THE WISDOM OF FATHER BROWN
"My name is Brown," was the reply. "And I advise you just now to leave the country."
The prize-fighter stood glaring for a few seconds, and then, rather to the surprise of Flambeau and the others, strode out, sending the door to with a crash behind him.
"Well," asked Father Brown, rubbing his dusty hair up, "what do you think of Leonardo da Vinci? A beautiful Italian head."
"Look here," said Lord Pooley, "I've taken a considerable responsibility on your bare word. I think you ought to tell me more about this."
"You are quite right, my lord," answered Brown. "And it won't take long to tell." He put the little leather book in his overcoat pocket. "I think we know all that this can tell us, but you shall look at it to see if I'm right. That negro who has just swaggered out is one of the most dangerous men on earth, for he has the brains of a European, with the instincts of a cannibal. He has turned what was clean, common-sense butchery among his fellow-barbarians into a very modern and scientific secret society of assassins. He doesn't know I know it, nor, for the matter of that, that I can't prove it."
There was a silence, and the little man went on:
"But if I want to murder somebody, will it really be the best plan to make sure I'm alone with him?"
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