“Oh, no, none whatever; of course she can go out,” said M. Formery. Sonia turned round to go. “One moment,” said Guerchard, coming forward. “You’ve only got that wrist-bag with you?” “Yes,” said Sonia. “I have my money and my handkerchief in it.” And she held it out to him. Guerchard’s keen eyes darted into it; and he muttered, “No point in looking in that. I don’t suppose any one would have had the audacity—” and he stopped. Sonia made a couple of steps toward the door, turned, hesitated, came back to the couch, and picked up her cloak. There was a sudden gleam in Guerchard’s eyes—a gleam of understanding, expectation, and triumph. He stepped forward, and holding out his hands, said: “Allow me.” “No, thank you,” said Sonia. “I’m not going to put it on.” “No ... but it’s possible ... some one may have ... have you felt in the pockets of it? That one, now? It seems as if that one—” He pointed to the pocket which had held the packet. Sonia started back with an air of utter dismay; her eyes glanced wildly round the room as if seeking an avenue of escape; her fingers closed convulsively on the pocket. “But this is abominable!” she cried. “You look as if—” “I beg you, mademoiselle,” interrupted Guerchard. “We are sometimes obliged—” “Really, Mademoiselle Sonia,” broke in the Duke, in a singularly clear and piercing tone, “I cannot see why you should object to this mere formality.” “Oh, but—but—” gasped Sonia, raising her terror-stricken eyes to his. The Duke seemed to hold them with his own; and he said in the same clear, piercing voice, “There isn’t the slightest reason for you to be frightened.” Sonia let go of the cloak, and Guerchard, his face all alight with triumph, plunged his hand into the pocket. He drew it out empty, and stared at it, while his face fell to an utter, amazed blankness. “Nothing? nothing?” he muttered under his breath. And he stared at his empty hand as if he could not believe his eyes. By a violent effort he forced an apologetic smile on his face, and said to Sonia: “A thousand apologies, mademoiselle.” He handed the cloak to her. Sonia took it and turned to go. She took a step towards the door, and tottered. The Duke sprang forward and caught her as she was falling. “Do you feel faint?” he said in an anxious voice. “Thank you, you just saved me in time,” muttered Sonia. “I’m really very sorry,” said Guerchard. “Thank you, it was nothing. I’m all right now,” said Sonia, releasing herself from the Duke’s supporting arm. She drew herself up, and walked quietly out of the room. Guerchard went back to M. Formery at the writing-table. “You made a clumsy mistake there, Guerchard,” said M. Formery, with a touch of gratified malice in his tone. Guerchard took no notice of it: “I want you to give orders that nobody leaves the house without my permission,” he said, in a low voice. “No one except Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, I suppose,” said M. Formery, smiling.