“ Where did you last see our precious Colonel?” asked Flambeau, irritably.
“ He’s round at the Hotel Saint Louis by the Elysee, where we drove with him. He’s packing up, I tell you.”
“ Will he be there still, do you think?” asked Flambeau, frowning at the table.
“ I don’t think he can get away yet,” replied the Duke; “he’s packing to go a long journey...”
“ No,” said Father Brown, quite simply, but suddenly standing up, “for a very short journey. For one of the shortest, in fact. But we may still be in time to catch him if we go there in a motor-cab.”
Nothing more could be got out of him until the cab swept round the corner by the Hotel Saint Louis, where they got out, and he led the party up a side lane already in deep shadow with the growing dusk. Once, when the Duke impat
