejudged you: a man who loves a thief can be nothing but a rogue. I havetwo pieces of news to announce to you: the death of the Duke ofCharmerace, who died three years ago, and my intention of becomingengaged to his cousin and heir, M. De Relzieres, who will assume thetitle and the arms. "

"For Mademoiselle Gournay-Martin, " "Her maid, IRMA. "

"She does write in shocking bad taste, " said Lupin, shaking his headsadly. "Charolais, sit down and write a letter for me. "

"Me?" said Charolais. 

"Yes; you. It seems to be the fashion in financial circles; and I ambound to follow it when a lady sets it. Write me a letter, " said Lupin. 

Charolais went to the writing-table reluctantly, sat down, set a sheetof paper on the blotter, took a pen in his hand, and sighed painfully. 

"Ready?" said Lupin; and he dictated:

"MADEMOISELLE, "

"I have a very robust constitution, and my indisposition will very soonbe over. I shall have the honour of sending, this afternoon, my humblewedding present to the future Madame de Relzieres. "

"For Jacques de Bartut, Marquis de Relzieres, Prince of Virieux, Dukeof Charmerace. "

"His butler, ARSENE. "

"Shall I write Arsene?" said Charolais, in a horrified tone. 

"Why not?" said Lupin. "It's your charming name, isn't it?"

Bonavent pricked up his ears, and looked at Charolais with a newinterest. 

Charolais shrugged his shoulders, finished the letter, blotted it, putit in an envelope, addressed it, and handed it to Lupin. 

"Take this to Mademoiselle Gournay-Martin, " said Lupin, handing it toBonavent. 

Bonavent took the letter, turned, and had taken one step towards thedoor when Lupin sprang. His arm went round the detective's neck; hejerked him backwards off his feet, scragging him. 

"Stir, and I'll break your neck!" he cried in a terrible voice; andthen he said quietly to Charolais, "Just take my pocket-book out ofthis fellow's tunic. "

Charolais, with deft fingers, ripped open the detective's tunic, andtook out the pocket-book. 

"This is what they call Jiu-jitsu, old chap! You'll be able to teach itto your colleagues, " said Lupin. He loosed his grip on Bonavent, andknocked him straight with a thump in the back, and sent him flyingacross the room. Then he took the pocket-book from Charolais and madesure that its contents were untouched. 

"Tell your master from me that if he wants to bring me down he'd betterfire the gun himself, " said Lupin contemptuously. "Show the gentlemanout, Charolais. "

Bonavent staggered to the door, paused, and turned on Lupin a facelivid with fury. 

"He will be here himself in ten minutes, " he said. 

"Many thanks for the information, " said Lupin quietly. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE BARGAIN

Charolais conducted the detective down the stairs and let him out ofthe front door, cursing and threatening vengeance as he went. Charolaistook no notice of his words--he was the well-trained servant. He cameback upstairs, and on the landing called to Victoire and Bernard. Theycame hurrying down; and the three of them went into the smoking-room. 

"Now we know where we are, " said Lupin, with cheerful briskness. "Guerchard will be here in ten minutes with a warrant for my arrest. All of you clear out. "

"It won't be so precious easy. The house is watched, " said Charolais. "And I'll bet it's watched back and front. "

"Well, slip out by the secret entrance. They haven't found that yet, "said Lupin. "And meet me at the house at Passy. "

Charolais and Bernard wanted no more telling; they ran to the book-caseand pressed the buttons; the book-case slid aside; the doors opened anddisclosed the lift. They stepped into it. Victoire had followed them. She paused and said: "And you? Are you coming?"

"In an instant I shall slip out the same way, " he said. 

"I'll wait for him. You go on, " said Victoire; and the lift went down. 

Lupin went to the telephone, rang the bell, and put the receiver to hisear. 

"You've no time to waste telephoning. They may be here at any moment!"cried Victoire anxiously. 

"I must. If I don't telephone Sonia will come here. She will run rightinto Guerchard's arms. Why the devil don't they answer? They must bedeaf!" And he rang the bell again. 

"Let's go to her! Let's get out of here!" cried Victoire, moreanxiously. "There really isn't any time to waste. "

"Go to her? But I don't know where she is. I lost my head last night, "cried Lupin, suddenly anxious himself. "Are you there?" he shouted intothe telephone. "She's at a little hotel near the Star. . . . Are youthere? . . . But there are twenty hotels near the Star. . . . Are you there?. . . Oh, I did lose my head last night. . . . Are you there? Oh, hang thistelephone! Here I'm fighting with a piece of furniture. And everysecond is important!"

He picked up the machine, shook it, saw that the wires were cut, andcried furiously: "Ha! They've played the telephone trick on me! That'sGuerchard. . . . The swine!"

"And now you can come along!" cried Victoire. 

"But that's just what I can't do!" he cried. 

"But there's nothing more for you to do here, since you can no longertelephone, " said Victoire, bewildered. 

Lupin caught her arm and shook her, staring into her face withpanic-stricken eyes. "But don't you understand that, since I haven'ttelephoned, she'll come here?" he cried hoarsely. "Five-and-twentyminutes past eight! At half-past eight she will start--start to comehere. "

His face had suddenly grown haggard; this new fear had brought back allthe exhaustion of the night; his eyes were panic-stricken. 

"But what about you?" said Victoire, wringing her hands. 

