“I suppose you left no room for doubt as to my identity in the mind of the lady to whom you spoke over the telephone last night?” he inquired.
“None whatever, my lord. She wormed it out of me.”
“Did you mention the Earl?”
“Like an ijjit, I began by giving his lordship’s name. It was my only chanst, I couldn’t get to the post-office nohow. Why, I was ordered to bed at eight o’clock, so’s his lordship could smoke in peace, as he said.”
“Then my father was determined to stop you from communicating with me, if possible?”
“If his lordship knew that I crep’ down a back stairs to the telephone I do believe he’d have set about me with a poker,” said Dale grimly.
“Strange!” mused Medenham, with eyes now more intent on the hotel than on the road. “Influences other than Aunt Susan’s must be at work. My father would never have rushed off in a fever from town merely because of some ill-natured gossip in a letter from Lady Porthcawl.”
His mind flew to the Earl’s allusions to Marigny, and it occurred to him then that the latter had used his father’s name at Bristol. He turned to Dale again.
“Before this business is ended I shall probably find it necessary to kick a Frenchman,” he said.
“Make it two of ’em, my lord, an’ let me take it out of the other one,” growled Dale.