This last blow re-doubled the uneasiness of Count and Countess; and they took counsel in a low voice for a moment with their cousins d'Estreicher and Raoul Davernoie.

Saint-Quentin on hearing Dorothy reveal the events in the ravine and the hiding-place of the man in the blouse had fallen back among the cushions of the great easy chair on which he was sitting. She was going mad! To set them on the trail of the man in the blouse was to set them on their own trail, his and Dorothy's. What madness!

She, however, in the midst of all this excitement and anxiety remained wholly calm. She appeared to be following a quite definite course with her goal clearly in view, while the others, without her guidance, stumbled in a panic.

"Mademoiselle," said the Countess, "your revelations have upset us considerably. They show how extraordinarily acute you are; and I cannot thank you enough for having given us this warning."

"You have treated me so kindly, madame," she replied, "that I am only too delighted to have been of use to you."

"Of immense use to us," agreed the Countess. "And I beg you to make the service complete."

"How?"

"By telling us what you know."

"I don't know any more."

"But perhaps you could learn more?"

"In what way?"

The Countess smiled:

"By means of that skill in divination of which you were telling us a little while ago."

"And in which you do not believe, madame."

"But in which I'm quite ready to believe now."

Dorothy bowed.

"I'm quite willing.... But these are experiments which are not always successful."

"Let's try."

"Right. We'll try. But I must ask you not to expect too much."

She took a handkerchief from Saint-Quentin's pocket and bandaged her eyes with it.

"Astral vision, on condition of being blind," she said. "The less I see the more I see."

And she added gravely:

"Put your questions, madame. I will answer them to the best of my ability."

"Remaining in a state of wakefulness all the time?"

"Yes."

She rested her two elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. The Countess at once said:

"Who has been digging? Who has been making excavations under the fountain and under the sun-dial?"

A minute passed slowly. They had the impression she was concentrating and withdrawing from all contact with the world around her. At last she said in measured tones which bore no resemblance to the accents of a pythoness or a somnambulist.

"I see nothing on the esplanade. In that quarter the excavations must already be several days old, and all traces are obliterated. But in the ravine——"

"In the ravine?" said the Countess.

"The slab is standing on end and a man is digging a hole with a mattock."

"A man? What man? Describe him."

"He is wearing a very long blouse."

"But his face?..."

"His face is encircled by a muffler which passes under a cap with turned-down brim.... You cannot even see his eyes. When he has finished digging he lets the slab fall back into its place and carries away the mattock."

"Nothing else?"

"No. He has found nothing."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Absolutely sure."

"And which way does he go?"

"He goes back up the ravine.... He comes to the iron gates of the chÂteau."

"But they're locked."

"He has the key. He enters.... It is early in the morning.... No one is up.... He directs his steps to the orangerie.... There's a small room there."

"Yes. The gardener keeps his implements in it."

"The man sets the mattock in a corner, takes off his blouse and hangs it on a nail in the wall."

"But he can't be the gardener!" exclaimed the Countess. "His face? Can you see his face?"

"No ... no.... It remains covered up."

"But his clothes?"

"His clothes?... I can't make them out.... He goes out.... He disappears."

The young girl broke off as if her attention were fixed on some one whose outline was blurred and lost in the shadow like a phantom.

"I do not see him any longer," she said. "I can see nothing any longer.... Do I?... Ah yes, the steps of the chÂteau.... The door is shut quietly.... And then ... then the staircase.... A long corridor dimly lighted by small windows.... However I can distinguish some prints ... galloping horses ... sportsmen in red coats.... Ah! The man!... The man is there, on his knees, before a door.... He turns the handle of the door.... It opens."

"It must be one of the servants," said the Countess in a hollow voice. "And it must be a room on the first floor, since there are prints on the passage walls. What is the room like?"

"The shutters are closed. The man has lit a pocket-lamp and is hunting about.... There's a calendar on the chimney-piece.... It's to-day, Wednesday.... And an Empire clock with gilded columns...."

"The clock in my boudoir," murmured the Countess.

"The hands point to a quarter of six.... The light of the lamp is directed to the other side of the room, on to a walnut cupboard with two doors. The man opens the two doors and reveals a safe."

They were listening to Dorothy in a troubled silence, their faces twitching with emotion. How could any one have failed to believe the whole of the vision the young girl was describing, seeing that she had never been over the chÂteau, never crossed the threshold of this boudoir, and that nevertheless she was describing things which must have been unknown to her.

Dumfounded, the Countess exclaimed:

"The safe was unlocked!... I'm certain of it ... I shut it after putting my jewels away ... I can still hear the sound of the door banging!"

"Shut—yes. But the key there."

"What does that matter? I have muddled up the letters of the combination."

"Not so. The key turns."

"Impossible!"

