"So . . . you're going to arrest her . . . you're going to arrest her?" said the Duke thoughtfully: and he took a step or two up and down the room, still thinking hard.
"Well, you understand the position, don't you, your Grace?" said Guerchard, in a tone of apology. "Believe me that, personally, I've no animosity against Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. In fact, the child attracts me."
"Yes," said the Duke softly, in a musing tone. "She has the air of a child who has lost its way . . . lost its way in life. . . . And that poor little hiding-place she found . . . that rolled-up handkerchief . . . thrown down in the corner of the little room in the house next door . . . it was absolutely absurd."
"What! A handkerchief!" cried Guerchard, with an air of sudden, utter surprise.
"The child's clumsiness is positively pitiful," said the Duke.
"What was in the handkerchief? . . . The pearls of the pendant?" cried Guerchard.
"Yes: I supposed you knew all about it. Of course M. Formery left word for you," said the Duke, with an air of surprise at the ignorance of the detective.
"No: I've heard nothing about it," cried Guerchard.
