took a step or two up and down the room, still thinking hard.
“Well, you understand the position, don’t you, your Grace?” said Guerchard, in a tone of apology. “Believe me that, personally, I’ve no animosity against Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. In fact, the child attracts me.”
“Yes,” said the Duke softly, in a musing tone. “She has the air of a child who has lost its way…lost its way in life.… And that poor little 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, utter surprise.
“The child’s clumsiness is positively pitiful,” said the Duke.
“What was in the handkerchief?… The pearls of the pendant?” cried Guerchard.
“Yes: I supposed you knew all about it. Of course M. Formery left word for you,” said the Duke, with an air of surprise at the ignorance of the detective.
“No: I’ve heard nothing about it,” cried Guerchard.
“He didn’t leave word for you?” said the Duke, in a tone of greater surprise. “Oh, well, I dare say that he thought tomorrow would do. Of course you were out of the house when he found it. She must have slipped out of her room soon after you went.”
“He found a handkerchief belonging to Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. Where is it?” cried Guerchard.
“M. Formery took the pearls, but he left the handkerchief. I suppose it’s in the corner where he found it,” said the Duke.
“He left the handkerchief?” cried Guerchard. “If that isn’t just like the 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 second floor. But if you’re going to arrest Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, why are you 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 very strong presumption of her guilt. But I hadn’t the slightest proof of it,” 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 the pearls 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’s me!… It’s my senselessness!… It’s my fault that you’ve got your proof!” He spoke in a tone of acute distress.
“It was your duty to give it me,” said Guerchard sternly; and he began to mount the steps.
“Shall I come with you? I know where the handkerchief is,” said the Duke 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 no use your insisting, your Grace; I prefer to go alone. I shall only be gone a minute or two.”
“Just as you like,” said the Duke stiffly.
The legs of Guerchard disappeared up the steps. The Duke stood listening with all his ears. Directly he heard the sound of Guerchard’s heels on the floor, when he dropped from the chimney-piece of the next room, he went swiftly to the door, opened it, and went out. Bonavent was sitting on the chair on which the young policeman had sat during the afternoon. Sonia, in her hat and cloak, was half-way down the stairs.
The Duke put his head inside the drawing-room door, and said to the empty room: “Here is Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, M. Guerchard.” He held open the door, Sonia came down the stairs, and went through it. The Duke 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’t let 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-coat pocket the permit which Guerchard had given him, and a pencil. Then he took 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 do it. He had scarcely finished the last stroke, when they heard a noise on the other side of the opening into the empty house. The Duke looked at the fireplace, and his teeth bared in an expression of cold ferocity. He rose with clenched fists, and took a step towards the fireplace.
“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 was in 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 the Duke, in a tone of triumph. “It’s in the right-hand corner of the little room on the left.”
“I could have sworn you said the little room on the right,” said Guerchard.
They heard his footfalls die away.
“Now, you must get out of the house quickly,” said the Duke. “Show this card to the detectives at the door, and they’ll pass you without a word.”
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 this card—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,” said Sonia. “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 tomorrow morning, come straight to my house,” said the Duke, scribbling the telephone 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