"The key turns. I see the three letters."

"The three letters! You see them!"

"Clearly—an R, an O, and a B, that is to say the first three letters of the word Roborey. The safe is open. There's a jewel-case inside it. The man's hand gropes in it ... and takes...."

"What? What? What has he taken?"

"Two earrings."

"Two sapphires, aren't they? Two sapphires?"

"Yes, madame, two sapphires."

Thoroughly upset and moving jerkily, the Countess went quickly out of the room, followed by her husband, and Raoul Davernoie. And Dorothy heard the Count say:

"If this is true, you'll admit, Davernoie, that this instance of divination would be uncommonly strange."

"Uncommonly strange indeed," replied d'Estreicher who had gone as far as the door with them.

He shut the door on them and came back to the middle of the drawing-room with the manifest intention of speaking to the young girl.

Dorothy had removed the handkerchief from her eyes and was rubbing them like a person who has come out of the dark. The bearded nobleman and she looked at one another for a few moments. Then, after some hesitation, he took a couple of steps back towards the door. But once more he changed his mind and turning towards Dorothy, stroked his beard at length, and at last broke into a quiet, delighted chuckle.

Dorothy, who was never behind-hand when it came to laughing, did as the bearded nobleman had done.

"You laugh?" said he.

"I laugh because you laugh. But I am ignorant of the reason of your gayety. May I learn it?"

"Certainly, mademoiselle. I laugh because I find all that very amusing."

"What is very amusing?"

D'Estreicher came a few steps further into the room and replied:

"What is very amusing is to mix up into one and the same person the individual who was making an excavation under the slab of stone and this other individual who broke into the chÂteau last night and stole the jewels."

"That is to say?" asked the young girl.

"That is to say, to be yet more precise, the idea of throwing beforehand the burden of robbery committed by M. Saint-Quentin——"

"Onto the back of M. d'Estreicher," said Dorothy, ending his sentence for him.

The bearded nobleman made a wry face, but did not protest. He bowed and said:

"That's it, exactly. We may just as well play with our cards on the table, mayn't we? We're neither of us people who have eyes for the purpose of not seeing. And if I saw a black silhouette slip out of a window last night. You, for your part, have seen——"

"A gentleman who received a stone slab on his head."

"Exactly. And I repeat, it's very ingenious of you to try to make them out to be one and the same person. Very ingenious ... and very dangerous."

"In what way is it dangerous?"

"In the sense that every attack provokes a counter-attack."

"I haven't made any attack. But I wished to make it quite clear that I was ready to go to any lengths."

"Even to the length of attributing the theft of this pair of earrings to me?"

"Perhaps."

"Oh! Then I'd better lose no time proving that they're in your hands."

"Be quick about it."

Once more he stopped short on the threshold of the door and said:

"Then we're enemies?"

"We're enemies."

"Why? You're quite unacquainted with me."

"I don't need to be acquainted with you to know who you are."

"What? Who I am? I'm the Chevalier Maxime d'Estreicher."

"Possibly. But you're also the gentleman who, secretly and without his cousins' knowledge, seeks ... that which he has no right to seek. With what object if not to steal it?"

"And that's your business?"

"Yes."

"On what grounds?"

"It won't be long before you learn."

He made a movement—of anger or contempt? He controlled himself and mumbled:

"All the worse for you and all the worse for Saint-Quentin. Good-bye for the present."

Without another word he bowed and went out.

It was an odd fact, but in this kind of brutal and violent duel, Dorothy had kept so cool that hardly had the door closed before, following her instincts of a street Arab, she indulged in a high kick and pirouetted half across the room. Then, satisfied with herself and the way things were going, she opened a glass-case, took from it a bottle of smelling-salts, and went to Saint-Quentin who was lying back in his easy chair.

"Smell it, old chap."

He sniffed it, began to sneeze, and stuttered:

"We're lost!"

"You're a fine fellow, Saint-Quentin! Why do you think we're lost?"

"He's off to denounce us."

"Undoubtedly he's off to buck up the inquiries about us. But as for denouncing us, for telling what he saw this morning, he daren't do it. If he does, I tell in my turn what I saw."

"All the same, Dorothy, there was no point in telling them of the disappearance of the jewels."

"They were bound to discover it sooner or later. The fact of having been the first to speak of it diverts suspicion."

"Or turns it on to us, Dorothy."

"In that case I accuse the bearded nobleman."

"You need proofs."

"I shall find them."

"How you do detest him!"

"No: but I wish to destroy him. He's a dangerous man, Saint-Quentin. I have an intuition of it; and you know that I hardly ever deceive myself. He has all the vices. He is betraying his cousins, the Count and Countess. He is capable of anything. I wish to rid them of him by any means."

