, 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
the house without my permit, written on my card?" cried Guerchard
violently.

"But she had your permit, sir, and it WAS written on your card,"
stammered one of the detectives.

"It was? ... it was?" said Guerchard. "Then, by Jove, it was a forgery!"

He stood thoughtful for a moment. Then quietly he told his two men to
go back to their post. He did not sti