Arsene Lupin. Морис Леблан

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 stir for a minute or two, puzzling it out, seeking light.

      Then he came back slowly into the drawing-room and looked uneasily at the Duke. The Duke was sitting in his easy chair, smoking a cigarette with a listless air. Guerchard looked at him, and looked at him, almost as if he now saw him for the first time.

      "Well?" said the Duke, "have you sent that poor child off to prison? If I'd done a thing like that I don't think I should sleep very well, M. Guerchard."

      "That poor child has just escaped, by means of a forged permit," said Guerchard very glumly.

      "By Jove, I AM glad to hear that!" cried the Duke. "You'll forgive my lack of sympathy, M. Guerchard; but she was such a child."

      "Not too young to be Lupin's accomplice," said Guerchard drily.

      "You really think she is?" said the Duke, in a tone of doubt.

      "I'm sure of it," said Guerchard, with decision; then he added slowly, with a perplexed air:

      "But how—how—could she get that forged permit?"

      The Duke shook his head, and looked as solemn as an owl. Guerchard looked at him uneasily, went out of the drawing-room, and shut the door.

      "How long has Mademoiselle Kritchnoff been gone?" he said to Bonavent.

      "Not much more than five minutes," said Bonavent. "She came out from talking to you in the drawing-room—"

      "Talking to me in the drawing-room!" exclaimed Guerchard.

      "Yes," said Bonavent. "She came out and went straight down the stairs and out of the house."

      A faint, sighing gasp came from Guerchard's lips. He dashed into the drawing-room, crossed the room quickly to his cloak, picked it up, took the card-case out of the pocket, and counted the cards in it. Then he looked at the Duke.

      The Duke smiled at him, a charming smile, almost caressing.

      There seemed to be a lump in Guerchard's throat; he swallowed it loudly.

      He put the card-case into the breast-pocket of the coat he was wearing. Then he cried sharply, "Bonavent! Bonavent!"

      Bonavent opened the door, and stood in the doorway.

      "You sent off Victoire in the prison-van, I suppose," said Guerchard.

      "Oh, a long while ago, sir," said Bonavent.

      "The van had been waiting at the door since half-past nine."

      "Since half-past nine? … But I told them I shouldn't want it till a quarter to eleven. I suppose they were making an effort to be in time for once. Well, it doesn't matter," said Guerchard.

      "Then I suppose I'd better send the other prison-van away?" said Bonavent.

      "What other van?" said Guerchard.

      "The van which has just arrived," said Bonavent.

      "What! What on earth are you talking about?" cried Guerchard, with a sudden anxiety in his voice and on his face.

      "Didn't you order two prison-vans?" said Bonavent.

      Guerchard jumped; and his face went purple with fury and dismay. "You don't mean to tell me that two prison-vans have been here?" he cried.

      "Yes, sir," said Bonavent.

      "Damnation!" cried Guerchard. "In which of them did you put Victoire? In which of them?"

      "Why, in the first, sir," said Bonavent.

      "Did you see the police in charge of it? The coachman?"

      "Yes, sir," said Bonavent.

      "Did you recognize them?" said Guerchard.

      "No," said Bonavent; "they must have been new men. They told me they came from the Sante."

      "You silly fool!" said Guerchard through his teeth. "A fine lot of sense you've got."

      "Why, what's the matter?" said Bonavent.

      "We're done, done in the eye!" roared Guerchard. "It's a stroke—a stroke—"

      "Of Lupin's!" interposed the Duke softly.

      "But I don't understand," said Bonavent.

      "You don't understand, you idiot!" cried Guerchard. "You've sent Victoire away in a sham prison-van—a prison-van belonging to Lupin. Oh, that scoundrel! He always has something up his sleeve."

      "He certainly shows foresight," said the Duke. "It was very clever of him to foresee the arrest of Victoire and provide against it."

      "Yes, but where is the leakage? Where is the leakage?" cried Guerchard, fuming. "How did he learn that the doctor said that she would recover her wits at ten o'clock? Here I've had a guard at the door all day; I've imprisoned the household; all the provisions have been received directly by a man of mine; and here he is, ready to pick up Victoire the very moment she gives herself away! Where is the leakage?"

      He turned on Bonavent, and went on: "It's no use your standing there with your mouth open, looking like a fool. Go upstairs to the servants' quarters and search Victoire's room again. That fool of an inspector may have missed something, just as he missed Victoire herself. Get on! Be smart!"

      Bonavent went off briskly. Guerchard paced up and down the room, scowling.

      "Really, I'm beginning to agree with you, M. Guerchard, that this Lupin is a remarkable man," said the Duke. "That prison-van is extraordinarily neat."

      "I'll prison-van him!" cried Guerchard. "But what fools I have to work with. If I could get hold of people of ordinary intelligence it would be impossible to play such a trick as that,"

      "I don't know about that," said the Duke thoughtfully. "I think it would have required an uncommon fool to discover that trick."

      "What on earth do you mean? Why?" said Guerchard.

      "Because it's so wonderfully simple," said the Duke. "And at the same time it's such infernal cheek."

      "There's something in that," said Guerchard grumpily. "But then, I'm always saying to my men, 'Suspect everything; suspect everybody; suspect, suspect, suspect.' I tell you, your Grace, that there is only one motto for the successful detective, and that is that one word, 'suspect.'"

      "It can't be a very comfortable business, then," said the Duke. "But I suppose it has its charms."

      "Oh, one gets used to the disagreeable part," said Guerchard.

      The telephone bell rang; and he rose and went to it. He put the receiver to his ear and said, "Yes; it's I—Chief-Inspector Guerchard."

      He turned and said to the Duke, "It's the gardener at Charmerace, your Grace."

      "Is it?" said the Duke indifferently.

      Guerchard turned to the telephone. "Are you there?" he said. "Can you hear me clearly? … I want to know who was in your hot-house yesterday … who could have gathered some of your pink salvias?"

      "I told you that it was I," said the Duke.

      "Yes, yes, I know," said Guerchard. And he turned again to the telephone. "Yes, yesterday," he said. "Nobody else? … No one but the Duke of Charmerace? … Are you sure?… quite sure?… absolutely sure? .. Yes, that's all I wanted to know … thank you."

      He turned to the Duke and said, "Did you hear that, your Grace? The gardener says that you were the only person in his hot-houses yesterday, the only person who could have plucked any pink salvias."

      "Does he?" said the Duke carelessly.

      Guerchard