The door opened, and in came M. Gournay-Martin, holding a bag in his hand. “It seems to be settled that I’m never to sleep in my own house again,” he said in a grumbling tone.
“There’s no reason to go,” said the Duke. “Why ARE you going?”
“Danger,” said M. Gournay-Martin. “You read Lupin’s telegram: ‘I shall come to-night between a quarter to twelve and midnight to take the coronet.’ He knows that it was in my bedroom. Do you think I’m going to sleep in that room with the chance of that scoundrel turning up and cutting my throat?”
“Oh, you can have a dozen policemen in the room if you like,” said the Duke. “Can’t he, M. Guerchard?”
“Certainly,” said Guerchard. “I can answer for it that you will be in no danger, M. Gournay-Martin.”
“Thank you,” said the millionaire. “But all the same, outside is good enough for me.”
Germaine came into the room, cloaked and ready to start.
“For once in a way you are ready first, papa,” she said. “Are you coming, Jacques?”
“No; I think I’ll stay here, on the chance that Lupin is not bluffing,” said the Duke. “I don’t think, myself, that I’m going to be gladdened by the sight of him—in fact, I’m ready to bet against it. But you’re all so certain about it that I really must stay on the chance. And, after all, there’s no doubt that he’s a man of immense audacity and ready to take any risk.”
“Well, at any rate, if he does come he won’t find the diadem,” said M. Gournay-Martin, in a tone of triumph. “I’m taking it with me—I’ve got it here.” And he held up his bag.