Sir Timothy drew a letter from his pocket, opened it and adjusted his eyeglass.
“Here we are,” he said. “After leaving my dinner-party tonight, I called at the club and found this note. Quite an inviting little affair, you see young lady's writing, faint but very delicate perfume, excellent stationery, Milan Court—the home of adventures!”
“DEAR SIR TIMOTHY BRAST:
“Although I am not known to you personally, there is a
certain matter concerning which information has come into my possession,
which I should like to discuss with you. Will you call and see me as
soon as possible?” Sincerely yours,
“DAISY HYSLOP.”
“On receipt of this note,” Sir Timothy continued, folding it up, “I telephoned to the young lady and as I was fortunate enough to find her at home I asked her to come here. I then took the liberty of introducing myself to Mr. Shopland, whose interest in my evening has been unvarying, and whose uninvited company I have been compelled to bear with, and suggested that, as I was on my way back to Curzon Street, he had better come in and have a drink and tell me what it was all about. I arranged that he should find Miss Hyslop here, and for a person of observation, which I flatter myself to be, it was easy to discover the interesting fact that Mr. Shopland and Miss Daisy Hyslop were not strangers.
“Now tell me, young lady,” Sir Timothy went on. “You see, I have placed myself entirely in your hands. Never mind the presence of these two gentlemen. Tell me exactly what you wanted to say to me?”
“The matter is of no great importance,” Miss Hyslop declared, “in any case I should not discuss it before these two gentlemen.”
“Don't go for a moment, please,” Sir Timothy begged, as she showed signs of departure. “Listen. I want to make a suggestion to you. There is an impression abroad that I was interested in the two young men, Victor Bidlake and Fairfax, and that I knew something of their quarrel. You were an intimate friend of young Bidlake's and presumably in his confidence. It occurs to me, therefore, that Mr. Shopland might very well have visited you in search of information, linking me up with that unfortunate affair. Hence your little note to me.”
Miss Hyslop rose to her feet. She had the appearance of being very angry indeed.
“Do you mean to insinuate—” she began.
“Madam, I insinuate nothing,” Sir Timothy interrupted sternly. “I only desire to suggest this. You are a young lady whose manner of living, I gather, is to a certain extent precarious. It must have seemed to you a likelier source of profit to withhold any information you might have to give at the solicitation of a rich man, than to give it free gratis and for nothing to a detective. Now am I right?”