communicating with the Paris police.

"Hang it all!" said the Duke. "There must be some way out of the
difficulty."

"What way?" said the millionaire.

The Duke did not answer. He put his hands in his pockets and walked
impatiently up and down the hall. Germaine sat down on a chair.
Sonia put her hands on the back of a couch, and leaned forward,
watching him. Firmin stood by the door, whither he had retired to be
out of the reach of his excited master, with a look of perplexity on
his stolid face. They all watched the Duke with the air of people
waiting for an oracle to deliver its message. The millionaire kept
mopping the beads of anguish from his brow. The more he thought of
his impending loss, the more freely he perspired. Germaine's maid,
Irma, came to the door leading into the outer hall, which Firmin,
according to his usual custom, had left open, and peered in wonder
at the silent group.

"I have it!" cried the Duke at last. "There is a way out."

"What is it?" said the millionaire, rising and coming to the middle
of the hall.

"What time is it?" said the Duke, pulling out his watch.

The millionaire pulled out his watch. Germaine pulled out hers.
Firmin, after a struggle, produced from some pocket difficult of
access an object not unlike a silver turnip. There was a brisk