“I would rather stay near Florence,” he answered.
“Very well.” Dr. Lytton stood up. “Of course the unexpected may upset us. One must always keep one’s mind open to the unexpected and study it and resolve it automatically into the expected. But at this moment I am convinced that Rollo, Maine, is the end of our search.”
De Medici appeared to galvanize into sudden activity.
“Excellent, Hugo,” he cried. “I’ll telephone. There must be a train leaving before morning. It’s only eleven.”
He busied himself raising the railroad information clerk on the wire.
“She leaves at eleven thirty,” De Medici cried, hanging up. “Just enough time for you to take it. Gets in to Rollo or somewhere near Rollo at daybreak.”
“Thanks.” Dr. Lytton looked at him. “I’ll take it. And you’ll probably hear by telegraph from me before noon.”
The two men shook hands.
“Calm, now,” Dr. Lytton smiled.
De Medici was bustling him out of the room. “Good-by,” he called, “and good luck.”