THE WISDOM OF FATHER BROWN
But this thing's elaborately simple, like a penny dreadful: 'In the purple grotto you will find the golden casket.' It looks as if ... as if it were meant to be seen through at once."
Almost before they could take it in a short figure in French uniform had walked up to their table like the wind, and sat down with a sort of thump.
"I have extraordinary news," said the Duc de Valognes. "I have just come from this Colonel of ours. He is packing up to leave the country, and he asks us to make his excuses sur le terrain."
"What?" cried Flambeau, with an incredulity quite frightful—"apologise?"
"Yes," said the Duke gruffly, "then and there—before everybody—when the swords are drawn. And you and I have to do it while he is leaving the country."
"But what can this mean?" cried Flambeau. "He can't be afraid of that little Hirsch! Confound it!" he cried, in a kind of rational rage, "nobody could be afraid of Hirsch!"
"I believe it's some plot!" snapped Valognes,—"some plot of the Jews and freemasons. It's meant to work up glory for Hirsch . . ."
The face of Father Brown was commonplace, but curiously contented; it could shine with ignorance as well as with knowledge. But there was
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