“We had very little to do. As soon as the manifesto was found I guessed whom it came from, and sent a couple of detectives round to the Count’s house, where they seized the papers of the Guild. That seems to have frightened them, and within an hour or two more than half of the committee were round with us volunteering information, and anxious to be accepted as King’s evidence in case of a prosecution.”
The Duke raised his eyes to the Commissioner’s face.
“The King does not want a prosecution. He prefers that the whole thing should be hushed up. All we have to do is to give these fools a good fright, so that they will think twice before repeating their exploit. What are their names?”
“The first men who came to us were two brothers named Vane, who had undertaken to post up copies of the Assertion themselves, but thought better of it—they brought the copies with them to prove their innocence. Afterwards there was an Irishman who calls himself St. Maur, but whose real name is Maher, and Basil Dyke, the novelist. Dyke seems to have protested the whole thing from the first, and resigned from the Guild in consequence. I don’t think any of the four are likely to give any more trouble.”
“Who else is there?”
The Commissioner of Police discreetly turned his head.
“The only others are the Comte des Louvres, the Hon. Gerald St. John, and—Lord Alistair Stuart.”
Lord Alistair’s brother clenched the hand that rested on the desk in front of him.
“Yes; that is what I expected.” He paused for a moment or two, frowning and fidgeting in his chair. “Who put up this wretched thing?”
“According to the Vanes, Lord Alistair must have posted the one on the Palace. The other two were each to put up one somewhere else, but I believe Mr. St. John was the only one who actually did.”