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Falconer would like to know if you will see him, my lord?" A frown crossed Stafford's pale face at the "my lord." It sounded strange and mockingly in his ears. "I will come at once," he said. "Come with me, Howard."
He reached out his hand for the letter, but his confused senses were suddenly arrested by the look in Ian Stafford's face, a look so strange, so poignant, so insistent, that he paused. Words could not have checked his blind haste like that look.
The King, notwithstanding his apparent reluctance, had, in Sir Edward Stafford's language, "nibbled at the bait." He had, however, not been secured at the first attempt, and now a second effort was to be made, under what were supposed to be most favourable circumstances.
In the part of Gray's Inn Road to the north of Clerkenwell Road formerly stood Stafford's Almshouses, founded in 1652. At present Rosebery Avenue, driven through slumland, justifies its pleasant-sounding name, being a wide, sweeping, tree-lined road. Workmen's model dwellings rise on either side. The northern part of Gray's Inn Road falls within the parish of St. Pancras.
Lord Stafford's retainers were drawn up on either side of the base court ready to shout a welcome so soon as the queen appeared. At the top of the stairs leading to the terrace stood Francis arrayed in doublet and hose of purple velvet. A short cloak of the material hung gracefully from her shoulders. A purple velvet bonnet with a long white feather crowned her head.
"Most certainly I did," he stammered. He stopped for a moment as if trying to recollect and then went on: "I meant everything I said but I don't quite remember what it was." Virginia shrugged her shoulders. Caustically she said: "Part of it was a car which you promised to send to-day as a present for my little niece." Stafford's face brightened.
She led the way into the drawing-room and he followed her eagerly. Whether it was the sight of her charm and youth, or the warm greeting which he had read in her eyes, or the satisfied calm on Stafford's face, Travers himself could not have told, but in that moment he lost his usual self-possession.
You're even writin' the real names an' tellin' how Stafford's stray-man butted in an' beat me shootin'. You knowin' this shows that him an' you has been travelin' pretty close together." For an instant Miss Radford forgot her anger. Her eyes snapped with a sudden interest. "Were you the man who hit the can five times?" she questioned, unable to conceal her eagerness.
He had worked the international press as well as it had ever been worked; he had distilled poison here and rosewater there; he had again and again baffled the British Foreign Office, again and again cut the ground from under Ian Stafford's feet; and if he could have staved off the pact, the secret international pact, by one more day, he would have gained the victory for himself, for his country, for the alliance behind him.
Biddulph Stafford's whole soul was set on making money, and he had been heard to express his satisfaction when war broke out, as Harry was in the navy, that the enemy's shot might give him possession of the estate and title.
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