"But there's another tiresome question involved—that of the letter of the impetuous Sovereign whose facility with the pen has already led him into such regrettable complications," drawled Meavy languidly. "The halfpenny papers make great capital out of that."
"But that letter wasn't written to Farquharson, but to Gaunt," said Creagh impatiently. "What has Farquharson to do with it?"
"He sent me a copy, unluckily," said Farquharson. "You needn't worry about that. It has never left my possession for a single instant. Personally, I should have torn it up, but our respected colleague thought it wise to keep a copy lest anything untoward should happen to the original."
"You've got it locked up in there, I suppose?" said Beadon, pointing to the safe. "Well, that's right, particularly as you always lock up this room now when you leave the house."
"The fact remains," said Meavy, "that no man of our time has ever been so fiercely abused as you by the Press I speak as one who knows, having had my share of it. I believe you've got a very dangerous enemy to deal with—the more dangerous because unknown. I think somebody has been stirring up the Press against you personally. Did you see that scurrilous article in the Crystal last week? It almost said in plain words that you were not to be trusted. You see, one or two minor points have leaked out lately that had no business to have got published at all, and, unfortunately, they have been matters which concerned your department."
Beadon shook his head.
"Farquharson scoffs at all that; it is immaterial, though puzzling. Personally, I think they point the way to treachery, and in such cases"—he spoke very gravely—"one's enemies are usually those of one's own household. Farquharson has a large retinue of employés—I believe that one of them has been bought."
"Impossible, my dear fellow," said Farquharson impatiently. "Your imagination runs away with you. The members of my household are kept very strictly in their own places, and I have every confidence in my secretaries. As far as the actual fight goes—well—it doesn't bother me. Remember, I was never at a public school; I had to wait to see red until I was a man."
Creagh frowned.
"I agree with Meavy. You don't take things seriously enough, Farquharson. You men of one idea, who go straight to the point and disregard all obstacles, are the very ones who trip over a mere stone in the path."