a chair beside the telephone, and mopped the beads of anguish
from his brow. They looked at him, and they looked at one another,
cudgelling their brains for yet another way of communicating with the
Paris police.

"Hang it all!" said the Duke. "There must be some way out of the
difficulty."

"What way?" said the millionaire.

The Duke did not answer. He put his hands in his pockets and walked
impatiently up and down the hall. Germaine sat down on a chair. Sonia
put her hands on the back of a couch, and leaned forward, watching him.
Firmin stood by the door, whither he had retired to be out of the reach
of his excited master, with a look of perplexity on his stolid face.
They all watched the Duke with the air of people waiting for an oracle
to deliver its message. The millionaire kept mopping the beads of
anguish from his brow. The more he thought of his impending loss, the
more freely he perspired. Germaine's maid, Irma, came to the door
leading into the outer hall, which Firmin, according to his usual
custom, had left open, and peered in wonder at the silent group.

"I have it!" cried the Duke at last. "There is a way out."

"What is it?" said the millionaire, rising and coming to the middle of
the hall.

"What time is it?" said the Duke, pulling out his watch.

The millionaire pulled out his watch. Germaine pulled out hers. Firmin,
after a struggle, produced from some pocket difficult of access an
object not unlike a silver turnip. There was a brisk dispute between
Germaine and the millionaire about which of their watches was right.
Firmin, whose watch apparently did not agree with the watch of either
of them, made his deep voice heard above theirs. The Duke came to the
conclusion that it must be a few minutes past seven.

"It's seven or a few minutes past," he said sharply. "Well, I'm going
to take a car and hurry off to Paris. I ought to get there, bar
accidents, between two and three in the morning, just in time to inform
the police and catch the burglars in the very midst of their burglary.
I'll just get a few things together."

So saying, he rushed out of the hall.

"Excellent! excellent!" said the millionaire. "Your young man is a man
of resource, Germaine. It seems almost a pity that he's a duke. He'd do
wonders in the building trade. But I'm going to Paris too, and you're
coming with me. I couldn't wait idly here, to save my life. And I can't
leave you here, either. This scoundrel may be going to