“Give me leave, sir,” interrupted Robin. “This letter, Sir Anthony, came into the hands of the late Mr Markham, who thought to sell it to my father at a fabulous price. You take me?”
Sir Anthony nodded. “There’s a ray of daylight,” he said.
“There shall be more. My father held in his possession a letter writ by Sir Humphrey Grayson, containing half-promises to help the Prince’s cause. It does not surprise you?”
“Only that your father should have the letter. The rest I knew.”
“Then there is nothing in the world to surprise you. When you know my father better you will know that he would of course hold the letter.”
“Don’t cry God forfend, sir!” Prudence said on a chuckle. “Spare our filial feelings!”
My lord held up his hand. “My daughter, Sir Anthony must surely realise that it is a privilege to know me.”
Sir Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I wonder if Markham thought so?” he said. “Proceed, Robin. I begin to understand.”
“My father, sir, exchanged letters, and that is all there is to it. He assures me that there were at least a dozen other ways of getting Markham’s paper from him, but this one appeared to him to be the neatest.”
“Of course,” said his lordship. “It needs no explanation. I was able thus to rid myself for ever of my Munich friend, and to present my son to Miss Grayson in the role of a hero. I surpassed myself.” He became aware of Sir Anthony’s wondering gaze upon him, and waved his handkerchief gracefully. “You are spell-bound. I expected it. You can never before have seen my like.”