"What about her?" said Lupin; and his voice thrilled with anguisheddread. 

"But you'll gain nothing by destroying both of you--nothing at all. "

"I prefer it, " said Lupin slowly, with a suddenly stubborn air. 

"But they're coming to take you, " cried Victoire, gripping his arm. 

"Take me?" cried Lupin, freeing himself quietly from her grip. And hestood frowning, plunged in deep thought, weighing the chances, therisks, seeking a plan, saving devices. 

He crossed the room to the writing-table, opened a drawer, and took outa cardboard box about eight inches square and set it on the table. 

"They shall never take me alive, " he said gloomily. 

"Oh, hush, hush!" said Victoire. "I know very well that you're capableof anything . . . And they too--they'll destroy you. No, look you, youmust go. They won't do anything to her--a child like that--so frail. She'll get off quite easily. You're coming, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not, " said Lupin stubbornly. 

"Oh, well, if you won't, " said Victoire; and with an air of resolutionshe went to the side of the lift-well, and pressed the buttons. Thedoors closed; the book-case slid across. She sat down and folded herarms. 

"What, you're not going to stop here?" cried Lupin. 

"Make me stir if you can. I'm as fond of you as she is--you know I am, "said Victoire, and her face set stonily obstinate. 

Lupin begged her to go; ordered her to go; he seized her by theshoulder, shook her, and abused her like a pickpocket. She would notstir. He abandoned the effort, sat down, and knitted his brow again inprofound and painful thought, working out his plan. Now and again hiseyes flashed, once or twice they twinkled. Victoire watched his facewith just the faintest hope on her own. 

It was past five-and-twenty minutes to nine when the front-door bellrang. They gazed at one another with an unspoken question on theirlips. The eyes of Victoire were scared, but in the eyes of Lupin thelight of battle was gathering. 

"It's her, " said Victoire under her breath. 

"No, " said Lupin. "It's Guerchard. "

He sprang to his feet with shining eyes. His lips were curved in afighting smile. "The game isn't lost yet, " he said in a tense, quietvoice. "I'm going to play it to the end. I've a card or two leftstill--good cards. I'm still the Duke of Charmerace. " He turned to her. 

"Now listen to me, " he said. "Go down and open the door for him. "

"What, you want me to?" said Victoire, in a shaky voice. 

"Yes, I do. Listen to me carefully. When you have opened the door, slipout of it and watch the house. Don't go too far from it. Look out forSonia. You'll see her coining. Stop her from entering, Victoire--stopher from entering. " He spoke coolly, but his voice shook on the lastwords. 

"But if Guerchard arrests me?" said Victoire. 

"He won't. When he comes in, stand behind the door. He will be tooeager to get to me to stop for you. Besides, for him you don't count inthe game. Once you're out of the house, I'll hold him here for--forhalf an hour. That will leave a margin. Sonia will hurry here. Sheshould be here in twelve minutes. Get her away to the house at Passy. If I don't come keep her there; she's to live with you. But I shallcome. "

As he spoke he was pushing her towards the door. 

The bell rang again. They were at the top of the stairs. 

"And suppose he does arrest me?" said Victoire breathlessly. 

"Never mind, you must go all the same, " said Lupin. "Don't give uphope--trust to me. Go--go--for my sake. "

"I'm going, dearie, " said Victoire; and she went down the stairssteadily, with a brave air. 

He watched her half-way down the flight; then he muttered:

"If only she gets to Sonia in time. "

He turned, went into the smoking-room, and shut the door. He satquietly down in an easy chair, lighted a cigarette, and took up apaper. He heard the noise of the traffic in the street grow louder asthe front door was opened. There was a pause; then he heard the doorbang. There was the sound of a hasty footstep on the stairs; the doorflew open, and Guerchard bounced into the room. 

He stopped short in front of the door at the sight of Lupin, quietlyreading, smoking at his ease. He had expected to find the bird flown. He stood still, hesitating, shuffling his feet--all his doubts hadreturned; and Lupin smiled at him over the lowered paper. 

Guerchard pulled himself together by a violent effort, and saidjerkily, "Good-morning, Lupin. "

"Good-morning, M. Guerchard, " said Lupin, with an ambiguous smile andall the air of the Duke of Charmerace. 

"You were expecting me? . . . I hope I haven't kept you waiting, " saidGuerchard, with an air of bravado. 

"No, thank you: the time has passed quite quickly. I have so much to doin the morning always, " said Lupin. "I hope you had a good night afterthat unfortunate business of the coronet. That was a disaster; and sounexpected too. "

Guerchard came a few steps into the room, still hesitating:

"You've a very charming house here, " he said, with a sneer. 

"It's central, " said Lupin carelessly. "You must please excuse me, if Icannot receive you as I should like; but all my servants have bolted. Those confounded detectives of yours have frightened them away. "

"You needn't bother about that. I shall catch them, " said Guerchard. 

"If you do, I'm sure I wish you joy of them. Do, please, keep your haton, " said Lupin with ironic politeness. 

Guerchard came slowly to the middle of the room, raising his hand tohis hat, letting it fall again without taking it off. He sat downslowly facing him, and they gazed at one another with the wary eyes ofduellists crossing swords at the beginning of a duel. 

"Did you get M. Formery to sign a little warrant?" said Lupin, in acaressing tone full of quiet mockery. 

"I did, " said Guerchard through his teeth. 

