“She less than any one,” said Guerchard quickly. “I don’t understand what you’re driving at a bit,” said M. Formery. “Unless you suppose that Mademoiselle Kritchnoff is Lupin in disguise.” Guerchard laughed softly: “You will have your joke, M. Formery,” he said. “Well, well, I’ll give the order,” said M. Formery, somewhat mollified by the tribute to his humour. He called the inspector to him and whispered a word in his ear. Then he rose and said: “I think, gentlemen, we ought to go and examine the bedrooms, and, above all, make sure that the safe in M. Gournay-Martin’s bedroom has not been tampered with.” “I was wondering how much longer we were going to waste time here talking about that stupid pendant,” grumbled the millionaire; and he rose and led the way. “There may also be some jewel-cases in the bedrooms,” said M. Formery. “There are all the wedding presents. They were in charge of Victoire.” said Germaine quickly. “It would be dreadful if they had been stolen. Some of them are from the first families in France.” “They would replace them ... those paper-knives,” said the Duke, smiling. Germaine and her father led the way. M. Formery, Guerchard, and the inspector followed them. At the door the Duke paused, stopped, closed it on them softly. He came back to the window, put his hand in his pocket, and drew out the packet wrapped in tissue-paper. He unfolded the paper with slow, reluctant fingers, and revealed the pendant. CHAPTER XIII LUPIN WIRES The Duke stared at the pendant, his eyes full of wonder and pity. “Poor little girl!” he said softly under his breath. He put the pendant carefully away in his waistcoat-pocket and stood staring thoughtfully out of the window. The door opened softly, and Sonia came quickly into the room, closed the door, and leaned back against it. Her face was a dead white; her skin had lost its lustre of fine porcelain, and she stared at him with eyes dim with anguish. In a hoarse, broken voice, she muttered: “Forgive me! Oh, forgive me!” “A thief—you?” said the Duke, in a tone of pitying wonder. Sonia groaned. “You mustn’t stop here,” said the Duke in an uneasy tone, and he looked uneasily at the door. “Ah, you don’t want to speak to me any more,” said Sonia, in a heartrending tone, wringing her hands. “Guerchard is suspicious of everything. It is dangerous for us to be talking here. I assure you that it’s dangerous,” said the Duke. “What an opinion must you have of me! It’s dreadful—cruel!” wailed Sonia. “For goodness’ sake don’t speak so loud,” said the Duke, with even greater uneasiness. “You MUST think of Guerchard.” “What do I care?” cried Sonia. “I’ve lost the liking of the only creature whose liking I wanted. What does anything else matter? What DOES it matter?” “We’ll talk somewhere else presently. That’ll be far safer,” said the Duke.