Saint-Quentin strove to reassure himself:

"You're amazing. You make combinations and calculations; you act; you foresee. One feels that you direct your course in accordance with a plan."

"In accordance with nothing at all, my lad. I go forward at a venture, and decide as Fortune bids."

"However...."

"I have a definite aim, that's all. Four people confront me, who, there's no doubt about it, are linked together by a common secret. Now the word 'Roborey,' uttered by my father when he was dying, gives me the right to try to find out whether he himself did not form part of this group, and if, in consequence, his daughter is not qualified to take his place. Up to now the four people hold together and keep me at a distance. I have vainly attempted the impossible to obtain their confidence in the first place and after it their confessions, so far without any result. But I shall succeed."

She stamped her foot, with an abruptness in which was suddenly manifest all the energy and decision which animated this smiling and delicate creature, and she said again:

"I shall succeed, Saint-Quentin. I swear it. I am not at the end of my revelations. There is another which will persuade them perhaps to be more open with me."

"What is it, Dorothy?"

"I know what I'm doing, my lad."

She was silent. She gazed through the open window near which Castor and Pollux were fighting. The noise of hurrying footsteps reËchoed about the chÂteau. People were calling out to one another. A servant ran across the court at full speed and shut the gates, leaving a small part of the crowd and three or four caravans, of which one was Dorothy's Circus, in the court-yard.

"The p-p-policemen! The p-p-policemen!" stammered Saint-Quintin. "There they are! They're examining the Rifle-Range!"

"And d'Estreicher is with them," observed the young girl.

"Oh, Dorothy, what have you done?"

"It's all the same to me," she said, wholly unmoved. "These people have a secret which perhaps belongs to me as much as to them. I wish to know it. Excitement, sensations, all that works in my favor."

"Nevertheless...."

"Pipe, Saint-Quentin. To-day decides my future. Instead of trembling, rejoice ... a fox-trot, old chap!"

She threw an arm round his waist, and propping him up like a tailor's dummy with wobbly legs, she forced him to turn; climbing in at the window, Castor and Pollux, followed by Captain Montfaucon, started to dance round the couple, chanting the air of the Capucine, first in the drawing-room, then across the large hall. But a fresh failure of Saint-Quentin's legs dashed the spirits of the dancers.

Dorothy lost her temper.

"What's the matter with you now?" she cried, trying to raise him and keep him upright.

He stuttered:

"I'm afraid ... I'm afraid."

"But why on earth are you afraid? I've never seen you in such a funk. What are you afraid of?"

"The jewels...."

"Idiot! But you've thrown them into the clump!"

"No."

"You haven't?"

"No."

"But where are they then?"

"I don't know. I looked for them in the basket as you told me to. They weren't there any longer. The little card-board box had disappeared."

During his explanation Dorothy grew graver and graver. The danger suddenly grew clear to her.

"Why didn't you tell me about it? I should not have acted as I did."

"I didn't dare to. I didn't want to worry you."

"Ah, Saint-Quentin, you were wrong, my lad."

She uttered no other reproach, but added:

"What's your explanation?"

"I suppose I made a mistake and didn't put the earrings in the basket ... but somewhere else ... in some other part of the caravan.... I've looked everywhere without finding them.... But those policemen—they'll find them."

The young girl was overwhelmed. The earrings discovered in her possession, the theft duly verified meant arrest and jail.

"Leave me to my fate," groaned Saint-Quentin. "I'm nothing but an imbecile.... A criminal.... Don't try to save me.... Throw all the blame on me, since it is the truth."

At that moment a police-inspector in uniform appeared on the threshold of the hall, under the guidance of one of the servants.

"Not a word," murmured Dorothy. "I forbid you to utter a single word."

The inspector came forward:

"Mademoiselle Dorothy?"

"I'm Mademoiselle Dorothy, inspector. What is it you want?"

"Follow me. It will be necessary...."

He was interrupted by the entrance of the Countess who hurried in, accompanied by her husband and Raoul Davernoie.

"No, no, inspector!" she exclaimed. "I absolutely oppose anything which might appear to show a lack of trust in mademoiselle. There is some misunderstanding."

Raoul Davernoie also protested. But Count Octave observed:

"Bear in mind, dear, that this is merely a formality, a general measure which the inspector is bound to take. A robbery has been committed, it is only right that the inquiry should include everybody——"

"But it was mademoiselle who informed of the robbery," interrupted the Countess. "It is she who for the last hour has been warning us of all that is being plotted against us!"

"But why not let her be questioned like everybody else? As d'Estreicher said just now, it's possible that your earrings were not stolen from your safe. You may have put them in your ears without thinking to-day, and then lost them out-of-doors ... where some one has picked them up."

The inspector, an honest fellow who seemed very much annoyed by this difference of opinion between the Count and Countess, did not know what to do. Dorothy helped him out of the awkward situation.

