" said Guerchard. "If I'd
known about your break-down in your car last night, I should have
hesitated about asking you--"

"A break-down?" interrupted the Duke.

"Yes, you left Charmerace at eight o'clock last night. And you only
reached Paris at six this morning. You couldn't have had a very
high-power car?" said Guerchard.

"I had a 100 h.-p. car," said the Duke.

"Then you must have had a devil of a break-down," said Guerchard.

"Yes, it was pretty bad, but I've known worse," said the Duke
carelessly. "It lost me about three hours: oh, at least three hours.
I'm not a first-class repairer, though I know as much about an engine
as most motorists."

"And there was nobody there to help you repair it?" said Guerchard.

"No; M. Gournay-Martin could not let me have his chauffeur to drive me
to Paris, because he was keeping him to help guard the chateau. And of
course there was nobody on the road, because it was two o'clock in the
morning."

"Yes, there was no one," said Guerchard slowly.

"Not a soul," said the Duke.

"It was unfortunate," said Guerchard; and there was a note of
incredulity in his voice.

"My having to repair the car myself?" said the Duke.

"Yes, of course," said Guerchard, hesitating a little over the assent.

The Duke dropped the end of his cigarette into a tray, and took out his
case. He held it out towards Guerchard, and said, "A cigarette? or
perhaps you prefer your caporal?"

"Yes, I do, but all the same I'll have one," said Guerchard, coming
quickly across the room. And he took a cigarette from the case, and
looked at it.

"All the same, all this is very curious," he said in a new tone, a
challenging, menacing, accusing tone.

"What?" said the Duke, looking at him curiously.

"Everything: your cigarettes ... the salvias ... the photograph that
Bonavent found in Victoire's prayer-book ... that man in motoring dress
... and finally, your break-down," said Guerchard; and the accusation
and the threat rang clearer.

The Duke rose from his chair quickly and said haughtily, in icy tones:
"M. Guerchard, you've been drinking!"

He went to the chair on which he had set his overcoat and his hat, and
picked them up. Guerchard sprang in front of him, barring his way, and
cried in a shaky voice: "No; don't go! You mustn't go!"

"What do you mean?" said the Duke, and paused. "What DO you mean?"

Guerchard stepped back, and ran his hand over his forehead. He was very
pale, and his foreh