Warburton’s face twisted into a sneering laugh. “I knew he’d been meeting her,” he declared. “That was good enough for me to work on.”
“Good enough for blackmail? A dirty word and a dirty trade! However did you imagine you would be able to keep the strings pulled tightly enough when you knew absolutely nothing—when you were groping in the dark? You must be mad.”
“I knew he was meeting Sheila Delaney and a word of that in his future bride’s ear would have cooked his goose all right, don’t you worry. At any rate I frightened the swine. I put the fear of God in his carcass sufficiently for him to call you into the case.”
“You’ll cut a sorry figure in the dock, Warburton, and you’ll get a stiff sentence—you won’t have a leg to stand on.”
“I’ll stand in no dock,” sneered Warburton. “And what is more, you know it! I can see dear Alexis cutting almost as sorry a figure as I should—and a bit sorrier—— Prosecute?” He laughed with an almost affected bitterness. “He’ll never prosecute me—he hasn’t got half the pluck.”
Anthony folded up the letters preparatory to putting the bundle away in his breast pocket. “I’m going,” he announced. “What the Crown Prince decides to do is entirely his own affair. I can promise you that. I shall refrain from advising him either way. In some circumstances, I might feel sorry for you. Good morning.”
Warburton sat sullenly in his chair and made no reply. Anthony stopped on the threshold. “By the way,” he declared, “you might oblige me in one little matter, will you? I want the address of an important gentleman of these parts. I have no doubt you can give it to me—Sir Matthew Fullgarney.”
Warburton stared wonderingly. “Dovaston Court.” He gave the information with surliness. “Two miles out of Westhampton on the Bedford Road.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Bathurst. He closed the door gently behind him.