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"Is Sir Timothy Brast your man?" Francis asked quietly. His companion frowned portentously. "No names," he begged. "Considering that it was I who first put you on to him," Francis expostulated, "I don't think you need be so sparing of your confidence." "Mr. Ledsam," the detective assured him, "I shall tell you everything that is possible. At the same time, I will be frank with you.
This, I suppose, is my reward an invitation to something in the nature of a State dinner, which, to tell you the truth, I had forgotten until my secretary pointed it out to me this afternoon. I have grave fears of being bored or of misbehaving myself. I have, as Ledsam here knows, a distressing habit of truthfulness, especially to new acquaintances. However, we must hope for the best.
The room was well-ventilated but Andrew Wilmore felt suddenly hot and choking. A woman, one of the little group of newcomers, glanced towards Francis curiously. "Francis Ledsam, the criminal barrister," her companion whispered, "the man who got Oliver Hilditch off. The man with him is Andrew Wilmore, the novelist. Discussing a case, I expect."
"I think you are wise to run up to town this morning," he said, glancing up at the grey skies. "By-the-bye, if you dine at Curzon Street to-night, do ask Hedges to serve you some of the '99 Cliquot. A marvellous wine, as you doubtless know, Ledsam, but it should be drunk. Au revoir!"
It seems, however, that she was anxious to get to a ball which was being given down in Kensington." "There was a ball, was there?" Francis asked. "Without a doubt," the detective replied. "It was given by a Miss Clara Bultiwell. She happens to remember urging Miss Hyslop to come on as early as possible." "So that's that," Francis observed. "Just so, Mr. Ledsam," the detective murmured.
"I still don't see where Ledsam's worry comes in," the legal luminary remarked. "The fact that the man was guilty is rather a feather in the cap of his counsel. Shows how jolly good his pleading must have been." "Just so," Wilmore agreed, "but Ledsam, as you know, is a very conscientious sort of fellow, and very sensitive, too. The whole thing was a shock to him."
"Do you mean to affirm solemnly that what you have been telling me is the truth?" The woman continued to button her gloves. "It is the truth," she said. Ledsam sat up and looked around him. He was a little dazed. He had almost the feeling of a man recovering from the influence of some anaesthetic.
Any invitation which Margaret extends, Ledsam, please consider as confirmed by me." He closed the door softly. They heard his footsteps descending the stairs. Francis leaned once more over Margaret. She seemed still dazed, confused with new thoughts. She responded, however, readily to his touch, yielded to his caress with an almost pathetic eagerness.
Francis Ledsam was several moments before he replied. The question was one which he had been expecting, one which he had already asked himself many times, yet he was unprepared with any definite reply. "I wish I could answer you, Andrew," his friend confessed. "As a matter of fact, I can't.
"Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Ledsam?" The barrister frowned slightly as he swung around to confront his questioner. It was such a familiar form of address. "What do you want?" he asked, a little curtly. "A few minutes' conversation with you," was the calm reply. "The matter is important." The woman's tone and manner, notwithstanding her plain, inconspicuous clothes, commanded attention.
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