Germaine quickly. “It couldn’t have been Victoire. The last two thefts were committed at the chateau when Victoire was in Paris 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 to Germaine, he went on: “You say, Mademoiselle, that these thefts began about 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 your father, after receiving a threatening letter like the one he received last 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 entered your 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 the last theft of which you were the victim?”
“It was a pearl brooch—not unlike the pendant which his Grace gave me yesterday,” said Germaine.
“Would you mind showing me that pendant? I should like to see it,” said M. Formery.
“Certainly—show it to him, Jacques. You have it, haven’t you?” said Germaine, 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 a startled air.
“The empty case?” said the Duke, with growing surprise.
“Yes,” said Germaine. “It was after we came back from our useless journey to the station. I remembered suddenly that I had started without the pendant. I went to the bureau and picked up the case; and it was empty.”
“One moment—one moment,” said M. Formery. “Didn’t you catch this young Bernard 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 the pendant out of its case and you only recovered the empty case from him,” said M. Formery triumphantly.
“No,” said the Duke. “That is not so. Nor could the thief have been the burglar who broke open the bureau to get at the keys. For long after both of them were out of the house I took a cigarette from the box which stood on the bureau beside the case which held the pendant. And it occurred to me that the young rascal might have played that very trick on me. I opened the case and the pendant was there.”
“It has been stolen!” cried the millionaire; “of course it has been stolen.”
“Oh, no, no,” said the Duke. “It hasn’t been stolen. Irma, or perhaps Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, has brought it to Paris for Germaine.”
“Sonia certainly hasn’t brought it. It was she who suggested to me that you 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 and her father about the journey, whether it had been very uncomfortable, and if they were very tired by it. He learned that they had been so fortunate as to find sleeping compartments on the train, so that they had suffered as little as might be from their night of travel.
M. Formery looked through his notes; Guerchard seemed to be going to sleep 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 when confronted 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. I am conducting this inquiry,” he said. And then, turning to Irma, he added, “Now, don’t be frightened, Mademoiselle Irma; I want to ask you a question or two. Have you brought up to Paris the pendant which the Duke 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 Germaine leave 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. I thought that perhaps Mademoiselle Kritchnoff had put it in her bag.”
“Why should Mademoiselle Kritchnoff put it in her bag?” said the Duke quickly.
“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 bag because 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 have become charged with an oppression—a vague menace. Guerchard seemed to have become wide awake again. Germaine and the Duke looked at one another 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 you again 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 Duke quickly.
“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 Duke quickly, moving toward the door.
“Please, please, your Grace,” protested Guerchard. “The inspector will fetch her.”
The Duke turned sharply and looked at him: “I beg your pardon, but do you—” he said.
“Please don’t be annoyed, your Grace,” Guerchard