"If!" echoed Sir Stephen, laughing and nodding. Stafford could see by the brilliance of his eyes, the flush on his face, that he was excited and was struggling with excitement. "If!"
Falconer nodded at the despatch-case, and, with another bantering laugh, Sir Stephen opened it and took out a large envelope. He held this for a moment poised between finger and thumb, then he tore it open and took out a sheet of paper, and turned his flashing eyes from the two men to the document.
He rose for a moment with the smile still on his face; then they saw it fade, saw the flush slowly disappear, and in its place a dull grey steal over the face.
Stafford, startled, went round to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"What is the matter, sir?" he asked. "Bad news?"
Sir Stephen looked at him as if he did not see him, then turned his eyes upon Falconer, who stood regarding him with a fixed, sardonic gaze.
"Hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy?" came at last from Sir Stephen's white lips.
Stafford looked from one to the other.
"What—what on earth is the matter? What do you mean?" he said.
Sir Stephen raised his hand and pointed to Ralph Falconer.