CHAPTER XII

THE THEFT OF THE PENDANT


They stood round the millionaire observing his anguish, with eyes in
which shone various degrees of sympathy. 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!"

The Duke's lips parted slightly and his eyes opened a trifle wider
than their wont. He turned sharply on his heel, and almost sprang
into the other drawing-room. There he laughed at his ease.

M. Formery kept saying to the millionaire: "Be calm, M. Gournay-
Martin. Be calm! We shall recover your masterpieces. I pledge you my
word. All we need is time. Have patience. Be calm!"

His soothing remonstrances at last had their effect. The millionaire
grew calm:

"Guerchard?" he said. "Where is Guerchard?"