n honest woman can't sleep in peace in her
bed of a night without being disturbed by rascals like that. And if the
police did their duty things like this wouldn't happen. And I don't
care who hears me say it."

"You say that you were taken by surprise in your sleep?" said M.
Formery. "You say you saw nothing, and heard nothing?"

"There was no time to see anything or hear anything. They trussed us up
like greased lightning," said the concierge.

"But the gag was the worst," said the wife. "To lie there and not be
able to tell the rascals what I thought about them!"

"Didn't you hear the noise of footsteps in the garden?" said M. Formery.

"One can't hear anything that happens in the garden from our bedroom,"
said the concierge.

"Even the night when Mlle. Germaine's great Dane barked from twelve
o'clock till seven in the morning, all the household was kept awake
except us; but bless you, sir, we slept like tops," said his wife
proudly.

"If they sleep like that it seems rather a waste of time to have gagged
them," whispered the Duke to the inspector.

The inspector grinned, and whispered scornfully, "Oh, them common
folks; they do sleep like that, your Grace."

"Didn't you hear any noise at the front door?" said M. Formery.

"No, we heard no noise at the door," said the concierge.

"Then you heard no noise at all the whole night?" said M. Formery.

"Oh, yes, sir, we heard noise enough after we'd been gagged," said the
concierge.

"Now, this is important," said M. Formery. "What kind of a noise was
it?"

"Well, it was a bumping kind of noise," said the concierge. "And there
was a noise of footsteps, walking about the room."

"What room? Where did these noises come from?" said M. Formery.

"From the room over our heads--the big drawing-room," said the
concierge.

"Didn't you hear any noise of a struggle, as if somebody was being
dragged about--no screaming or crying?" said M. Formery.

The concierge and his wife looked at one another with inquiring eyes.

"No, I didn't," said the concierge.

"Neither did I," said his wife.

M. Formery paused. Then he said, "How long have you been in the service
of M. Gournay-Martin?"

"A little more than a year," said the concierge.

M. Formery looked at the paper in his hand, frowned, and said severely,
"I see you've been convicted twice, my man."

"Yes, sir, but--"

"My husband's an honest man, sir--perfectly honest," broke in his wife.
"You've only to a