“Where did you spring from?” asked Anthony irritably.
With a slight jerk of his head, Battle indicated the little copse of trees behind them.
“It seems a popular spot this afternoon,” remarked Anthony.
“You were very lost in thought, Mr. Cade?”
“I was indeed. Do you know what I was doing, Battle? I was trying to put two and one and five and three together so as to make four. And it can’t be done, Battle, it simply can’t be done.”
“There’s difficulties that way,” agreed the detective.
“But you’re just the man I wanted to see. Battle, I want to go away. Can it be done?”
True to his creed, Superintendent Battle showed neither emotion nor surprise. His reply was easy and matter of fact.
“That depends, sir, as to where you want to go.”
“I’ll tell you exactly, Battle. I’ll lay my cards upon the table. I want to go to Dinard, to the Château of Madame la Comtesse de Breteuil. Can it be done?”
“When do you want to go, Mr. Cade?”
“Say tomorrow after the inquest. I could be back here by Sunday evening.”
“I see,” said the superintendent, with peculiar solidity.
“Well, what about it?”