Mr. Bathurst smiled. “But I am inclined to linger with your permission, Sir Matthew, for a moment or two longer. I am sure you will do everything in your power to help me. That fact you have already demonstrated. I have heard much of Lady Fullgarney. I take it she accompanied you upon the occasion of the Hunt Ball?”
“Of course. I am not the kind of man to—but I don’t quite see—”
“Ladies have proverbially brighter and keener eyes than we men, Sir Matthew. As we discovered sometimes to our cost. It has just occurred to me that Lady Fullgarney might possibly be able to confirm or even supplement what you have just told me concerning the ball. It would strengthen my case considerably.” He smiled sweetly.
“Very well,” responded Sir Matthew sulkily. “To please you , I will send for her.” He rang the bell. “Ask Lady Fullgarney to come to me, Warren, will you? Tell her that Mr. Anthony Bathurst has arrived and is now with me.”
Anthony embarked upon an adventure of propitiation. “I don’t imagine for a minute, sir, that Lady Fullgarney will really be able to add to the information that you have given me so clearly. I am deeply in your debt, Sir Matthew. But her mere collaboration will be important and most valuable.”
Sir Matthew nodded. “Here she is,” he said.
Anthony bowed to the lady. She in her turn favoured him with a charming smile. Sir Matthew performed the necessary introduction.
“Mr. Bathurst is a friend of the Crown Prince of Clorania,” he added. “I expect you remember him.” He evidently regarded this connection as an additional testimonial. “And he is also investigating the murder of poor Sheila Delaney. He wants to ask you something—he imagines—although he wouldn’t admit as much—that you may be able to help him. He’s an optimist, if he only knew it.” He wheezed hilariously.
Lady Fullgarney smiled indulgently. Then she bowed to Anthony. “What a terrible affair, Mr. Bathurst. Of course we knew poor Sheila Delaney well. Close neighbours and closer friends. What help do you want from me?”
“I’ve been asking Sir Matthew a few facts with regard to the Hunt Ball of last year. You, in company with other beautiful women, were there, Lady Fullgarney, I take it?”
“I was, Mr. Bathurst. Are you Irish, by any chance?” Lady Fullgarney became roguish.
“’Tis my one claim to distinction, your Ladyship. That and perhaps a peculiarly-shaped nose.”
“What about two very fascinating grey eyes?”
Sir Matthew snorted. This was too much!
“You and I apparently must be of the same country, I imagine,” said Anthony. He bowed again. “What I wanted to ask you was this. You met the Crown Prince Alexis at the Hunt Ball?”
“I won’t contradict you, Mr. Bathurst. His Royal Highness held the tips of my fingers for a much longer period than I considered necessary.”
“His Royal Highness has a ‘flair’ for selection, Lady Fullgarney, and I’m certain it was never more happy than at that particular moment.”
“And a ‘flair’ often develops a ‘flame’!”
“Can it be wondered at?” murmured Mr. Bathurst with delicate suggestion. “Surely you will agree with me—you have a mirror—”
Sir Matthew’s snort became a rumble of positive menace. Anthony recognised its significance.
“Can you tell me, then, Lady Fullgarney, if the Crown Prince of Clorania upon that evening of the Hunt Ball, to you knowledge, made the acquaintance of Sheila Delaney?”
“I don’t remember ever seeing them together. But I’ll tell you with whom I do remember seeing him—Daphne Carruthers—Desmond Carruthers’ niece. She danced with him a lot. But she’s a pretty girl, Mr. Bathurst. Matthew’s noticed that—haven’t you, Matthew?”
There was a dangerous coldness in her tone. Lady Fullgarney was turning the matrimonial tables.
“I can believe that,” interjected Mr. Bathurst. “Sir Matthew has, of course, such a high standard of comparison.” He gestured towards the lady. “Indeed I can’t think of a higher.”
“High enough to keep him quiet,” she riposted.
“The quietness of supreme content,” murmured Mr. Bathurst. He reached for his hat and stick. “I am loth to leave, Lady Fullgarney, but when I look at you—discretion dictates my immediate departure.”
“An Irishman with discretion?” queried the lady. “I find the two very difficult to reconcile.”
Chapter XXIII
Mr. Bathurst forgets his change
“Show His Royal Highness in!” said Anthony.
“Very well, sir,” replied Falcon. “In one moment.” He retired feeling very satisfied. He had had no idea that the Mr. Bathurst staying at his hotel was such a distinguished visitor. To number the Crown Prince of Clorania upon his visiting-list argued much and eloquently, for his social standing. Chief Inspector Bannister was something of a different proposition. Falcon was well aware of the Inspector’s very high position at Scotland Yard and had His Royal Highness inquired for the Inspector, it would have occasioned him no surprise whatever. But for Mr. Bathurst—! It was surprising to say the least of it. Surprising but comfortably reassuring. He shewed the Crown Prince into Mr. Bathurst’s room and immediately telephoned the astounding news through to a friend of his—an occupant of the position on the Aldermanic Bench of Westhampton. This, he was fully conscious, was equivalent to getting the B.B.C. to broadcast the news, for the worthy Alderman in question was a prominent member of a Local Mutual Toleration Society. Alexis of Clorania advanced to Anthony—his hand outstretched in greeting. “I have been unable to compose myself, Mr. Bathurst,” he said, “during your absence. I have been strangely worried and uneasy. I had to come. What success have you had?”
Anthony motioned him to be seat. “In what particular direction, Your Highness?”
The Crown Prince jerked back his head. “Either! Both! Have you progressed at all? Are you any nearer to a solution?”
Anthony stopped him with a quick movement of the hand. “I came to Westhampton, Your Highness, to kill, if possible, two birds with one stone.”
“And you have had the success?”
“Not altogether—although I can say that I have strong hopes. Perhaps in the near future—”
The Crown Prince uttered an exclamation of impatient disappointment. “‘Perhaps’ is a word
