“P.S.—It occurs to me that the pictures have not glass before them. It would be as well to repair this omission before forwarding them to me, and I am sure that you will take this extra trouble cheerfully. I am aware, of course, that some of the best judges declare that a picture loses some of its quality when seen through glass. But it preserves them, and we should always be ready and willing to sacrifice a portion of our own pleasure for the benefit of posterity. France demands it of us.—A. L.” The Duke laughed, and said, “Really, this is extraordinarily funny. It must have made your father laugh.” “Laugh?” said Germaine. “You should have seen his face. He took it seriously enough, I can tell you.” “Not to the point of forwarding the things to Batignolles, I hope,” said the Duke. “No, but to the point of being driven wild,” said Germaine. “And since the police had always been baffled by Lupin, he had the brilliant idea of trying what soldiers could do. The Commandant at Rennes is a great friend of papa’s; and papa went to him, and told him about Lupin’s letter and what he feared. The colonel laughed at him; but he offered him a corporal and six soldiers to guard his collection, on the night of the seventh. It was arranged that they should come from Rennes by the last train so that the burglars should have no warning of their coming. Well, they came, seven picked men—men who had seen service in Tonquin. We gave them supper; and then the corporal posted them in the hall and the two drawing-rooms where the pictures and things were. At eleven we all went to bed, after promising the corporal that, in the event of any fight with the burglars, we would not stir from our rooms. I can tell you I felt awfully nervous. I couldn’t get to sleep for ages and ages. Then, when I did, I did not wake till morning. The night had passed absolutely quietly. Nothing out of the common had happened. There had not been the slightest noise. I awoke Sonia and my father. We dressed as quickly as we could, and rushed down to the drawing-room.” She paused dramatically. “Well?” said the Duke. “Well, it was done.” “What was done?” said the Duke. “Everything,” said Germaine. “Pictures had gone, tapestries had gone, cabinets had gone, and the clock had gone.” “And the coronet too?” said the Duke. “Oh, no. That was at the Bank of France. And it was doubtless to make up for not getting it that Lupin stole your portrait. At any rate he didn’t say that he was going to steal it in his letter.” “But, come! this is incredible. Had he hypnotized the corporal and the six soldiers? Or had he murdered them all?” said the Duke. “Corporal? There wasn’t any corporal, and there weren’t any soldiers. The corporal was Lupin, and the soldiers were part of his gang,” said Germaine. “I don’t understand,” said the Duke. “The colonel promised your father a corporal and six men. Didn’t they come?”