“Well, do your best, Battle, do your best. I am terribly rushed just at present.”
“Just so, sir.”
“By the way, why did not Mr. Eversleigh come over with you?”
“He was still asleep, sir. We’ve been up all night, as I told you.”
“Oh, quite so. I am frequently up nearly the whole night myself. To do the work of thirty-six hours in twenty-four, that is my constant task! Send Mr. Eversleigh over at once when you get back, will you, Battle?”
“I will give him your message, sir.”
“Thank you, Battle. I realize perfectly that you had to repose a certain amount of confidence in him. But do you think it was strictly necessary to take my cousin, Mrs. Revel, into your confidence also?”
“In view of the name signed to those letters, I do, Mr. Lomax.”
“An amazing piece of effrontery,” murmured George, his brow darkened as he looked at the bundle of letters. “I remember the late King of Herzoslovakia. A charming fellow, but weak—deplorably weak. A tool in the hands of an unscrupulous woman. Have you any theory as to how these letters came to be restored to Mr. Cade?”
“It’s my opinion,” said Battle, “that if people can’t get a thing one way—they try another.”