key and another. The door remained locked.
"Let me, your Grace," said the inspector. "I'm more used to it. I shall be quicker."
The Duke handed the keys to him, and, one after another, the inspector fitted them into the lock. It was useless. None of them opened the door.
"They've given me the wrong keys," said the Duke, with some vexation. "Or no—stay—I see what's happened. The keys have been changed."
"Changed?" said the inspector. "When? Where?"
"Last night at Charmerace," said the Duke. "M. Gournay-Martin declared that he saw a burglar slip out of one of the windows of the hall of the chÂteau, and we found the lock of the bureau in which the keys were kept broken."
The inspector seized the knocker, and hammered on the door.
"Try that door there," he cried to his men, pointing to a side-door on the right, the tradesmen's entrance, giving access to the back of the house. It was locked. There came no sound of movement in the house in answer to the inspector's knocking.
"Where's the concierge?" he said.
The Duke shrugged his shoulders. "There's
