Then he came back slowly into the drawing-room and looked uneasily at the Duke. The Duke was sitting in his easy chair, smoking a cigarette with a listless air. Guerchard looked at him, and looked at him, almost as if he now saw him for the first time. “Well?” said the Duke, “have you sent that poor child off to prison? If I’d done a thing like that I don’t think I should sleep very well, M. Guerchard.” “That poor child has just escaped, by means of a forged permit,” said Guerchard very glumly. “By Jove, I AM glad to hear that!” cried the Duke. “You’ll forgive my lack of sympathy, M. Guerchard; but she was such a child.” “Not too young to be Lupin’s accomplice,” said Guerchard drily. “You really think she is?” said the Duke, in a tone of doubt. “I’m sure of it,” said Guerchard, with decision; then he added slowly, with a perplexed air: “But how—how—could she get that forged permit?” The Duke shook his head, and looked as solemn as an owl. Guerchard looked at him uneasily, went out of the drawing-room, and shut the door. “How long has Mademoiselle Kritchnoff been gone?” he said to Bonavent. “Not much more than five minutes,” said Bonavent. “She came out from talking to you in the drawing-room—” “Talking to me in the drawing-room!” exclaimed Guerchard. “Yes,” said Bonavent. “She came out and went straight down the stairs and out of the house.” A faint, sighing gasp came from Guerchard’s lips. He dashed into the drawing-room, crossed the room quickly to his cloak, picked it up, took the card-case out of the pocket, and counted the cards in it. Then he looked at the Duke. The Duke smiled at him, a charming smile, almost caressing. There seemed to be a lump in Guerchard’s throat; he swallowed it loudly. He put the card-case into the breast-pocket of the coat he was wearing. Then he cried sharply, “Bonavent! Bonavent!” Bonavent opened the door, and stood in the doorway. “You sent off Victoire in the prison-van, I suppose,” said Guerchard. “Oh, a long while ago, sir,” said Bonavent. “The van had been waiting at the door since half-past nine.” “Since half-past nine? ... But I told them I shouldn’t want it till a quarter to eleven. I suppose they were making an effort to be in time for once. Well, it doesn’t matter,” said Guerchard. “Then I suppose I’d better send the other prison-van away?” said Bonavent. “What other van?” said Guerchard. “The van which has just arrived,” said Bonavent. “What! What on earth are you talking about?” cried Guerchard, with a sudden anxiety in his voice and on his face. “Didn’t you order two prison-vans?” said Bonavent. Guerchard jumped; and his face went purple with fury and dismay. “You don’t mean to tell me that two prison-vans have been here?” he cried. “Yes, sir,” said Bonavent. “Damnation!” cried Guerchard. “In which of them did you put Victoire? In which of them?” “Why, in the first, sir,” said Bonavent. “Did you see the police in charge of it? The coachman?”