Arsene Lupin. Морис Леблан
said Guerchard. "I tell you that Lupin would allow for myself or Ganimard being put in charge of the case; and he would know that we should find the opening in the chimney. The furniture was taken straight out into the side-street on to which this house opens." He led the way out of the room on to the landing and went down the dark staircase into the hall. He opened the shutters of the hall windows, and let in the light. Then he examined the hall. The dust lay thick on the tiled floor. Down the middle of it was a lane formed by many feet. The footprints were faint, but still plain in the layer of dust. Guerchard came back to the stairs and began to examine them. Half-way up the flight he stooped, and picked up a little spray of flowers: "Fresh!" he said. "These have not been long plucked."
"Salvias," said the Duke.
"Salvias they are," said Guerchard. "Pink salvias; and there is only one gardener in France who has ever succeeded in getting this shade- -M. Gournay-Martin's gardener at Charmerace. I'm a gardener myself."
"Well, then, last night's burglars came from Charmerace. They must have," said the Duke.
"It looks like it," said Guerchard.
"The Charolais," said the Duke.
"It looks like it," said Guerchard.
"It must be," said the Duke. "This IS interesting—if only we could get an absolute proof."
"We shall get one presently," said Guerchard confidently.
"It is interesting," said the Duke in a tone of lively enthusiasm. "These clues—these tracks which cross one another—each fact by degrees falling into its proper place—extraordinarily interesting." He paused and took out his cigarette-case: "Will you have a cigarette?" he said.
"Are they caporal?" said Guerchard.
"No, Egyptians—Mercedes."
"Thank you," said Guerchard; and he took one.
The Duke struck a match, lighted Guerchard's cigarette, and then his own:
"Yes, it's very interesting," he said. "In the last quarter of an hour you've practically discovered that the burglars came from Charmerace—that they were the Charolais—that they came in by the front door of this house, and carried the furniture out of it."
"I don't know about their coming in by it," said Guerchard. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, they came in by the front door of M. Gournay-Martin's house."
"Of course," said the Duke. "I was forgetting. They brought the keys from Charmerace."
"Yes, but who drew the bolts for them?" said Guerchard. "The concierge bolted them before he went to bed. He told me so. He was telling the truth—I know when that kind of man is telling the truth."
"By Jove!" said the Duke softly. "You mean that they had an accomplice?"
"I think we shall find that they had an accomplice. But your Grace is beginning to draw inferences with uncommon quickness. I believe that you would make a first-class detective yourself—with practice, of course—with practice."
"Can I have missed my true career?" said the Duke, smiling. "It's certainly a very interesting game."
"Well, I'm not going to search this barracks myself," said Guerchard. "I'll send in a couple of men to do it; but I'll just take a look at the steps myself."
So saying, he opened the front door and went out and examined the steps carefully.
"We shall have to go back the way we came," he said, when he had finished his examination. "The drawing-room door is locked. We ought to find M. Formery hammering on it." And he smiled as if he found the thought pleasing.
They went back up the stairs, through the opening, into the drawing- room of M. Gournay-Martin's house. Sure enough, from the other side of the locked door came the excited voice of M. Formery, crying:
"Guerchard! Guerchard! What are you doing? Let me in! Why don't you let me in?"
Guerchard unlocked the door; and in bounced M. Formery, very excited, very red in the face.
"Hang it all, Guerchard! What on earth have you been doing?" he cried. "Why didn't you open the door when I knocked?"
"I didn't hear you," said Guerchard. "I wasn't in the room."
"Then where on earth have you been?" cried M. Formery.
Guerchard looked at him with a faint, ironical smile, and said in his gentle voice, "I was following the real track of the burglars."
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Chapter 15 THE EXAMINATION OF SONIA
M. Formery gasped: "The real track?" he muttered.
"Let me show you," said Guerchard. And he led him to the fireplace, and showed him the opening between the two houses.
"I must go into this myself!" cried M. Formery in wild excitement.
Without more ado he began to mount the steps. Guerchard followed him. The Duke saw their heels disappear up the steps. Then he came out of the drawing-room and inquired for M. Gournay-Martin. He was told that the millionaire was up in his bedroom; and he went upstairs, and knocked at the door of it.
M. Gournay-Martin bade him enter in a very faint voice, and the Duke found him lying on the bed. He was looking depressed, even exhausted, the shadow of the blusterous Gournay-Martin of the day before. The rich rosiness of his cheeks had faded to a moderate rose-pink.
"That telegram," moaned the millionaire. "It was the last straw. It has overwhelmed me. The coronet is lost."
"What, already?" said the Duke, in a tone of the liveliest surprise.
"No, no; it's still in the safe," said the millionaire. "But it's as good as lost—before midnight it will be lost. That fiend will get it."
"If it's in this safe now, it won't be lost before midnight," said the Duke. "But are you sure it's there now?"
"Look for yourself," said the millionaire, taking the key of the safe from his waistcoat pocket, and handing it to the Duke.
The Duke opened the safe. The morocco case which held the coronet lay on the middle shell in front of him. He glanced at the millionaire, and saw that he had closed his eyes in the exhaustion of despair. Whistling softly, the Duke opened the case, took out the diadem, and examined it carefully, admiring its admirable workmanship. He put it back in the case, turned to the millionaire, and said thoughtfully:
"I can never make up my mind, in the case of one of these old diadems, whether one ought not to take out the stones and have them re-cut. Look at this emerald now. It's a very fine stone, but this old-fashioned cutting does not really do it justice."
"Oh, no, no: you should never interfere with an antique, historic piece of jewellery. Any alteration decreases its value—its value as an historic relic," cried the millionaire, in a shocked tone.
"I know that," said the Duke, "but the question for me is, whether one ought not to sacrifice some of its value to increasing its beauty."
"You do have such mad ideas," said the millionaire, in a tone of peevish exasperation.
"Ah, well, it's a nice question," said the Duke.
He snapped the case briskly, put it back on the shelf, locked the safe, and handed the key to the millionaire. Then he strolled across the room and looked down into the street, whistling softly.
"I think—I think—I'll go home and get out of these motoring clothes. And I should like to have on a pair of boots that were a trifle less muddy," he said slowly.
M. Gournay-Martin sat up with a jerk and cried, "For Heaven's sake, don't you go and desert me, my dear chap! You don't know what my nerves are like!"
"Oh, you've got that sleuth-hound, Guerchard, and the splendid Formery, and four other detectives, and half a dozen ordinary policemen guarding you. You can do without my feeble arm. Besides,