“Well, you understand the position, don’t you, your Grace?” said Guerchard, in a tone of apology. “Believe me that, personally, I’ve no animosity against Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. In fact, the child attracts me.”
“Yes,” said the Duke softly, in a musing tone. “She has the air of a child who has lost its way ... lost its way in life.... And that poor little hiding-place she found ... that rolled-up handkerchief ... thrown down in the corner of the little room in the house next door ... it was absolutely absurd.”
“What! A handkerchief!” cried Guerchard, with an air of sudden, utter surprise.
“The child’s clumsiness is positively pitiful,” said the Duke.
“What was in the handkerchief? ... The pearls of the pendant?” cried Guerchard.
“Yes: I supposed you knew all about it. Of course M. Formery left word for you,” said the Duke, with an air of surprise at the ignorance of the detective.
“No: I’ve heard nothing about it,” cried Guerchard.
“He didn’t leave word for you?” said the Duke, in a tone of greater surprise. “Oh, well, I dare say that he thought to-morrow would do. Of course you were out of the house when he found it. She must have slipped out of her room soon after you went.”
“He found a handkerchief belonging to Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. Where is it?” cried Guerchard.
“M. Formery took the pearls, but he left the handkerchief. I suppose it’s in the corner where he found it,” said the Duke.