They were silent. The Duke walked to the fireplace, stepped into it, and studied the opening. He came out again and said: “Oh, by the way, M. Formery, the policeman at the front door wanted to stop me going out of the house when I went home to change. I take it that M. Guerchard’s prohibition does not apply to me?”
“Of course not—of course not, your Grace,” said M. Formery quickly.
“I saw that you had changed your clothes, your Grace,” said Guerchard. “I thought that you had done it here.”
“No,” said the Duke, “I went home. The policeman protested; but he went no further, so I did not throw him into the middle of the street.”
“Whatever our station, we should respect the law,” said M. Formery solemnly.
“The Republican Law, M. Formery? I am a Royalist,” said the Duke, smiling at him.
M. Formery shook his head sadly.
“I was wondering,” said the Duke, “about M. Guerchard’s theory that the burglars were let in the front door of this house by an accomplice. Why, when they had this beautiful large opening, did they want a front door, too?”
“I did not know that that was Guerchard’s theory?” said M. Formery, a trifle contemptuously. “Of course they had no need to use the front door.”
“Perhaps they had no need to use the front door,” said Guerchard; “but, after all, the front door was unbolted, and they did not draw the bolts to put us off the scent. Their false scent was already prepared”—he waved his hand towards the window—“moreover, you must bear in mind that that opening might not have been made when they entered the house. Suppose that, while they were on the other side of the wall, a brick had fallen on to the hearth, and alarmed the concierge. We don’t know how skilful they are; they might not have cared to risk it. I’m inclined to think, on the whole, that they did come in through the front door.”