Germaine and Sonia came into the room. The Duke stepped forward to greet them.
“Do stop crying, papa. You’re as hoarse as a crow as it is,” said Germaine impatiently. Then, turning on the Duke with a frown, she said: “I think that joke of yours about the train was simply disgraceful, Jacques. A joke’s a joke, but to send us out to the station on a night like last night, through all that heavy rain, when you knew all the time that there was no quarter-to-nine train—it was simply disgraceful.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the Duke quietly. “Wasn’t there a quarter-to-nine train?”
“Of course there wasn’t,” said Germaine. “The time-table was years old. I think it was the most senseless attempt at a joke I ever heard of.”
“It doesn’t seem to me to be a joke at all,” said the Duke quietly. “At any rate, it isn’t the kind of a joke I make—it would be detestable. I never thought to look at the date of the time-table. I keep a box of cigarettes in that drawer, and I have noticed the time-table there. Of course, it may have been lying there for years. It was stupid of me not to look at the date.”
“I said it was a mistake. I was sure that his Grace would not do anything so unkind as that,” said Sonia.
The Duke smiled at her.
“Well, all I can say is, it was very stupid of you not to look at the date,” said Germaine.
M. Gournay-Martin rose to his feet and wailed, in the most heartrending fashion: “My pictures! My wonderful pictures! Such investments! And my cabinets! My Renaissance cabinets! They can’t be replaced! They were unique! They were worth a hundred and fifty thousand francs.”
M. Formery stepped forward with an air and said, “I am distressed, M. Gournay-Martin—truly distressed by your loss. I am M. Formery, examining magistrate.”