growled M. Charolais. "I must have those keys."

"That plain thing with the brass handles in the middle on the
left--that's a bureau," said Bernard softly.

"Why didn't you say so?" growled M. Charolais.

He dashed to it, and tried it. It was locked.

"Locked, of course! Just my luck! Come and get it open, Pierre. Be
smart!"

The son he had described as an engineer came quickly to the bureau,
fitting together as he came the two halves of a small jemmy. He fitted
it into the top of the flap. There was a crunch, and the old lock gave.
He opened the flap, and he and M. Charolais pulled open drawer after
drawer.

"Quick! Here's that fat old fool!" said Jean, in a hoarse, hissing
whisper.

He moved down the hall, blowing out one of the lamps as he passed it.
In the seventh drawer lay a bunch of keys. M. Charolais snatched it up,
glanced at it, took a bunch of keys from his own pocket, put it in the
drawer, closed it, closed the flap, and rushed to the window. Jean and
his sons were already out on the terrace.

M. Charolais was still a yard from the window when the door into the
outer hall opened and in came M. Gournay-Martin.

He caught a glimpse of a back vanishing through the window, and
bellowed: "Hi! A man! A burglar! Firmin! Firmin!"

He ran blundering down the hall, tangled his feet in the fragments of
the broken chair, and came sprawling a thundering cropper, which
knocked every breath of wind out of his capacious body. He lay flat on
his face for a couple of minutes, his broad back wriggling
convulsively--a pathetic sight!--in the painful effort to get his
breath back. Then he sat up, and with perfect frankness burst into
tears. He sobbed and blubbered, like a small child that has hurt
itself, for three or four minutes. Then, having recovered his
magnificent voice, he bellowed furiously: "Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace!
Charmerace!"

Then he rose painfully to his feet, and stood staring at the open
windows.

Presently he roared again: "Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!"

He kept looking at the window with terrified eyes, as though he
expected somebody to step in and cut his throat from ear to ear.

"Firmin! Firmin! Charmerace! Charmerace!" he bellowed again.

The Duke came quietly into the hall, dressed in a heavy motor-coat, his
motor-cap on his head, and carrying a kit-bag in his hand.

"Did I hear you call?" he said.

"Call?" said the millionaire. "I shouted. The burglars are here
already