"And have you got it on you?" said Lupin. 

"I have, " said Guerchard. 

"Against Lupin, or against the Duke of Charmerace?" said Lupin. 

"Against Lupin, called Charmerace, " said Guerchard. 

"Well, that ought to cover me pretty well. Why don't you arrest me?What are you waiting for?" said Lupin. His face was entirely serene, his eyes were careless, his tone indifferent. 

"I'm not waiting for anything, " said Guerchard thickly; "but it givesme such pleasure that I wish to enjoy this minute to the utmost. Lupin, " said Guerchard; and his eyes gloated on him. 

"Lupin, himself, " said Lupin, smiling. 

"I hardly dare believe it, " said Guerchard. 

"You're quite right not to, " said Lupin. 

"Yes, I hardly dare believe it. You alive, here at my mercy?"

"Oh, dear no, not yet, " said Lupin. 

"Yes, " said Guerchard, in a decisive tone. "And ever so much more thanyou think. " He bent forwards towards him, with his hands on his knees, and said, "Do you know where Sonia Kritchnoff is at this moment?"

"What?" said Lupin sharply. 

"I ask if you know where Sonia Kritchnoff is?" said Guerchard slowly, lingering over the words. 

"Do you?" said Lupin. 

"I do, " said Guerchard triumphantly. 

"Where is she?" said Lupin, in a tone of utter incredulity. 

"In a small hotel near the Star. The hotel has a telephone; and you canmake sure, " said Guerchard. 

"Indeed? That's very interesting. What's the number of it?" said Lupin, in a mocking tone. 

"555 Central: would you like to telephone to her?" said Guerchard; andhe smiled triumphantly at the disabled instrument. 

Lupin shock his head with a careless smile, and said, "Why should Itelephone to her? What are you driving at?"

"Nothing . . . That's all, " said Guerchard. And he leant back in hischair with an ugly smile on his face. 

"Evidently nothing. For, after all, what has that child got to do withyou? You're not interested in her, plainly. She's not big enough gamefor you. It's me you are hunting . . . It's me you hate . . . It's me youwant. I've played you tricks enough for that, you old scoundrel. Soyou're going to leave that child in peace? . . . You're not going torevenge yourself on her? . . . It's all very well for you to be apoliceman; it's all very well for you to hate me; but there are thingsone does not do. " There was a ring of menace and appeal in the deep, ringing tones of his voice. "You're not going to do that, Guerchard. . . . You will not do it. . . . Me--yes--anything you like. But her--her youmust not touch. " He gazed at the detective with fierce, appealing eyes. 

"That depends on you, " said Guerchard curtly. 

"On me?" cried Lupin, in genuine surprise. 

"Yes, I've a little bargain to propose to you, " said Guerchard. 

"Have you?" said Lupin; and his watchful face was serene again, hissmile almost pleasant. 

"Yes, " said Guerchard. And he paused, hesitating. 

"Well, what is it you want?" said Lupin. "Out with it! Don't be shyabout it. "

"I offer you--"

"You offer me?" cried Lupin. "Then it isn't true. You're fooling me. "

"Reassure yourself, " said Guerchard coldly. "To you personally I offernothing. "

"Then you are sincere, " said Lupin. "And putting me out of thequestion?"

"I offer you liberty. "

"Who for? For my concierge?" said Lupin. 

"Don't play the fool. You care only for a single person in the world. Ihold you through her: Sonia Kritchnoff. "

Lupin burst into a ringing, irrepressible laugh:

"Why, you're trying to blackmail me, you old sweep!" he cried. 

"If you like to call it so, " said Guerchard coldly. 

Lupin rose and walked backwards and forwards across the room, frowning, calculating, glancing keenly at Guerchard, weighing him. Twice helooked at the clock. 

He stopped and said coldly: "So be it. For the moment you're thestronger. . . . That won't last. . . . But you offer me this child's liberty. "

"That's my offer, " said Guerchard; and his eyes brightened at theprospect of success. 

"Her complete liberty? . . . On your word of honour?" said Lupin; and hehad something of the air of a cat playing with a mouse. 

"On my word of honour, " said Guerchard. 

"Can you do it?" said Lupin, with a sudden air of doubt; and he lookedsharply from Guerchard to the clock. 

"I undertake to do it, " said Guerchard confidently. 

"But how?" said Lupin, looking at him with an expression of the gravestdoubt. 

"Oh, I'll put the thefts on your shoulders. That will let her out allright, " said Guerchard. 

"I've certainly good broad shoulders, " said Lupin, with a bitter smile. He walked slowly up and down with an air that grew more and moredepressed: it was almost the air of a beaten man. Then he stopped andfaced Guerchard, and said: "And what is it you want in exchange?"

"Everything, " said Guerchard, with the air of a man who is winning. "You must give me back the pictures, tapestry, Renaissance cabinets, the coronet, and all the information about the death of the Duke ofCharmerace. Did you kill him?"

"If ever I commit suicide, you'll know all about it, my good Guerchard. You'll be there. You may even join me, " said Lupin grimly; he resumedhis pacing up and down the room. 

"Done for, yes; I shall be done for, " he said presently. "The fact is, you want my skin. "

"Yes, I want your skin, " said Guerchard, in a low, savage, vindictivetone. 

"My skin, " said Lupin thoughtfully. 