"I quite agree with you, Count. My part in the business may very well appear suspicious to you; and you have the right to ask how I know the word that opens the safe, and if my talents as a diviner are enough to explain my clairvoyance. There isn't any reason then for making an exception in my favor."

She bent low before the Countess and gently kissed her hand.

"You mustn't be present at the inquiry, madame. It's not a pleasant business. For me, it's one of the risks we strolling entertainers run; but you would find it painful. Only, I beg you, for reasons which you will presently understand, to come back to us after they have questioned me."

"I promise you I will."

"I'm at your service, inspector."

She went off with her four companions and the inspector of police. Saint-Quentin had the air of a condemned criminal being led to the gallows. Captain Montfaucon, his hands in his pockets, the string round his wrist, dragged along his baggage-wagon and whistled an American tune, like a gallant fellow who knows that all these little affairs always end well.

At the end of the court-yard, the last of the country folk were departing through the open gates, beside which the gamekeeper was posted. The showmen were grouped about their tents and in the orangery where the second policeman was examining their licenses.

On reaching her caravan, Dorothy perceived d'Estreicher talking to two servants.

"You then are the director of the inquiry, monsieur?" she said gayly.

"I am indeed, mademoiselle—in your interest," he said in the same tone.

"Then I have no doubt about the result of it," she said; and turning to the inspector, she added: "I have no keys to give you. Dorothy's Circus has no locks. Every thing is open to the world. Empty hands and empty pockets."

The inspector seemed to have no great relish for the job. The two servants did their best and d'Estreicher made no bones about advising them.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle," he said to the young girl, taking her on one side. "I'm of the opinion that no effort should be spared to make your complicity quite out of the question."

"It's a serious business," she said ironically.

"In what way?"

"Well, recall our conversation. There's a criminal: if it isn't me, it's you."

D'Estreicher must have considered the young girl a formidable adversary, and he must have been frightened by her threats, for while he remained quite agreeable, gallant even, jesting with her, he was indefatigable in his investigation. At his bidding the servants lifted down the baskets and boxes, and displayed her wretched wardrobe, in the strongest contrast to the brilliantly colored handkerchiefs and shawls with which the young girl loved to adorn herself.

They found nothing.

They searched the walls and platform of the caravan, the mattresses, the harness of One-eyed Magpie, the sack of oats, and the food. Nothing.

They searched the four boys. A maid felt Dorothy's clothes. The search was fruitless. The earrings were not to be found.

"And that?" said d'Estreicher, pointing to the huge basket loaded with pots and pans which hung under the vehicle.

With a furtive kick on the ankle Dorothy straightened Saint-Quentin who was tottering.

"Let's bolt!" he stuttered.

"Don't be a fool. The earrings are no longer there."

"I may have made a mistake."

"You're an idiot. One doesn't make a mistake in a case like that."

"Then where is the card-board box?"

"Have you got your eyes stuffed up?"

"You can see it, can you?"

"Of course I can see it—as plainly as the nose in the middle of your face."

"In the caravan?"

"No."

"Where?"

"On the ground ten yards away from you, between the legs of the bearded one."

She glanced at the wagon of Captain Montfaucon which the child had abandoned to play with a doll, and the little packages from which, miniature bags and trunks and parcels, lay on the ground beside d'Estreicher's heels.

One of these packages was nothing else than the card-board box which contained the earrings. Captain Montfaucon had that afternoon added it to what he called his haulage material.

In confiding her unexpected discovery to Saint-Quentin, Dorothy, who did not suspect the keenness of the subtlety and power of observation of the man she was fighting, committed an irreparable imprudence. It was not on the young girl that d'Estreicher was keeping watch from behind the screen of his spectacles, but on her comrade Saint-Quentin whose distress and feebleness he had been quick to notice. Dorothy herself remained impassive. But would not Saint-Quentin end by giving some indication?

That was what happened. When he recognized the little box with the red gutta-percha ring round it, Saint-Quentin heaved a great sigh in his sudden relief. He told himself that it would never occur to any one to untie these child's toys which lay on the ground for any one to pick up. Several times, without the slightest suspicion, d'Estreicher had brushed them aside with his feet and stumbled over the wagon, winning from the Captain this sharp reprimand:

"Now then, sir! What would you say, if you had a car and I knocked it over?"

Saint-Quentin raised his head with a cheerful air. D'Estreicher followed the direction of his gaze and instinctively understood. The earrings were there, under the protection of Fortune and with the unwitting complicity of the captain. But in which of the packages? The card-board box seemed to him to be the most likely. Without a word he bent quickly down and seized it. He drew himself up, opened it with a furtive movement, and perceived, among some small white pebbles and shells, the two sapphires.

He looked at Dorothy. She was very pale.