none of it. She got in unassisted, and Gustave followed her. They were about to move off, when suddenly, running from the house in wild dismay, came Marie Delhasse, and caring for none of those who stood round, she seized my arm, crying:
“My mother is neither in the sitting room nor in her bedroom! Where is she?”
Now I saw no need to tell Marie at that time what had become of Mme. Delhasse. The matter, however, was not left in my hands; no, nor in those of Gustave de Berensac, who called out hastily to the driver, “Ready! Go on, go on!” The duchess called “Wait!” and then she turned to Marie Delhasse and said in calm cold tones:
“You ask where your mother is. Well, then, where is the necklace?”
Marie drew back as though she had been struck; yet her grip did not leave my arm, but tightened on it.
“The necklace?” she gasped.
And the duchess, using the most scornful words she knew and giving a short little laugh, said.
“Your mother has levanted with the necklace. Of course you didn’t know!”
Thus, if Marie Delhasse had been stern to the Duke of Saint-Maclou when he lay dying, his wife avenged him to the full and more. For at the words, at the sight of the duchess’ disdainful face and of my troubled look, Marie uttered a cry and reeled and sank half-fainting in my arms.