"Are you going to do it? Think of that girl, " said Guerchard, in afresh access of uneasy anxiety. 

Lupin laughed: "I can give you a glass of port, " he said, "but I'mafraid that's all I can do for you. "

"I'll throw Victoire in, " said Guerchard. 

"What?" cried Lupin. "You've arrested Victoire?" There was a ring ofutter dismay, almost despair, in his tone. 

"Yes; and I'll throw her in. She shall go scot-free. I won't botherwith her, " said Guerchard eagerly. 

The front-door bell rang. 

"Wait, wait. Let me think, " said Lupin hoarsely; and he strove toadjust his jostling ideas, to meet with a fresh plan this freshdisaster. 

He stood listening with all his ears. There were footsteps on thestairs, and the door opened. Dieusy stood on the threshold. 

"Who is it?" said Guerchard. 

"I accept--I accept everything, " cried Lupin in a frantic tone. 

"It's a tradesman; am I to detain him?" said Dieusy. "You told me tolet you know who came and take instructions. "

"A tradesman? Then I refuse!" cried Lupin, in an ecstasy of relief. 

"No, you needn't keep him, " said Guerchard, to Dieusy. 

Dieusy went out and shut the door. 

"You refuse?" said Guerchard. 

"I refuse, " said Lupin. 

"I'm going to gaol that girl, " said Guerchard savagely; and he took astep towards the door. 

"Not for long, " said Lupin quietly. "You have no proof. "

"She'll furnish the proof all right herself--plenty of proofs, " saidGuerchard brutally. "What chance has a silly child like that got, whenwe really start questioning her? A delicate creature like that willcrumple up before the end of the third day's cross-examination. "

"You swine!" said Lupin. "You know well enough that I can do it--on myhead--with a feeble child like that; and you know your Code; five yearsis the minimum, " said Guerchard, in a tone of relentless brutality, watching him carefully, sticking to his hope. 

"By Jove, I could wring your neck!" said Lupin, trembling with fury. Bya violent effort he controlled himself, and said thoughtfully, "Afterall, if I give up everything to you, I shall be free to take it backone of these days. "

"Oh, no doubt, when you come out of prison, " said Guerchard ironically;and he laughed a grim, jeering laugh. 

"I've got to go to prison first, " said Lupin quietly. 

"Pardon me--if you accept, I mean to arrest you, " said Guerchard. 

"Manifestly you'll arrest me if you can, " said Lupin. 

"Do you accept?" said Guerchard. And again his voice quivered withanxiety. 

"Well, " said Lupin. And he paused as if finally weighing the matter. 

"Well?" said Guerchard, and his voice shook. 

"Well--no!" said Lupin; and he laughed a mocking laugh. 

"You won't?" said Guerchard between his teeth. 

"No; you wish to catch me. This is just a ruse, " said Lupin, in quiet, measured tones. "At bottom you don't care a hang about Sonia, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. You will not arrest her. And then, if you didyou have no proofs. There ARE no proofs. As for the pendant, you'd haveto prove it. You can't prove it. You can't prove that it was in herpossession one moment. Where is the pendant?" He paused, and then wenton in the same quiet tone: "No, Guerchard; after having kept out ofyour clutches for the last ten years, I'm not going to be caught tosave this child, who is not even in danger. She has a very usefulfriend in the Duke of Charmerace. I refuse. "

Guerchard stared at him, scowling, biting his lips, seeking a freshpoint of attack. For the moment he knew himself baffled, but he stillclung tenaciously to the struggle in which victory would be so precious. 

The front-door bell rang again. 

"There's a lot of ringing at your bell this morning, " said Guerchard, under his breath; and hope sprang afresh in him. 

Again they stood silent, waiting. 

Dieusy opened the door, put in his head, and said, "It's MademoiselleKritchnoff. "

"Collar her! . . . Here's the warrant! . . . Collar her!" shoutedGuerchard, with savage, triumphant joy. 

"Never! You shan't touch her! By Heaven, you shan't touch her!" criedLupin frantically; and he sprang like a tiger at Guerchard. 

Guerchard jumped to the other side of the table. "Will you accept, then?" he cried. 

Lupin gripped the edge of the table with both hands, and stood panting, grinding his teeth, pale with fury. He stood silent and motionless forperhaps half a minute, gazing at Guerchard with burning, murderouseyes. Then he nodded his head. 

"Let Mademoiselle Kritchnoff wait, " said Guerchard, with a sigh of deeprelief. Dieusy went out of the room. 

"Now let us settle exactly how we stand, " said Lupin, in a clear, incisive voice. "The bargain is this: If I give you the pictures, thetapestry, the cabinets, the coronet, and the death-certificate of theDuke of Charmerace, you give me your word of honour that MademoiselleKritchnoff shall not be touched. "

"That's it!" said Guerchard eagerly. 

"Once I deliver these things to you, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff passes outof the game. "

"Yes, " said Guerchard. 

"Whatever happens afterwards. If I get back anything--if I escape--shegoes scot-free, " said Lupin. 

"Yes, " said Guerchard; and his eyes were shining. 

"On your word of honour?" said Lupin. 

"On my word of honour, " said Guerchard. 

