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?
...