“What you have just said brings me to another question,” exclaimed Anthony.
“What may that be?”
“Have you ever heard during your association either with the late Colonel Delaney or with his daughter any mention of a very valuable jewel—rejoicing, I believe, under the somewhat fantastic ‘sobriquet’ of the ‘Peacock’s Eye’?”
Sir Matthew Fullgarney sprang to his feet. Anthony Bathurst felt the two steel-blue eyes of his host glaring at him relentlessly. “ ‘The Peacock’s Eye’? What in hell do you know about the ‘Peacock’s Eye’?”
Anthony suffered this rather surprising outburst with complete equanimity. He had always possessed the tactful gift of making allowances.
“Not a lot, Sir Matthew. Very little, in fact. But enough to cause me to come to ask you for more. I have strong reason to believe that Miss Delaney was murdered for possession of the ‘Peacock’s Eye’!”
Sir Matthew bordered upon the apoplectic. “God bless my soul—do you realise what you are saying? How could Sheila Delaney have had the ‘Peacock’s Eye’ in her possession? It’s too ridiculous for words, sir! What the——?” Sir Matthew fumed into aggressive speechlessness.
“Not so ridiculous as it may appear upon the surface, Sir Matthew. Please listen to what I have to say.” He waved the Lord Lieutenant of Westhamptonshire to a seat again, for Mr. Bathurst had a way with him. Sir Matthew obeyed the gesture but glowered at Mr. Bathurst as though his suggestion had been completely unspeakable. Anthony took up his recital again. “According to the evidence of Mr. E. Kingsley Stark, the present manager of the Westhampton branch of the Mutual Bank, Miss Delaney took the stone known as the ‘Peacock’s Eye’ out of the custody of the bank on the morning of the day upon which she met her death. There is therefore very good reason to believe that it travelled with her to Seabourne. And very certainly it was not in her possession when she was found dead in the dentist’s chair at Seabourne. A remarkable chain of events, Sir Matthew, don’t you think?” Anthony watched him warily. But Sir Matthew remained as he was—to all appearances bereft of the power of speech. “Having told you so much of what I know I want you to tell me more in return. Am I right in thinking that it lies in your power to give me the true history of the ‘Peacock’s Eye’?” His voice contained a note of quiet insistence.
The man addressed rose from his chair and paced the room—it might be said belligerently. The situation as it had developed was novel for him. He came to a decision suddenly. Taking a letter from his pocket he referred to it in such a way that Anthony was irresistibly reminded of a huge bird of prey.
“You state here, Mr. Bathurst”—he tapped the letter aggressively with his bony forefinger—“that you are representing the Crown Prince Alexis of Clorania in a matter of paramount delicacy.” Anthony bowed. “I don’t quite see then how the devil that fact touches the ‘Seabourne Mystery,’ and the death of Sheila Delaney—what has the one to do with the other—tell me that?” He made his demand with all his old fierceness.