e said in an uncertain, shaky voice. "I
haven't any chalk--I--ran out of chalk the day before yesterday."

"I think you have, Madame Victoire. Feel in your pocket and see," said
Guerchard sternly. His voice had lost its suavity; his face its smile:
his eyes had grown dangerous.

"No, no; I have no chalk," cried Victoire.

With a sudden leap Guerchard sprang upon her, caught her in a firm grip
with his right arm, and his left hand plunged into her pocket.

"Let me go! Let me go! You're hurting," she cried.

Guerchard loosed her and stepped back.

"What's this?" he said; and he held up between his thumb and forefinger
a piece of blue chalk.

Victoire drew herself up and faced him gallantly: "Well, what of
it?--it is chalk. Mayn't an honest woman carry chalk in her pockets
without being insulted and pulled about by every policeman she comes
across?" she cried.

"That will be for the examining magistrate to decide," said Guerchard;
and he went to the door and called Bonavent. Bonavent came in, and
Guerchard said: "When the prison van comes, put this woman in it; and
send her down to the station."

"But what have I done?" cried Victoire. "I'm innocent! I declare I'm
innocent. I've done nothing at all. It's not a crime to carry a piece
of chalk in one's pocket."

"Now, that's a matter for the examining magistrate. You can explain it
to him," said Guerchard. "I've got nothing to do with it: so it's no
good making a fuss now. Do go quietly, there's a good woman."

He spoke in a quiet, business-like tone. Victoire looked him in the
eyes, then drew herself up, and went quietly out of the room.

CHAPTER XVII

SONIA'S ESCAPE

"One of M. Formery's innocents," said Guerchard, turning to the Duke.

"The chalk?" said the Duke. "Is it the same chalk?"

"It's blue," said Guerchard, holding it out. "The same as that of the
signatures on the walls. Add that fact to the woman's sudden
realization of what she was doing, and you'll see that they were
written with it."

"It is rather a surprise," said the Duke. "To look at her you would
think that she was the most honest woman in the world."

"Ah, you don't know Lupin, your Grace," said Guerchard. "He can do
anything with women; and they'll do anything for him. And, what's more,
as far as I can see, it doesn't make a scrap of difference whether
they're honest or not. The fair-haired lady I was telling you about was
probably an honest woman; Ganimard is sure of it