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 to be easy enough to follow up till about six. Then, of course, there would be a good many others about, delivering goods.”
“You seem to have all the possible information you can want at your finger-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 the room and said:
“If you please, your Grace, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff would like to speak to 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 her in 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 and held it up.
The Duke looked at Guerchard’s face, and he looked at the paper in his hand; then he said: “Oh, very well.” And, turning to Irma, he added quietly, “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—the next 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,” said Guerchard.
“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 Mademoiselle Kritchnoff?”
“Yes,” said Guerchard.
“Oh, come, it’s impossible,” said the Duke. “You’re never going to arrest that child?”
“I am, indeed,” said Guerchard. “Her examination this afternoon was in the 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. The prison 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 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.