"Very well, " said Lupin, in a quiet, businesslike voice. "To beginwith, here in this pocket-book you'll find all the documents relatingto the death of the Duke of Charmerace. In it you will also find thereceipt of the Plantin furniture repository at Batignolles for theobjects of art which I collected at Gournay-Martin's. I sent them toBatignolles because, in my letters asking the owners of valuables toforward them to me, I always make Batignolles the place to which theyare to be sent; therefore I knew that you would never look there. Theyare all in cases; for, while you were making those valuable inquiriesyesterday, my men were putting them into cases. You'll not find thereceipt in the name of either the Duke of Charmerace or my own. It isin the name of a respected proprietor of Batignolles, a M. PierreServien. But he has lately left that charming suburb, and I do notthink he will return to it. "

Guerchard almost snatched the pocket-book out of his hand. He verifiedthe documents in it with greedy eyes; and then he put them back in it, and stuffed it into the breast-pocket of his coat. 

"And where's the coronet?" he said, in an excited voice. 

"You're nearly standing on it, " said Lupin. 

"It's in that kit-bag at your feet, on the top of the change of clothesin it. "

Guerchard snatched up the kit-bag, opened it, and took out the coronet. 

"I'm afraid I haven't the case, " said Lupin, in a tone of regret. "Ifyou remember, I left it at Gournay-Martin's--in your charge. "

Guerchard examined the coronet carefully. He looked at the stones init; he weighed it in his right hand, and he weighed it in his left. 

"Are you sure it's the real one?" said Lupin, in a tone of acute butaffected anxiety. "Do not--oh, do not let us have any more of thesepainful mistakes about it. They are so wearing. "

"Yes--yes--this is the real one, " said Guerchard, with another deepsigh of relief. 

"Well, have you done bleeding me?" said Lupin contemptuously. 

"Your arms, " said Guerchard quickly. 

"They weren't in the bond, " said Lupin. "But here you are. " And hethrew his revolver on the table. 

Guerchard picked it up and put it into his pocket. He looked at Lupinas if he could not believe his eyes, gloating over him. Then he said ina deep, triumphant tone:

"And now for the handcuffs!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE END OF THE DUEL

"The handcuffs?" said Lupin; and his face fell. Then it cleared; and headded lightly, "After all, there's nothing like being careful; and, byJove, with me you need to be. I might get away yet. What luck it is foryou that I'm so soft, so little of a Charmerace, so human! Truly, Ican't be much of a man of the world, to be in love like this!"

"Come, come, hold out your hands!" said Guerchard, jingling thehandcuffs impatiently. 

"I should like to see that child for the last time, " said Lupin gently. 

"All right, " said Guerchard. 

"Arsene Lupin--and nabbed by you! If you aren't in luck! Here you are!"said Lupin bitterly; and he held out his wrists. 

Guerchard snapped the handcuffs on them with a grunt of satisfaction. 

Lupin gazed down at them with a bitter face, and said: "Oh, you are inluck! You're not married by any chance?"

"Yes, yes; I am, " said Guerchard hastily; and he went quickly to thedoor and opened it: "Dieusy!" he called. "Dieusy! MademoiselleKritchnoff is at liberty. Tell her so, and bring her in here. "

Lupin started back, flushed and scowling; he cried: "With these thingson my hands! . . . No! . . . I can't see her!"

Guerchard stood still, looking at him. Lupin's scowl slowly softened, and he said, half to himself, "But I should have liked to see her . . . Very much . . . For if she goes like that . . . I shall not know when orwhere--" He stopped short, raised his eyes, and said in a decided tone:"Ah, well, yes; I should like to see her. "

"If you've quite made up your mind, " said Guerchard impatiently, and hewent into the anteroom. 

Lupin stood very still, frowning thoughtfully. He heard footsteps onthe stairs, and then the voice of Guerchard in the anteroom, saying, ina jeering tone, "You're free, mademoiselle; and you can thank the Dukefor it. You owe your liberty to him. "

"Free! And I owe it to him?" cried the voice of Sonia, ringing andgolden with extravagant joy. 

"Yes, mademoiselle, " said Guerchard. "You owe it to him. "

She came through the open door, flushed deliciously and smiling, hereyes brimming with tears of joy. Lupin had never seen her look half soadorable. 

"Is it to you I owe it? Then I shall owe everything to you. Oh, thankyou--thank you!" she cried, holding out her hands to him. 

Lupin half turned away from her to hide his handcuffs. 

She misunderstood the movement. Her face fell suddenly like that of achild rebuked: "Oh, I was wrong. I was wrong to come here!" she criedquickly, in changed, dolorous tones. "I thought yesterday . . . I made amistake . . . Pardon me. I'm going. I'm going. "

Lupin was looking at her over his shoulder, standing sideways to hidethe handcuffs. He said sadly. "Sonia--"

"No, no, I understand! It was impossible!" she cried quickly, cuttinghim short. "And yet if you only knew--if you knew how I havechanged--with what a changed spirit I came here. . . . Ah, I swear thatnow I hate all my past. I loathe it. I swear that now the mere presenceof a thief would overwhelm me with disgust. "

"Hush!" said Lupin, flushing deeply, and wincing. "Hush!"

"But, after all, you're right, " she said, in a gentler voice. "Onecan't wipe out what one has done. If I were to give back everythingI've taken--if I were to spend years in remorse and repentance, itwould be no use. In your eyes I should always be Sonia Kritchnoff, thethief!" The great tears welled slowly out of her eyes and rolled downher cheeks; she let them stream unheeded. 

