“Ah, you don’t know this man, your Grace ... his extraordinary mixture of coolness and audacity. It’s the danger that attracts him. He throws himself into the fire, and he doesn’t get burnt. For the last ten years I’ve been saying to myself, ‘Here we are: this time I’ve got him! ... At last I’m going to nab him.’ But I’ve said that day after day,” said Guerchard; and he paused. “Well?” said the Duke. “Well, the days pass; and I never nab him. Oh, he is thick, I tell you.... He’s a joker, he is ... a regular artist”—he ground his teeth—“The damned thief!” The Duke looked at him, and said slowly, “Then you think that to-night Lupin—” “You’ve followed the scent with me, your Grace,” Guerchard interrupted quickly and vehemently. “We’ve picked up each clue together. You’ve almost seen this man at work.... You’ve understood him. Isn’t a man like this, I ask you, capable of anything?” “He is,” said the Duke, with conviction. “Well, then,” said Guerchard. “Perhaps you’re right,” said the Duke. Guerchard turned to Dieusy and said, in a quieter voice, “And when the scavenger had picked up the cigarette, did he follow the motorist?” “Yes, he followed him for about a hundred yards. He went down into Sureau Street, and turned westwards. Then a motor-car came along; he got into it, and went off.” “What kind of a motor-car?” said Guerchard. “A big car, and dark red in colour,” said Dieusy. “The Limousine!” cried the Duke. “That’s all I’ve got so far, sir,” said Dieusy. “Well, off you go,” said Guerchard. “Now that you’ve got started, you’ll probably get something else before very long.” Dieusy saluted and went. “Things are beginning to move,” said Guerchard cheerfully. “First Victoire, and now this motor-van.” “They are indeed,” said the Duke. “After all, it ought not to be very difficult to trace that motor-van,” said Guerchard, in a musing tone. “At any rate, its movements ought to be easy enough to follow up till about six. Then, of course, there would be a good many others about, delivering goods.” “You seem to have all the possible information you can want at your finger-ends,” said the Duke, in an admiring tone. “I suppose I know the life of Paris as well as anybody,” said Guerchard. They were silent for a while. Then Germaine’s maid, Irma, came into the room and said: “If you please, your Grace, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff would like to speak to you for a moment.” “Oh? Where is she?” said the Duke. “She’s in her room, your Grace.” “Oh, very well, I’ll go up to her,” said the Duke. “I can speak to her in the library.” He rose and was going towards the door when Guerchard stepped forward, barring his way, and said, “No, your Grace.” “No? Why?” said the Duke haughtily. “I beg you will wait a minute or two till I’ve had a word with you,” said Guerchard; and he drew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and held it up.