"No," Speed explained, "nothing. I saw Lady Dashwood last night. She treated me just in the same way as usual, which is all the more strange if she knows who I really am."
"I don't suppose for a moment that she knows who you really are," Mayfield said. "She may know who you are not--and that's her grandson. But if Darnley was out of the way things would be quite different. Nobody would worry you any longer. How did you manage to get him to come and dine here tonight?"
"The thing worked out easily enough. I simply asked him and he said yes. He hesitated just for a moment, and then he smiled in a queer kind of way. But one thing you may be sure of--he would not have come had he known that he was going to meet you."
"Perhaps not," Mayfield grinned. "Shall we dine here tonight?"
The question was put so abruptly that Speed started. He could see that something evil was brooding in the mind of his companion. Mayfield's eyes were taking in the arrangements of the room as a general might survey a field of battle. There were three long windows in the room, leading to a kind of balcony outside. In front of one of the windows was a double screen in carved oak, which shielded the window and made it into a kind of alcove. Mayfield noted all this with grim satisfaction, for a smile played about the corners of his hard mouth.
"I asked you if we dined here tonight?" he said again.
"Oh, yes. Why not? We generally dine here--it is so much more pleasant a room than the big dining hall. Why do you ask?"
"We will come to that presently," Mayfield replied. "I take it that those windows open to the terrace outside. Is there a seat behind that screen? I mean a seat that one could lounge in."
"A big armchair," Speed whispered. "What are you driving at?"