"Sonia!" cried Lupin, protesting. 

But she would not hear him. She broke out with fresh vehemence, afeverish passion: "And yet, if I'd been a thief, like so many others. . . But you know why I stole. I'm not trying to defend myself, but, afterall, I did it to keep honest; and when I loved you it was not the heartof a thief that thrilled, it was the heart of a poor girl wholoved. . . That's all. . . Who loved. "

"You don't know what you're doing! You're torturing me! Be quiet!"cried Lupin hoarsely, beside himself. 

"Never mind. . . I'm going. . . We shall never see one another any more, " shesobbed. "But will you. . . Will you shake hands just for the last time?"

"No!" cried Lupin. 

"You won't?" wailed Sonia in a heartrending tone. 

"I can't!" cried Lupin. 

"You ought not to be like this. . . . Last night . . . If you were going tolet me go like this . . . Last night . . . It was wrong, " she wailed, andturned to go. 

"Wait, Sonia! Wait!" cried Lupin hoarsely. "A moment ago you saidsomething. . . . You said that the mere presence of a thief wouldoverwhelm you with disgust. Is that true?"

"Yes, I swear it is, " cried Sonia. 

Guerchard appeared in the doorway. 

"And if I were not the man you believe?" said Lupin sombrely. 

"What?" said Sonia; and a faint bewilderment mingled with her grief. "If I were not the Duke of Charmerace?"

"Not the Duke?"

"If I were not an honest man?" said Lupin. 

"You?" cried Sonia. 

"If I were a thief? If I were--"

"Arsene Lupin, " jeered Guerchard from the door. 

Lupin turned and held out his manacled wrists for her to see. 

"Arsene Lupin! . . . It's . . . It's true!" stammered Sonia. "But then, butthen . . . It must be for my sake that you've given yourself up. And it'sfor me you're going to prison. Oh, Heavens! How happy I am!"

She sprang to him, threw her arms round his neck, and pressed her lipsto his. 

"And that's what women call repenting, " said Guerchard. 

He shrugged his shoulders, went out on to the landing, and called tothe policeman in the hall to bid the driver of the prison-van, whichwas waiting, bring it up to the door. 

"Oh, this is incredible!" cried Lupin, in a trembling voice; and hekissed Sonia's lips and eyes and hair. "To think that you love meenough to go on loving me in spite of this--in spite of the fact thatI'm Arsene Lupin. Oh, after this, I'll become an honest man! It's theleast I can do. I'll retire. "

"You will?" cried Sonia. 

"Upon my soul, I will!" cried Lupin; and he kissed her again and again. 

Guerchard came back into the room. He looked at them with a cynicalgrin, and said, "Time's up. "

"Oh, Guerchard, after so many others, I owe you the best minute of mylife!" cried Lupin. 

Bonavent, still in his porter's livery, came hurrying through theanteroom: "Master, " he cried, "I've found it. "

"Found what?" said Guerchard. 

"The secret entrance. It opens into that little side street. We haven'tgot the door open yet; but we soon shall. "

"The last link in the chain, " said Guerchard, with warm satisfaction. "Come along, Lupin. "

"But he's going to take you away! We're going to be separated!" criedSonia, in a sudden anguish of realization. 

"It's all the same to me now!" cried Lupin, in the voice of a conqueror. 

"Yes, but not to me!" cried Sonia, wringing her hands. 

"Now you must keep calm and go. I'm not going to prison, " said Lupin, in a low voice. "Wait in the hall, if you can. Stop and talk toVictoire; condole with her. If they turn you out of the house, waitclose to the front door. "

"Come, mademoiselle, " said Guerchard. "You must go. "

"Go, Sonia, go--good-bye--good-bye, " said Lupin; and he kissed her. 

She went quietly out of the room, her handkerchief to her eyes. Guerchard held open the door for her, and kept it open, with his handstill on the handle; he said to Lupin: "Come along. "

Lupin yawned, stretched himself, and said coolly, "My dear Guerchard, what I want after the last two nights is rest--rest. " He walked quicklyacross the room and stretched himself comfortably at full length on thecouch. 

"Come, get up, " said Guerchard roughly. "The prison-van is waiting foryou. That ought to fetch you out of your dream. "

"Really, you do say the most unlucky things, " said Lupin gaily. 

He had resumed his flippant, light-hearted air; his voice rang aslightly and pleasantly as if he had not a care in the world. 

"Do you mean that you refuse to come?" cried Guerchard in a rough, threatening tone. 

"Oh, no, " said Lupin quickly: and he rose. 

"Then come along!" said Guerchard. 

"No, " said Lupin, "after all, it's too early. " Once more he stretchedhimself out on the couch, and added languidly, "I'm lunching at theEnglish Embassy. "

"Now, you be careful!" cried Guerchard angrily. "Our parts are changed. If you're snatching at a last straw, it's waste of time. All yourtricks--I know them. Understand, you rogue, I know them. "

"You know them?" said Lupin with a smile, rising. "It's fatality!"

He stood before Guerchard, twisting his hands and wrists curiously. Half a dozen swift movements; and he held out his handcuffs in one handand threw them on the floor. 

"Did you know that trick, Guerchard? One of these days I shall teachyou to invite me to lunch, " he said slowly, in a mocking tone; and hegazed at the detective with menacing, dangerous eyes. 

