“Her Royal Highness, Imogena of Natalia,” murmured Anthony.
Alexis’ doubt vanished like snow under the sun. “Who was the blackmailer?” he demanded truculently.
Anthony hesitated a moment before answering. “Alan Warburton, an old lover of Sheila Delaney—the girl murdered in the dentist’s chair at Seabourne. Can you in any way reconcile the two facts?”
Alexis sprang to his feet excitedly. “I told you—didn’t I? I said find the blackmailer—and you’ll find the murderer.”
“Not so fast, sir, if you please? Think in the first place where you are. What link was there between Sheila Delaney and yourself?”
“None,” replied the Crown Prince. “None whatever—I swear it! That’s the extraordinary part about it.”
“Then why did Alan Warburton attempt to blackmail you?” broke in Anthony.
The Crown Prince spread out his hands. “How do I know? What can I say? It is all conjecture.”
“Yet I think I know,” replied Mr. Bathurst, “and time alone will prove whether I am right or wrong.”
Alexis gave a curious movement of the shoulders. “It is a mystery and I fear it will remain a mystery.”