"Oh!" cried Germaine, almost in a scream. "It's incredible! It's one
of Jacques' jokes!"




CHAPTER VIII

THE DUKE ARRIVES


The morning was gloomy, and the police-station with its bare, white-
washed walls--their white expanse was only broken by notice-boards
to which were pinned portraits of criminals with details of their
appearance, their crime, and the reward offered for their
apprehension--with its shabby furniture, and its dingy fireplace,
presented a dismal and sordid appearance entirely in keeping with
the September grey. The inspector sat at his desk, yawning after a
night which had passed without an arrest. He was waiting to be
relieved. The policeman at the door and the two policemen sitting on
a bench by the wall yawned in sympathy.

The silence of the street was broken by the rattle of an uncommonly
noisy motor-car. 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.