Alistair turned on him a lack-lustre eye.
“If you are asking me as Secretary of State, perhaps not.”
The Home Secretary fidgeted with the papers on the writing-table in front of him. It was a favourite trick of his when he was embarrassed. Indeed, he generally kept a pile of papers in front of him on purpose. A little consideration told him that it was not worth while to try to bluff Alistair.
“Well, no, I’m not.”
“You have arrested me, haven’t you?” The prisoner made his point quietly, as though moved by a quite impersonal curiosity.
“Yes.” The Duke hesitated again, and again decided that the bluffing policy would be too risky. “Since I signed the warrant, I’ve seen the Prime Minister. I tendered him my resignation, of course.”
Alistair began to look ever so little interested.
“I never thought you would do that,” he confessed.
“I don’t suppose you thought anything about it, one way or the other,” Trent retorted, with some bitterness. “You never do think of me—or your mother—do you?”
The prisoner straightened himself up for an instant.