LITMIR.BIZ

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distress.

      "It was your duty to give it me," said Guerchard sternly; and he began to mount the steps.

      "Shall I come with you? I know where the handkerchief is," said the Duke quickly.

      "No, thank you, your Grace," said Guerchard. "I prefer to go alone."

      "You'd better let me help you," said the Duke.

      "No, your Grace," said Guerchard firmly.

      "I must really insist," said the Duke.

      "No—no—no," said Guerchard vehemently, with stern decision. "It's no use your insisting, your Grace; I prefer to go alone. I shall only be gone a minute or two."

      "Just as you like," said the Duke stiffly.

      The legs of Guerchard disappeared up the steps. The Duke stood listening with all his ears. Directly he heard the sound of Guerchard's heels on the floor, when he dropped from the chimney- piece of the next room, he went swiftly to the door, opened it, and went out. Bonavent was sitting on the chair on which the young policeman had sat during the afternoon. Sonia, in her hat and cloak, was half-way down the stairs.

      The Duke put his head inside the drawing-room door, and said to the empty room: "Here is Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, M. Guerchard." He held open the door, Sonia came down the stairs, and went through it. The Duke followed her into the drawing-room, and shut the door.

      "There's not a moment to lose," he said in a low voice.

      "Oh, what is it, your Grace?" said Sonia anxiously.

      "Guerchard has a warrant for your arrest."

      "Then I'm lost!" cried Sonia, in a panic-stricken voice.

      "No, you're not. You must go—at once," said the Duke.

      "But how can I go? No one can get out of the house. M. Guerchard won't let them," cried Sonia, panic-stricken.

      "We can get over that," said the Duke.

      He ran to Guerchard's cloak, took the card-case from the inner pocket, went to the writing-table, and sat down. He took from his waist-coat pocket the permit which Guerchard had given him, and a pencil. Then he took a card from the card-case, set the permit on the table before him, and began to imitate Guerchard's handwriting with an amazing exactness. He wrote on the card:

      "Pass Mademoiselle Kritchnoff." "J. GUERCHARD."

      Sonia stood by his side, panting quickly with fear, and watched him do it. He had scarcely finished the last stroke, when they heard a noise on the other side of the opening into the empty house. The Duke looked at the fireplace, and his teeth bared in an expression of cold ferocity. He rose with clenched fists, and took a step towards the fireplace.

      "Your Grace? Your Grace?" called the voice of Guerchard.

      "What is it?" answered the Duke quietly.

      "I can't see any handkerchief," said Guerchard. "Didn't you say it was in the left-hand corner of the little room on the right?"

      "I told you you'd better let me come with you, and find it," said the Duke, in a tone of triumph. "It's in the right-hand corner of the little room on the left."

      "I could have sworn you said the little room on the right," said Guerchard.

      They heard his footfalls die away.

      "Now, you must get out of the house quickly." said the Duke. "Show this card to the detectives at the door, and they'll pass you without a word."

      He pressed the card into her hand.

      "But—but—this card?" stammered Sonia.

      "There's no time to lose," said the Duke.

      "But this is madness," said Sonia. "When Guerchard finds out about this card—that you—you—"

      "There's no need to bother about that," interrupted the Duke quickly. "Where are you going to?"

      "A little hotel near the Star. I've forgotten the name of it," said Sonia. "But this card—"

      "Has it a telephone?" said the Duke.

      "Yes—No. 555, Central," said Sonia.

      "If I haven't telephoned to you before half-past eight to-morrow morning, come straight to my house," said the Duke, scribbling the telephone number on his shirt-cuff.

      "Yes, yes," said Sonia. "But this card… . When Guerchard knows … when he discovers… . Oh, I can't let you get into trouble for me."

      "I shan't. But go—go," said the Duke, and he slipped his right arm round her and drew her to the door.

      "Oh, how good you are to me," said Sonia softly.

      The Duke's other arm went round her; he drew her to him, and their lips met.

      He loosed her, and opened the door, saying loudly: "You're sure you won't have a cab, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff?"

      "No; no, thank you, your Grace. Goodnight," said Sonia. And she went through the door with a transfigured face.

      Chapter 18 THE DUKE STAYS

      The Duke shut the door and leant against it, listening anxiously, breathing quickly. There came the bang of the front door. With a deep sigh of relief he left the door, came briskly, smiling, across the room, and put the card-case back into the pocket of Guerchard's cloak. He lighted a cigarette, dropped into an easy chair, and sat waiting with an entirely careless air for the detective's return. Presently he heard quick footsteps on the bare boards of the empty room beyond the opening. Then Guerchard came down the steps and out of the fireplace.

      His face wore an expression of extreme perplexity:

      "I can't understand it," he said." I found nothing."

      "Nothing?" said the Duke.

      "No. Are you sure you saw the handkerchief in one of those little rooms on the second floor—quite sure?" said Guerchard.

      "Of course I did," said the Duke. "Isn't it there?"

      "No," said Guerchard.

      "You can't have looked properly," said the Duke, with a touch of irony in his voice. "If I were you, I should go back and look again."

      "No. If I've looked for a thing, I've looked for it. There's no need for me to look a second time. But, all the same, it's rather funny. Doesn't it strike you as being rather funny, your Grace?" said Guerchard, with a worried air.

      "It strikes me as being uncommonly funny," said the Duke, with an ambiguous smile.

      Guerchard looked at him with a sudden uneasiness; then he rang the bell.

      Bonavent came into the room.

      "Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, Bonavent. It's quite time," said Guerchard.

      "Mademoiselle Kritchnoff?" said Bonavent, with an air of surprise.

      "Yes, it's time that she was taken to the police-station."

      "Mademoiselle Kritchnoff has gone, sir," said Bonavent, in a tone of quiet remonstrance.

      "Gone? What do you mean by gone?" said Guerchard.

      "Gone, sir, gone!" said Bonavent patiently.

      "But you're mad… . Mad!" cried Guerchard.

      "No, I'm not mad," said Bonavent. "Gone! But who let her go?" cried Guerchard.

      "The men at the door," said Bonavent.

      "The men at the door," said Guerchard, in a tone of stupefaction. "But she had to have my permit … my permit on my card! Send the fools up to me!"

      Bonavent went to the top of the staircase, and called down it. Guerchard followed him. Two detectives came hurrying up the stairs and into the drawing-room.

      "What the devil do you mean by letting Mademoiselle Kritchnoff leave

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