The Duke stooped down carelessly and picked up a book which had fallen from a table.
"Excuse me, but please—please—do not touch anything," said M. Formery quickly.
"Why, this is odd," said the Duke, staring at the floor.
"What is odd?" said M. Formery.
"Well, this book looks as if it had been knocked off the table by one of the burglars. And look here; here's a footprint under it—a footprint on the carpet," said the Duke.
M. Formery and the inspector came quickly to the spot. There, where the book had fallen, plainly imprinted on the carpet, was a white footprint. M. Formery and the inspector stared at it.
"It looks like plaster. How did plaster get here?" said M. Formery, frowning at it.
"Well, suppose the robbers came from the garden," said the Duke.
"Of course they came from the garden, your Grace. Where else should they come from?" said M. Formery, with a touch of impatience in his tone.
"Well, at the end of the garden they're building a house," said the Duke.
"Of course, of course," said M. Formery, taking him up quickly. "The burglars came
