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 I arrived too late to prevent the burglary. He would never forgive me if I had neglected his request: so I telephoned for him—to the Prefecture of Police,” said the Duke.
“Oh, well, if you’ve already telephoned for him. But it was unnecessary—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 a discontented tone with a discontented air.
He walked slowly round the room, paused by the windows, looked at the ladder, and scanned the garden:
“Arsène Lupin,” he said scornfully. “Arsène Lupin doesn’t leave traces all over the place. There’s nothing but traces. Are we going to have that silly Lupin joke all over again?”
“I think, sir, that this time joke is the word, for this is a burglary pure and simple,” said the inspector.
“Yes, it’s plain as daylight,” said M. Formery “The burglars came in by this 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 its door. He drew the curtains, and tried the handle of the door of the safe. 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 my fiancee does, that M. Gournay-Martin keeps the most precious thing in his 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. That rascal 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 of your men round for their dossier. When I get it I’ll question them. You found 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 of cardboard—his usual bag of tricks.”
“Then once again they’re going to touch us up in the papers. It’s any odds on it,” said M. Formery gloomily. “Where’s the housekeeper? I should 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. “At least, we haven’t found her, but we know her.”
“I don’t think that’s the case,” said the Duke. “At least, my future father-in-law and my fiancee had both of them the greatest confidence in her. Yesterday she telephoned to us at the Chateau de Charmerace. All the jewels were left in her charge, and the wedding presents as they 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 of course we can’t tell till M. Gournay-Martin arrives. As far as I can see, 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 searched thoroughly. This housekeeper must be somewhere about—if she’s really trustworthy. 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, no blood-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 had been slept in, but she does not appear to have taken away any of her clothes.”
“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 assistant in a business like this. A little visionary, a little fanciful—wrong-headed, in fact; but, after all, he is Guerchard. Only, since Lupin is his bugbear, he’s bound to find some means of muddling us up with that wretched animal. You’re going to see Lupin mixed up with all this to a dead certainty, your Grace.”
The Duke looked at the signatures on the wall. “It seems to me that he is 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 confident that some ordinary burglars have committed this crime and are trying to put us off the scent by diverting our attention to Lupin.”
The Duke stooped down carelessly and picked up a book which had fallen from a table.
“Excuse me, but please—please—do not touch anything,” said M. Formery quickly.
“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 one of the burglars. And look here; here’s a footprint under it—a footprint on the carpet,” said the Duke.
M.
