Thereupon Superintendent Battle took his departure.
He had no intention of taking George any further into his confidence.
On the way back, he passed Anthony on the road and stopped.
“Going to give me a lift back to the house?” asked Anthony. “That’s good.”
“Where have you been, Mr. Cade?”
“Down to the station to inquire about trains.”
Battle raised his eyebrows.
“Thinking of leaving us again?” he inquired.
“Not just at present,” laughed Anthony. “By the way, what’s upset Isaacstein? He arrived in the car just as I left, and he looked as though something had given him a nasty jolt.”
“Mr. Isaacstein?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t say, I’m sure. I fancy it would take a good deal to jolt him.”
“So do I,” agreed Anthony. “He’s quite one of the strong silent yellow men of finance.”
Suddenly Battle leant forward and touched the chauffeur on the shoulder.
“Stop, will you? And wait for me here.”
He jumped out of the car, much to Anthony’s surprise. But in a minute or two, the latter perceived M. Lemoine advancing to meet the English detective, and gathered that it was a signal from him which had attracted Battle’s attention.
There was a rapid colloquy between them, and then the superintendent returned to the car and jumped in again, biding the chauffeur drive on.
His expression had completely changed.
“They’ve found the revolver,” he said suddenly and curtly.
“What?”
Anthony gazed at him in great surprise.
“Where?”
“In Isaacstein’s suitcase.”
“Oh, impossible!”
“Nothing’s impossible,” said Battle. “I ought to have remembered that.”
He sat perfectly still, tapping his knee with his hand.
“Who found it?”
Battle jerked his head over his shoulder.
“Lemoine. Clever chap. They think no end of him at the Sûreté.”
“But doesn’t this upset all your ideas?”
“No,” said Superintendent Battle very slowly. “I can’t say it does. It was a bit of a surprise, I admit, at first. But it fits in very well with one idea of mine.”
“Which is?”
But the superintendent branched off on to a totally different subject.
“I wonder if you’d mind finding Mr. Eversleigh for me, sir? There’s a message for him from Mr. Lomax. He’s to go over to the Abbey at once.”
“All right,” said Anthony. The car had just drawn up at the great door. “He’s probably in bed still.”
“I think not,” said the detective. “If you’ll look, you’ll see him walking under the trees with Mrs. Revel.”
“Wonderful eyes you have, haven’t you, Battle?” said Anthony as he departed on his errand.
He delivered the message to Bill, who was duly disgusted.
“Damn it all,” grumbled Bill to himself, as he strode off to the house, “why can’t Codders sometimes leave me alone? And why can’t these blasted Colonials stay in their Colonies? What do they want to come over here for, and pick out all the best girls? I’m fed to the teeth with everything.”
“Have you heard about the revolver?” asked Virginia breathlessly, as Bill left them.
“Battle told me. Rather staggering, isn’t it? Isaacstein was in a frightful state yesterday to get away, but I thought it was just nerves. He’s about the one person I’d have pitched upon as being above suspicion. Can you see any motive for his wanting Prince Michael out of the way?”
“It certainly doesn’t fit in,” agreed Virginia thoughtfully.
“Nothing fits in anywhere,” said Anthony discontentedly. “I rather fancied myself as an amateur detective to begin with, and so far all I’ve done is to clear the character of the French governess at vast trouble and some little expense.”
“Is that what you went to France for?” inquired Virginia.
“Yes, I went to Dinard and had an interview with the Comtesse de Breteuil, awfully pleased with my own cleverness, and fully expecting to be told that no such person as Mademoiselle Brun had ever been heard of. Instead of which I was given to understand that the lady in question had been the mainstay of the household for the last seven years. So, unless the Comtesse is also a crook, that ingenious theory of mine falls to the ground.”
Virginia shook her head.
“Madame de Breteuil is quite above suspicion. I know her quite well, and I fancy I must have come across Mademoiselle at the château. I certainly know her face quite well—in that vague way one does know governesses and companions and people one sits opposite to in trains. It’s awful, but I never really look at them properly. Do you?”
“Only if they’re exceptionally beautiful,” admitted Anthony.
“Well, in this case—” she broke off. “What’s the matter?”
Anthony was staring at a figure which detached itself from the clump of trees and stood there rigidly at attention. It was the Herzoslovakian, Boris.
“Excuse me,” said Anthony to Virginia, “I must just speak to my dog a minute.”
He went across to where Boris was standing.
“What’s the matter? What do you want?”
“Master,” said Boris, bowing.
“Yes, that’s all very well, but you mustn’t keep following me about like this. It looks odd.”
Without a word, Boris produced a soiled scrap of paper, evidently torn from a letter, and handed it to Anthony.
“What’s this?” said Anthony.
There was an address scrawled on the paper, nothing else.
“He dropped it,” said Boris. “I bring it to the Master.”
“Who dropped it?”
“The foreign gentleman.”
“But why bring it to me?”
Boris looked at him reproachfully.
“Well, anyway, go away now,” said Anthony. “I’m busy.”
Boris saluted, turned sharply on his heel, and marched away. Anthony rejoined Virginia, thrusting the piece of paper into his pocket.
“What did he want?” she asked curiously. “And why do you call him your dog?”
“Because he acts like one,” said Anthony, answering the last question first. “He must have been a retriever in his last incarnation, I think. He’s just brought me a piece of a letter which he says the foreign gentleman dropped. I suppose he means Lemoine.”
“I suppose so,” acquiesced Virginia.
“He’s always following me round,” continued Anthony. “Just like a dog. Says next to nothing. Just looks at me with his big round eyes. I can’t make him out.”
“Perhaps he meant Isaacstein,” suggested Virginia. “Isaacstein looks foreign enough, Heaven knows.”
“Isaacstein,” muttered
