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It stopped before the door of the police-station, and the eyes of the inspector and his men turned, idly expectant, to the door of the office. It opened, and a young man in motor-coat and cap stood on the threshold. He looked round the office with alert eyes, which took in everything, and said, in a brisk, incisive voice: "I am the Duke of Charmerace. I am here on behalf of M. Gournay-Martin.
On each was printed: "M. Gournay-Martin has the honour to inform you of the marriage of his daughter Germaine to the Duke of Charmerace." She wrote steadily on, adding envelope after envelope to the pile ready for the post, which rose in front of her.
"Now let us settle exactly how we stand," said Lupin, in a clear, incisive voice. "The bargain is this: If I give you the pictures, the tapestry, the cabinets, the coronet, and the death-certificate of the Duke of Charmerace, you give me your word of honour that Mademoiselle Kritchnoff shall not be touched." "That's it!" said Guerchard eagerly.
"Ready?" said Lupin; and he dictated: "MADEMOISELLE," "I have a very robust constitution, and my indisposition will very soon be over. I shall have the honour of sending, this afternoon, my humble wedding present to the future Madame de Relzieres." "For Jacques de Bartut, Marquis de Relzieres, Prince of Virieux, Duke of Charmerace." "His butler, ARSENE."
"Now what on earth has your father's rheumatism got to do with your being Duchess of Charmerace?" cried Jeanne. "Everything," said Germaine. "Papa was afraid that this chateau was damp. To prove to papa that he had nothing to fear, Jacques, en grand seigneur, offered him his hospitality, here, at Charmerace, for three weeks." "That was truly ducal," said Marie.
I said, 'He's the very spit of you, master. And you said, 'There's something to be done with that, Charolais. And then off you started for the ice and snow and found the Duke, and became his friend; and then he went and died, not that you'd have helped him to, if he hadn't." "Poor Charmerace. He was indeed grand seigneur.
That done he looked at himself earnestly for two or three minutes; and, as he looked, a truly marvellous transformation took place: the features of Arsene Lupin, of the Duke of Charmerace, decomposed, actually decomposed, into the features of Jean Guerchard. He looked at himself and laughed, the gentle, husky laugh of Guerchard.
"And the time when he contrived to pass as Guerchard the Great Guerchard do you remember that?" the Duke interrupted. "Come, come to give the devil his due between ourselves it wasn't half bad." "No," snarled Guerchard. "But he has done better than that lately.... Why don't you speak of that?" "Of what?" said the Duke. "Of the time when he passed as the Duke of Charmerace," snapped Guerchard.
It's no good crying over spilt milk." M. Formery folded his arms and walked, frowning, backwards and forwards across the room. He stopped, raised his hand with a gesture commanding attention, and said, "I have no hesitation in saying that there is a connection an intimate connection between the thefts at Charmerace and this burglary!"
Guerchard staggered to his feet and cried hoarsely, frantically: "Stop him from leaving the house! Follow him! Arrest him! Catch him before he gets home!" The cold light of the early September morning illumined but dimly the charming smoking-room of the Duke of Charmerace in his house at 34 B, University Street, though it stole in through two large windows.
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