“Shall I come with you? I know where the handkerchief is,” said the Duke quickly.
“No, thank you, your Grace,” said Guerchard. “I prefer to go alone.”
“You’d better let me help you,” said the Duke.
“No, your Grace,” said Guerchard firmly.
“I must really insist,” said the Duke.
“No—no—no,” said Guerchard vehemently, with stern decision. “It’s no use your insisting, your Grace; I prefer to go alone. I shall only be gone a minute or two.”
“Just as you like,” said the Duke stiffly.
The legs of Guerchard disappeared up the steps. The Duke stood listening with all his ears. Directly he heard the sound of Guerchard’s heels on the floor, when he dropped from the chimney-piece of the next room, he went swiftly to the door, opened it, and went out. Bonavent was sitting on the chair on which the young policeman had sat during the afternoon. Sonia, in her hat and cloak, was half-way down the stairs.
The Duke put his head inside the drawing-room door, and said to the empty room: “Here is Mademoiselle Kritchnoff, M. Guerchard.” He held open the door, Sonia came down the stairs, and went through it. The Duke followed her into the drawing-room, and shut the door.
“There’s not a moment to lose,” he said in a low voice.