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Updated: May 29, 2025
As if no longer able to bear the sight of such woe, Sonia slipped out of the room. The millionaire lamented his loss and abused the thieves by turns, but always at the top of his magnificent voice. Suddenly a fresh idea struck him. He clapped his hand to his brow and cried: "That eight hundred pounds! Charolais will never buy the Mercrac now! He was not a bona fide purchaser!"
His moustache had vanished, and along with it the dress of a well-to-do provincial man of business. He wore a livery of the Charmeraces, and at that early morning hour had not yet assumed the blue waistcoat which is an integral part of it. Indeed it would have required an acute and experienced observer to recognize in him the bogus purchaser of the Mercrac.
A dim light shone from the open door of the motor-house. The Duke went into it first, and stopped short. "Well, I'll be hanged!" he cried, Instead of three cars the motor-house held but one the hundred horse-power Mercrac. It was a racing car, with only two seats. On them sat two figures, Jean and Firmin. "What are you sitting there for? You idle dogs!" bellowed the millionaire.
"When he received the letter from Arsene Lupin, M. Gournay-Martin decided to start for Paris at once," said the Duke. "But when we sent for the cars we found that they had just been stolen. M. Gournay-Martin's chauffeur and another servant were in the garage gagged and bound. Only an old car, a hundred horse-power Mercrac, was left.
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