"Come, come, we've had enough of this!" cried Guerchard, in mingledastonishment, anger, and alarm. "Bonavent! Boursin! Dieusy! Here! Help!Help!" he shouted. 

"Now listen, Guerchard, and understand that I'm not humbugging, " saidLupin quickly, in clear, compelling tones. "If Sonia, just now, had hadone word, one gesture of contempt for me, I'd have given way--yielded. . . Half-yielded, at any rate; for, rather than fall into yourtriumphant clutches, I'd have blown my brains out. I've now to choosebetween happiness, life with Sonia, or prison. Well, I've chosen. Iwill live happy with her, or else, my dear Guerchard, I'll die withyou. Now let your men come--I'm ready for them. "

Guerchard ran to the door and shouted again. 

"I think the fat's in the fire now, " said Lupin, laughing. 

He sprang to the table, opened the cardboard box, whipped off the toplayer of cotton-wool, and took out a shining bomb. 

He sprang to the wall, pressed the button, the bookshelf glided slowlyto one side, the lift rose to the level of the floor and its doors flewopen just as the detectives rushed in. 

"Collar him!" yelled Guerchard. 

"Stand back--hands up!" cried Lupin, in a terrible voice, raising hisright hand high above his head. "You know what this is . . . A bomb. . . . Come and collar me now, you swine! . . . Hands up, you . . . Guerchard!"

"You silly funks!" roared Guerchard. "Do you think he'd dare?"

"Come and see!" cried Lupin. 

"I will!" cried Guerchard. And he took a step forward. 

As one man his detectives threw themselves upon him. Three of themgripped his arms, a fourth gripped him round the waist; and they allshouted at him together, not to be a madman! . . . To look at Lupin'seyes! . . . That Lupin was off his head!

"What miserable swine you are!" cried Lupin scornfully. He sprangforward, caught up the kit-bag in his left hand, and tossed it behindhim into the lift. "You dirty crew!" he cried again. "Oh, why isn'tthere a photographer here? And now, Guerchard, you thief, give me backmy pocket-book. "

"Never!" screamed Guerchard, struggling with his men, purple with fury. 

"Oh, Lord, master! Do be careful! Don't rile him!" cried Bonavent in anagony. 

"What? Do you want me to smash up the whole lot?" roared Lupin, in afurious, terrible voice. "Do I look as if I were bluffing, you fools?"

"Let him have his way, master!" cried Dieusy. 

"Yes, yes!" cried Bonavent. 

"Let him have his way!" cried another. 

"Give him his pocket-book!" cried a third. 

"Never!" howled Guerchard. 

"It's in his pocket--his breast-pocket! Be smart!" roared Lupin. 

"Come, come, it's got to be given to him, " cried Bonavent. "Hold themaster tight!" And he thrust his hand into the breast of Guerchard'scoat, and tore out the pocket-book. 

"Throw it on the table!" cried Lupin. 

Bonavent threw it on to the table; and it slid along it right to Lupin. He caught it in his left hand, and slipped it into his pocket. "Good!"he said. And then he yelled ferociously, "Look out for the bomb!" andmade a feint of throwing it. 

The whole group fell back with an odd, unanimous, sighing groan. 

Lupin sprang into the lift, and the doors closed over the opening. There was a great sigh of relief from the frightened detectives, andthen the chunking of machinery as the lift sank. 

Their grip on Guerchard loosened. He shook himself free, and shouted, "After him! You've got to make up for this! Down into the cellars, someof you! Others go to the secret entrance! Others to the servants'entrance! Get into the street! Be smart! Dieusy, take the lift with me!"

The others ran out of the room and down the stairs, but with no greatheartiness, since their minds were still quite full of the bomb, andLupin still had it with him. Guerchard and Dieusy dashed at the doorsof the opening of the lift-well, pulling and wrenching at them. Suddenly there was a click; and they heard the grunting of themachinery. There was a little bump and a jerk, the doors flew open ofthemselves; and there was the lift, empty, ready for them. They jumpedinto it; Guerchard's quick eye caught the button, and he pressed it. The doors banged to, and, to his horror, the lift shot upwards abouteight feet, and stuck between the floors. 

As the lift stuck, a second compartment, exactly like the one Guerchardand Dieusy were in, came up to the level of the floor of thesmoking-room; the doors opened, and there was Lupin. But again howchanged! The clothes of the Duke of Charmerace littered the floor; thekit-bag was open; and he was wearing the very clothes ofChief-Inspector Guerchard, his seedy top-hat, his cloak. He wore alsoGuerchard's sparse, lank, black hair, his little, bristling, blackmoustache. His figure, hidden by the cloak, seemed to have shrunk tothe size of Guerchard's. 

He sat before a mirror in the wall of the lift, a make-up box on theseat beside him. He darkened his eyebrows, and put a line or two abouthis eyes. That done he looked at himself earnestly for two or threeminutes; and, as he looked, a truly marvellous transformation tookplace: the features of Arsene Lupin, of the Duke of Charmerace, decomposed, actually decomposed, into the features of Jean Guerchard. He looked at himself and laughed, the gentle, husky laugh of Guerchard. 

