“The Cassandra.”
“Your Highness still desires to keep the identity of the lady a secret?”
“I have no option.”
“Very well,” said Anthony. “Leave these letters with me and I will do my best for you. Firstly, however, will you permit me to make a suggestion?”
“Yes, certainly!”
“Set a trap for your unknown correspondent. Lure him into it—then leave him to the tender mercies of Scotland Yard.”
The Crown Prince shook his head. “I’ve thought of that, but I fear the consequences. Some of the story would be certain to become public. I cannot afford it to. I must avoid that at all costs.”
“Pay the sum demanded, then,” ventured Anthony.
“Fifty thousand pounds?” exclaimed his client in amazement, anger conflicting with incredulity in his voice. “You must be unaware of my very limited resources. Comparatively speaking, Mr. Bathurst, I am a poor man.”
“You will give me ‘carte blanche’ naturally?” said Anthony.