The Duke looked at Guerchard’s face, and he looked at the paper in his hand; then he said: “Oh, very well.” And, turning to Irma, he added quietly, “Tell Mademoiselle Kritchnoff that I’m in the drawing-room.” “Yes, your Grace, in the drawing-room,” said Irma; and she turned to go. “Yes; and say that I shall be engaged for the next five minutes—the next five minutes, do you understand?” said the Duke. “Yes, your Grace,” said Irma; and she went out of the door. “Ask Mademoiselle Kritchnoff to put on her hat and cloak,” said Guerchard. “Yes, sir,” said Irma; and she went. The Duke turned sharply on Guerchard, and said: “Now, why on earth? ... I don’t understand.” “I got this from M. Formery,” said Guerchard, holding up the paper. “Well,” said the Duke. “What is it?” “It’s a warrant, your Grace,” said Guerchard. “What! ... A warrant! ... Not for the arrest of Mademoiselle Kritchnoff?” “Yes,” said Guerchard. “Oh, come, it’s impossible,” said the Duke. “You’re never going to arrest that child?” “I am, indeed,” said Guerchard. “Her examination this afternoon was in the highest degree unsatisfactory. Her answers were embarrassed, contradictory, and in every way suspicious.” “And you’ve made up your mind to arrest her?” said the Duke slowly, knitting his brow in anxious thought. “I have, indeed,” said Guerchard. “And I’m going to do it now. The prison van ought to be waiting at the door.” He looked at his watch. “She and Victoire can go together.” “So ... you’re going to arrest her ... you’re going to arrest her?” said the Duke thoughtfully: and he took a step or two up and down the room, still thinking hard. “Well, you understand the position, don’t you, your Grace?” said Guerchard, in a tone of apology. “Believe me that, personally, I’ve no animosity against Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. In fact, the child attracts me.” “Yes,” said the Duke softly, in a musing tone. “She has the air of a child who has lost its way ... lost its way in life.... And that poor little hiding-place she found ... that rolled-up handkerchief ... thrown down in the corner of the little room in the house next door ... it was absolutely absurd.” “What! A handkerchief!” cried Guerchard, with an air of sudden, utter surprise. “The child’s clumsiness is positively pitiful,” said the Duke. “What was in the handkerchief? ... The pearls of the pendant?” cried Guerchard. “Yes: I supposed you knew all about it. Of course M. Formery left word for you,” said the Duke, with an air of surprise at the ignorance of the detective. “No: I’ve heard nothing about it,” cried Guerchard. “He didn’t leave word for you?” said the Duke, in a tone of greater surprise. “Oh, well, I dare say that he thought to-morrow would do. Of course you were out of the house when he found it. She must have slipped out of her room soon after you went.” “He found a handkerchief belonging to Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. Where is it?” cried Guerchard.