The Duchess was quieter when he had argued for a while, and patted her shoulder, and called her "darling child." She dried her tears, and promised to "be good"--but when Jack had gone to keep his appointment at Sanders' office, her heart was lead. "He's Pavoya's man now!" she said to herself. Having Lyda's permission to speak, and knowing Sanders to be trustworthy, Manners kept nothing back. He began with a brief outline of the history of the pearls, and Pat's business transaction with Mayen. This brought him to the arrival of the messenger with the packet, and its delivery in his own presence. There, for the first time, Sanders stopped him and asked questions: what had been Defasquelle's manner, what the Duke's? And Jack believed that his answers impressed the detective favourably toward the Frenchman. It proved the messenger's bona fides that he had insisted upon the opening of the box in his presence. Besides, after the theft, it appeared certain that the new seals had been made with the Duke's ring; and before that could have happened, Manners had seen Defasquelle leave the house. Sanders would, of course, wish to meet Defasquelle, but would prefer to talk with the Duchess first of all. Whether Mademoiselle Pavoya's version of her visit to the Phayre house and her acquaintance with the Duke were true, remained to be seen. Sanders had never heard of Markoff, but would take immediate steps through the aid of his "best boys" to find out all about the man--_if_ he existed! As for the Duke, the detective didn't mind admitting to Jack as a friend--not in an official capacity--that he didn't yet believe there had been foul play. He wasn't sure that, in Claremanagh's place (assuming his injured innocence) _he_ wouldn't have gone away to punish his wife. "These spoiled heiresses are the limit when they get going!" he said. "And this Duke chap's Irish. I'm Irish myself. We fellows can't sit still when even the prettiest woman forgets the Marquis of Queensberry's rules in a scrap! It gets our goat!" Jack was not sure whether Juliet would prefer an outside opinion that Pat had been kidnapped, or had left her of his own free will. But the girl's pale beauty bowled Sanders over at first sight. His prejudice against the "spoiled heiress" melted like ice in morning sunlight, and his Irish heart--as well as his trained discretion--kept back any word which he thought might wound her. The assumption (meant to be comforting) that with Markoff lay the clue to the mystery, was, however, salt on an unhealed scar for Juliet. She took it instantly for granted that Sanders agreed with Jack in believing Lyda Pavoya had told the truth. "They're going the wrong way to work!" she thought, bitterly, when the two men had gone, promising a report the moment there should be news of any sort. "The wrong way! ... If they find out where Pat is, it will be just blundering--by accident!"