“My father is going to the Ritz to sleep,” said Germaine, “and I’m going with him. He doesn’t like the idea of my sleeping in this house to-night. I suppose he’s afraid that Lupin will make an attack in force with all his gang. Still, if he did, I think that Guerchard could give a good account of himself—he’s got men enough in the house, at any rate. Irma tells me it’s swarming with them. It would never do for me to be in the house if there were a fight.” “Oh, come, you don’t really believe that Lupin is coming to-night?” said the Duke, with a sceptical laugh. “The whole thing is sheer bluff—he has no more intention of coming to-night to steal that coronet than—than I have.” “Oh, well, there’s no harm in being on the safe side,” said Germaine. “Everybody’s agreed that he’s a very terrible person. I’ll just run up to my room and get a wrap; Irma has my things all packed. She can come round to-morrow morning to the Ritz and dress me.” She ran up the stairs, and the Duke went into the drawing-room. He found Guerchard standing where he had left him, still frowning, still thinking hard. “The family are off to the Ritz. It’s rather a reflection on your powers of protecting them, isn’t it?” said the Duke. “Oh, well, I expect they’d be happier out of the house,” said Guerchard. He looked at the Duke again with inquiring, searching eyes. “What’s the matter?” said the Duke. “IS my tie crooked?” “Oh, no, no; it’s quite straight, your Grace,” said Guerchard, but he did not take his eyes from the Duke’s face. The door opened, and in came M. Gournay-Martin, holding a bag in his hand. “It seems to be settled that I’m never to sleep in my own house again,” he said in a grumbling tone. “There’s no reason to go,” said the Duke. “Why ARE you going?” “Danger,” said M. Gournay-Martin. “You read Lupin’s telegram: ‘I shall come to-night between a quarter to twelve and midnight to take the coronet.’ He knows that it was in my bedroom. Do you think I’m going to sleep in that room with the chance of that scoundrel turning up and cutting my throat?” “Oh, you can have a dozen policemen in the room if you like,” said the Duke. “Can’t he, M. Guerchard?” “Certainly,” said Guerchard. “I can answer for it that you will be in no danger, M. Gournay-Martin.” “Thank you,” said the millionaire. “But all the same, outside is good enough for me.” Germaine came into the room, cloaked and ready to start. “For once in a way you are ready first, papa,” she said. “Are you coming, Jacques?” “No; I think I’ll stay here, on the chance that Lupin is not bluffing,” said the Duke. “I don’t think, myself, that I’m going to be gladdened by the sight of him—in fact, I’m ready to bet against it. But you’re all so certain about it that I really must stay on the chance. And, after all, there’s no doubt that he’s a man of immense audacity and ready to take any risk.”