Madeline felt her heart beating rapidly. She had resolved on a bold stroke. Nothing less than a frontal attack. No flank movement would do in the present case. She would have to stagger him with the first blow.
"You are Timothy Polgarrow?" she questioned, looking down from her exalted position.
"Yes, miss, that's my name, at your service," he answered, glibly and flippantly.
"I'm glad I've met you," she said, quietly.
"Yes?" And he looked up with a light of surprise in his eyes.
"I want to ask you a question."
"A dozen, if you like, miss. I'm always ready to oblige a lady."
"Then you will tell me how much money Captain Tregony paid you to swear that Rufus Sterne was drunk?"
Had Madeline fired a revolver at him he could not have been more startled. He dropped the bucket, which fell with a rattle on the cobbles, and his freckled face grew ashen.