“Nonsense!” said I aloud and peevishly; and I thrust the letter into my pocket, cheek by jowl with the Cardinal’s Necklace.  And being thus vividly reminded of the presence of that undesired treasure, I became clearly resolved that I must not be arrested for theft merely because the Duchess of Saint-Maclou chose (from hurry, or carelessness, or what motive you will) to sign a disagreeable and unnecessary communication with her Christian name and nothing more, nor because Mlle. Delhasse chose to vanish without a word of civil farewell.  Let them go their ways—­I did not know which of them annoyed me more.  Notwithstanding the letter, notwithstanding the disappearance, my scheme must be carried out.  And then—­for home!  But the conclusion came glum and displeasing.

The scheme was very simple.  I intended to spend the hours of the night in an excursion to the duke’s house.  I knew that old Jean slept in a detached cottage about half a mile from the château.  Here I should find the old man.  I would hand to him the necklace in its box, without telling him what the contents of the box were.  Jean would carry the parcel to his master, and deliver with it a message to the effect that a gentleman who had left Avranches that afternoon had sent the parcel by a messenger to the duke, inasmuch as he had reason to believe that the article contained therein was the property of the duke and that the duke would probably be glad to have it restored to him.  The significant reticence of this message was meant to inform the duke that Marie Delhasse was not so solitary in her flight but that she could find a cavalier to do her errands for her, and one who would not acquiesce in the retention of the diamonds.  I imagined, with a great deal of pleasure, what the duke’s feelings would be in face of the communication.  Thus, then, the diamonds were to be restored, the duke disgusted, and I myself freed from all my troubles.  I have often thought since that the scheme was really very ingenious, and showed a talent for intrigue which has been notably wanting in the rest of my humble career.

The scheme once prosperously carried through, I should, of course, take my departure at the earliest moment on the following day.  I might, or I might not, write a line of dignified remonstrance to the duchess, but I should make no attempt to see her; and I should most certainly go.  Moreover, it would be a long while before I accepted any of her harum-scarum invitations again.

“Elsa” indeed!  Somehow I could not say it with quite the indignant scorn which I desired should be manifest in my tone.  I have never been able to be indignant with the duchess; although I have laughed at her.  Now I could be, and was, indignant with Marie Delhasse; though, in truth, her difficult position pleaded excuses for her treatment of me which the duchess could not advance.