m--and nobody has ever even
attempted to steal them."
"But what of the affair at Montpellier the other night?" enquired the
Comte de Lorgnes--"that terrible attack upon you of which Madame de
Sevenie has just told us? Surely you would call that an attempt to
steal."
"Simple highway robbery, if you like, monsieur le comte. But even had
it proved successful, I had very few jewels with me. All that mattered,
all that I would have minded losing, were here, in a safe place."
"Nevertheless," said Monk--"if you will permit me to offer a word of
advice--I think you are very unwise."
"It may be, monsieur."
"Nonsense!" Madame de Sevenie declared. "Who would dare attempt to
burglarise the Chateau de Montalais? Such a thing was never heard of."
"There is always the first time for everything, Madame," Monk suggested
gently. "I fancy it was your first experience of the sort, at
Montpellier."
"A rascally chauffeur from Paris, a few low characters of the
department. Since the war things are not as they were."
"That is the very reason why I suggest, madame--"
"But, monsieur, I assure you all my life I have lived at Montalais.
Monsieur le cure will tell you I know every face hereabouts. And I know
that these poor country-folk, these good-natured dolts of peasants have
not the imagination, much less the courage--"
"But what of criminals from outside, from the great cities, from London
and Paris and Berlin? They have the imagination, the courage, the
skill; and if they ever get wind of the fortune Madame de Montalais
keeps locked up here..."
"What of the Lone Wolf?" the Comtesse de Lorgnes added. "I have heard
that one is once more in France."
Duchemin blinked incredulously at the speaker. "But when did you hear
that, madame la comtesse?"
"Quite recently, monsieur."
"I had understood that the monsieur in question had long since
retired."
"Only for the duration of the war, monsieur, I am afraid."
"It is true, according to all reports," the Comte de Lorgnes said:
"Monsieur Lanyard--that was the name, was it not?"
"If memory serves, monsieur le comte," Duchemin agreed.
"Yes." The count screwed his chubby features into a laughable mask of
gravity. "Now one remembers quite well. He passed as a collector of
objets d'art, especially of fine paintings, in Paris, for years before
the War--this Monsieur Michael Lanyard. Then he disappeared. It was
rumoured that he was of good service to the Allies as a spy,
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