He rose, transferred the pocket-book to the coat he was wearing, pickedup the bomb, came out into the smoking-room, and listened. A muffledroaring thumping came from the well of the lift. It almost sounded asif, in their exasperation, Guerchard and Dieusy were engaged in astruggle to the death. Smiling pleasantly, he stole to the window andlooked out. His eyes brightened at the sight of the motor-car, Guerchard's car, waiting just before the front door and in charge of apoliceman. He stole to the head of the stairs, and looked down into thehall. Victoire was sitting huddled together on a chair; Sonia stoodbeside her, talking to her in a low voice; and, keeping guard onVictoire, stood a brown-faced, active, nervous policeman, allalertness, briskness, keenness. 

"Hi! officer! come up here! Be smart, " cried Lupin over the bannisters, in the husky, gentle voice of Chief-Inspector Guerchard. 

The policeman looked up, recognized the great detective, and camebounding zealously up the stairs. 

Lupin led the way through the anteroom into the sitting-room. Then hesaid sharply: "You have your revolver?"

"Yes, " said the young policeman. And he drew it with a flourish. 

"Put it away! Put it away at once!" said Lupin very smartly. "You'renot to use it. You're not to use it on any account! You understand?"

"Yes, " said the policeman firmly; and with a slightly bewildered air heput the revolver away. 

"Here! Stand here!" cried Lupin, raising his voice. And he caught thepoliceman's arm, and hustled him roughly to the front of the doors ofthe lift-well. "Do you see these doors? Do you see them?" he snapped. 

"Yes, yes, " said the policeman, glaring at them. 

"They're the doors of a lift, " said Lupin. "In that lift are Dieusy andLupin. You know Dieusy?"

"Yes, yes, " said the policeman. 

"There are only Dieusy and Lupin in the lift. They are strugglingtogether. You can hear them, " shouted Lupin in the policeman's ear. "Lupin is disguised. You understand--Dieusy and a disguised man are inthe lift. The disguised man is Lupin. Directly the lift descends andthe doors open, throw yourself on him! Hold him! Shout for assistance!"He almost bellowed the last words into the policeman's ear. 

"Yes, yes, " said the policeman. And he braced himself before the doorsof the lift-well, gazing at them with harried eyes, as if he expectedthem to bite him. 

"Be brave! Be ready to die in the discharge of your duty!" bellowedLupin; and he walked out of the room, shut the door, and turned the key. 

The policeman stood listening to the noise of the struggle in the lift, himself strung up to fighting point; he was panting. Lupin'sinstructions were whirling and dancing in his head. 

Lupin went quietly down the stairs. Victoire and Sonia saw him coming. Victoire rose; and as he came to the bottom of the stairs Sonia steppedforward and said in an anxious, pleading voice:

"Oh, M. Guerchard, where is he?"

"He's here, " said Lupin, in his natural voice. 

Sonia sprang to him with outstretched arms. 

"It's you! It IS you!" she cried. 

"Just look how like him I am!" said Lupin, laughing triumphantly. "Butdo I look quite ruffian enough?"

"Oh, NO! You couldn't!" cried Sonia. 

"Isn't he a wonder?" said Victoire. 

"This time the Duke of Charmerace is dead, for good and all, " saidLupin. 

"No; it's Lupin that's dead, " said Sonia softly. 

"Lupin?" he said, surprised. 

"Yes, " said Sonia firmly. 

"It would be a terrible loss, you know--a loss for France, " said Lupingravely. 

"Never mind, " said Sonia. 

"Oh, I must be in love with you!" said Lupin, in a wondering tone; andhe put his arm round her and kissed her violently. 

"And you won't steal any more?" said Sonia, holding him back with bothhands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. 

"I shouldn't dream of such a thing, " said Lupin. "You are here. Guerchard is in the lift. What more could I possibly desire?" His voicesoftened and grew infinitely caressing as he went on: "Yet when you areat my side I shall always have the soul of a lover and the soul of athief. I long to steal your kisses, your thoughts, the whole of yourheart. Ah, Sonia, if you want me to steal nothing else, you have onlyto stay by my side. "

Their lips met in a long kiss. 

Sonia drew herself out of his arms and cried, "But we're wasting time!We must make haste! We must fly!"

"Fly?" said Lupin sharply. "No, thank you; never again. I did flyingenough last night to last me a lifetime. For the rest of my life I'mgoing to crawl--crawl like a snail. But come along, you two, I musttake you to the police-station. "

He opened the front door, and they came out on the steps. The policemanin charge of the car saluted. 

Lupin paused and said softly: "Hark! I hear the sound of wedding bells. "

They went down the steps. 

Even as they were getting into the car some chance blow of Guerchard orDieusy struck a hidden spring and released the lift. It sank to thelevel of Lupin's smoking-room and stopped. The doors flew open, Dieusyand Guerchard sprang out of it; and on the instant the brown-faced, nervous policeman sprang actively on Guerchard and pinned him. Taken bysurprise, Guerchard yelled loudly, "You stupid idiot!" somehowentangled his legs in those of his captor, and they rolled on thefloor. Dieusy surveyed them for a moment with blank astonishment. Then, with swift intelligence, grasped the fact that the policeman was Lupinin disguise. He sprang upon them, tore them asunder, fell heavily onthe policeman, and pinned him to the floor with a strangling hand onhis throat. 

Guerchard dashed to the door, tried it, and found it locked, dashed forthe window, threw it open, and thrust out his head. Forty yards downthe street a motor-car was rolling smoothly away--rolling to ahoneymoon. 

"Oh, hang it!" he screamed. "He's doing a bunk in my motor-car!"