an Empire card-table, half inside the room, half out. On the hearth-rug, before a large tapestry fire-screen, which masked the wide fireplace, built in imitation of the big, wide fireplaces of our ancestors, and rose to the level of the chimney-piece—a magnificent chimney-piece in carved oak-were some chairs tied together ready to be removed.
The Duke and the inspector ran to the window, and looked down into the garden. It was empty. At the further end of it, on the other side of its wall, rose the scaffolding of a house a-building. The burglars had found every convenience to their hand—a strong ladder, an egress through the door in the garden wall, and then through the gap formed by the house in process of erection, which had rendered them independent of the narrow passage between the walls of the gardens, which debouched into a side-street on the right.
The Duke turned from the window, glanced at the wall opposite, then, as if something had caught his eye, went quickly to it.
"Look here," he said, and he pointed to the middle of one of the empty spaces 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 better get an examining magistrate to take the matter in hand first." And he ran to the telephone.
The Duke opened the folding doors which led into the second drawing-room. The shutters of the windows were open, and it was plain that Arsene Lupin had plundered it also of everything that had struck his fancy. In the gaps between the pictures on the walls was again the signature "Arsene Lupin."
The inspector was shouting impatiently into the telephone, bidding a servant wake her master instantly. He did not leave the telephone till he 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 chair and waited for him.
When he had finished telephoning, the inspector began to search the two rooms for traces of the burglars. He found nothing, not even a finger-mark.
When he had gone through the two rooms he said, "The next thing to do is to find the house-keeper. She may be sleeping still—she may not even have heard the noise of the burglars."
"I find all this extremely interesting," said the Duke; and he followed the inspector out of the room.
The inspector called up the two policemen, who had been freeing the concierge and going through the rooms on the ground-floor. They did not then examine any more of the rooms on the first floor to discover if they also had been plundered. They went straight up to the top of the house, the servants' quarters.
The inspector called, "Victoire! Victoire!" two or three times; but there was no answer.
They opened the door of room after room and looked in, the inspector taking the rooms on the right, the policemen the rooms on the left.
"Here we are," said one of the policemen. "This room's been recently occupied." They looked in, and saw that the bed was unmade. Plainly Victoire had slept in it.
"Where can she be?" said the Duke.
"Be?" said the inspector. "I expect she's with the burglars—an accomplice."
"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 the confidential 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 had established the fact that the burglars had confined their attention to the two drawing-rooms. They found no traces of them; and they did not find Victoire. The concierge could throw no light on her disappearance. He and his wife had been taken by surprise in their sleep and in the dark.
They had been gagged and bound, they declared, without so much as having set eyes on their assailants. The Duke and the inspector came back 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 with Guerchard."
"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 he doesn't have very good luck."
"M. Gournay-Martin particularly asked me to send for Guerchard if I arrived too late, and found the burglary already committed," said the Duke. "It seems that there is war to the knife between Guerchard and this Arsene Lupin. In that case Guerchard will leave no stone unturned to catch the rascal and recover the stolen treasures. M. Gournay-Martin felt that Guerchard was the man for this piece of work very strongly indeed."
"Very good, your Grace," said the inspector. And he rang up the Prefecture of Police.
The Duke heard him report the crime and ask that Guerchard should be sent. 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'd better speak to him myself."
He took his place at the telephone and said, "I am the Duke of Charmerace. M. Gournay-Martin begged me to secure the services of M. Guerchard. He laid the greatest stress on my securing them, if on reaching Paris I found that the crime had already been committed."
The official at the other end of the line hesitated. He did not refuse on the instant as he had refused the inspector. It may be that he reflected that M. Gournay-Martin was a millionaire and a man of influence; that the Duke of Charmerace was a Duke; that he, at any rate, had nothing whatever to gain by running counter to their wishes. He said that Chief-Inspector Guerchard was not at the Prefecture, that he was off duty; that he would send down two detectives, who were on duty, at once, and summon Chief-Inspector Guerchard with all speed. The Duke thanked him and rang off.
"That's all right," he said cheerfully, turning to the inspector. "What time will M. Formery be here?"
"Well, I don't expect him for another hour," said the inspector. "He won't come till he's had his breakfast. He always makes a good breakfast before setting out to start an inquiry, lest he shouldn't find time to make one after he's begun it."
"Breakfast—breakfast—that's a great idea," said the Duke. "Now you come to remind me, I'm absolutely famished. I got some supper on my way late last night; but I've had nothing since. I suppose nothing interesting will happen till M. Formery comes; and I may as well get some food. But I don't want to leave the house. I think I'll see what the concierge can do for me."
So saying, he went downstairs and interviewed the concierge. The concierge seemed to be still doubtful whether he was standing on his head 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 a restaurant.
The Duke went upstairs to the bathroom and refreshed himself with a cold bath. By the time he had bathed and dressed the concierge had a meal ready for him in the dining-room. He ate it with
