He broke off his musings and turned them on Norton. A buoyancy played under his thought.
“A clever man,” he smiled to himself, “but blinded by preconceptions and prejudices. He’ll hem and haw, stammer and grow desperate, as I reason his quarry out of his hands....”
The valet entered. De Medici looked up from his food.
“A telegram for you, sir,” said Harding.
“Sign for it,” De Medici nodded.
A few minutes later the valet returned with a yellow envelope. De Medici opened it. His lips parted in astonishment and his eyes stared confusedly as he read:
Julien De Medici,
Have found Floria. Am bringing her back on train. Arrives eleven tonight. She has confessed in full and I have cleared up entire mystery. Our first theory correct. Meet me at station. Imperative.
Hugo Lytton, Rollo, Maine.
De Medici studied the astounding document while his watch ticked away a full ten minutes.
“Hugo has gone mad,” he finally murmured to himself. There was no other explanation. Floria captured in Rollo, Maine! A full confession! When only a few hours ago she had been in his bedroom, had struck at him with her dagger.
“Damn that imbecile,” De Medici muttered. He was thinking of his friend, his bald-headed, glittering-eyed, smug-spoken friend who had gone to Rollo and left his reason in New York.