Grace," said Sonia.

The Duke opened the door of the hall for her; and as she went out, she
said anxiously, in a low voice: "Oh, do--do be careful. I hate to think
of your hurrying to Paris on a night like this. Please be careful."

"I will be careful," said the Duke.

The honk of the motor-horn told him that Jean had brought the car to
the door of the chateau. He came down the room, kissed Germaine's
hands, shook hands with the millionaire, and bade them good-night. Then
he went out to the car. They heard it start; the rattle of it grew
fainter and fainter down the long avenue and died away.

M. Gournay-Martin arose, and began putting out lamps. As he did so, he
kept casting fearful glances at the window, as if he feared lest, now
that the Duke had gone, the burglars should dash in upon him.

There came a knock at the door, and Jean appeared on the threshold.

"His Grace told me that I was to come into the house, and help Firmin
look after it," he said.

The millionaire gave him instructions about the guarding of the house.
Firmin, since he was an old soldier, was to occupy the post of honour,
and guard the hall, armed with his gun. Jean was to guard the two
drawing-rooms, as being less likely points of attack. He also was to
have a gun; and the millionaire went with him to the gun-room and gave
him one and a dozen cartridges. When they came back to the hall, Sonia
called them into the dining-room; and there, to the accompaniment of an
unsubdued grumbling from Germaine at having to eat cold food at eight
at night, they made a hasty but excellent meal, since the chef had left
an elaborate cold supper ready to be served.

They had nearly finished it when Jean came in, his gun on his arm, to
say that Firmin had harnessed the horse to the luggage-cart, and it was
awaiting them at the door of the chateau.

"Send him in to me, and stand by the horse till we come out," said the
millionaire.

Firmin came clumping in.

The millionaire gazed at him solemnly, and said: "Firmin, I am relying
on you. I am leaving you in a position of honour and danger--a position
which an old soldier of France loves."

Firmin did his best to look like an old soldier of France. He pulled
himself up out of the slouch which long years of loafing through woods
with a gun on his arm had given him. He lacked also the old soldier of
France's fiery gaze. His eyes were lack-lustre.

"I look for anything, Firmin--burglary, violence, an armed