“Well?” said the Duke, “have you sent that poor child off to prison? If I’d done a thing like that I don’t think I should sleep very well, M. Guerchard.”
“That poor child has just escaped, by means of a forged permit,” said Guerchard very glumly.
“By Jove, I AM glad to hear that!” cried the Duke. “You’ll forgive my lack of sympathy, M. Guerchard; but she was such a child.”
“Not too young to be Lupin’s accomplice,” said Guerchard drily.
“You really think she is?” said the Duke, in a tone of doubt.
“I’m sure of it,” said Guerchard, with decision; then he added slowly, with a perplexed air:
“But how—how—could she get that forged permit?”
The Duke shook his head, and looked as solemn as an owl. 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—”