Gallant Mr. Bathurst
He rose. Sir Matthew Fullgarney’s face was a strange mixture of
mystification and inclination towards asperity.
“Really,” he volunteered with a stiff pomposity. “I don’t quite
understand——”
Mr. Bathurst smiled. “But I am inclined to linger with your
permission, Sir Matthew, for a moment or two longer. I am sure you
will do everything in your power to help me. That fact you have
already demonstrated. I have heard much of Lady Fullgarney. I take it
she accompanied you upon the occasion of the Hunt Ball?”
“Of course. I am not the kind of man to—but I don’t quite see——”
“Ladies have proverbially brighter and keener eyes than we men, Sir
Matthew. As we discover sometimes to our cost. It has just occurred to
me that Lady Fullgarney might possibly be able to confirm or even
supplement what you have just told me concerning the ball. It would
strengthen my case considerably.” He smiled sweetly.
“Very well,” responded Sir Matthew sulkily. “To please you, I will
send for her.” He rang the bell. “Ask Lady Fullgarney to come to me,
Warren, will you? Tell her that Mr. Anthony Bathurst has arrived and
is now with me.”
Anthony embarked upon an adventure of propitiation. “I don’t imagine
for a minute, sir, that Lady Fullgarney will really be able to add to
the information that you have given me so clearly. I am deeply in your
debt, Sir Matthew. But her mere corroboration will be important and
most valuable.”
Sir Matthew nodded. “Here she is,” he said.
Anthony bowed to the lady. She in her turn favoured him with a
charming smile. Sir Matthew performed the necessary introduction.
“Mr. Bathurst is a friend of the Crown Prince of Clorania,” he added.
“I expect you remember him.” He evidently regarded this connection
as an additional testimonial. “And he is also investigating the
murder of poor Sheila Delaney. He wants to ask you something—he
imagines—although he wouldn’t admit as much—that you may be able to
help him. He’s an optimist, if he only knew it.” He wheezed
hilariously.
Lady Fullgarney smiled indulgently. Then she bowed to Anthony. “What a
terrible affair, Mr. Bathurst. Of course we knew poor Sheila Delaney
well. Close neighbours and closer friends. What help do you want from
me?”
“I’ve been asking Sir Matthew a few facts with regard to the Hunt Ball
of last year. You, in company with other beautiful women, were there,
Lady Fullgarney, I take it?”
“I was, Mr. Bathurst. Are you Irish, by any chance?” Lady Fullgarney
became roguish.
“’Tis my one claim to distinction, your Ladyship. That and perhaps a
peculiarly-shaped nose.”
“What about two very fascinating grey eyes?”
Sir Matthew snorted. This was too much!
“You and I apparently must be of the same country, I imagine,” said
Anthony. He bowed again. “What I wanted to ask you was this. You met
the Crown Prince Alexis at the Hunt Ball?”
“I won’t contradict you, Mr. Bathurst. His Royal Highness held the
tips of my fingers for a much longer period than I considered
necessary.”
“His Royal Highness has a ‘flair’ for selection, Lady Fullgarney, and
I’m certain it was never more happy than at that particular moment.”
“And a ‘flair’ often develops a ‘flame’!”
“Can it be wondered at?” murmured Mr. Bathurst with delicate
suggestion. “Surely you will agree with me—you have a mirror——”
Sir Matthew’s snort became a rumble of positive menace. Anthony
recognised its significance.
“Can you tell me, then, Lady Fullgarney, if the Crown Prince of
Clorania upon that evening of the Hunt Ball, to your knowledge, made
the acquaintance of Sheila Delaney?”
“I don’t remember ever seeing them together. But I’ll tell you with
whom I _do_ remember seeing him—Daphne Carruthers—Desmond Carruthers’
niece. She danced with him a lot. But she’s a pretty girl, Mr.
Bathurst. Matthew’s noticed that—haven’t you, Matthew?”
There was a dangerous coldness in her tone. Lady Fullgarney was
turning the matrimonial tables.
“I can believe that,” interjected Mr. Bathurst. “Sir Matthew has, of
course, such a high standard of comparison.” He gestured towards the
lady. “Indeed I can’t think of a higher.”
“High enough to keep him quiet,” she riposted.
“The quietness of supreme content,” murmured Mr. Bathurst. He reached
for his hat and stick. “I am loth to leave, Lady Fullgarney, but when
I look at you—discretion dictates my immediate departure.”
“An Irishman with discretion?” queried the lady. “I find the two very
difficult to reconcile.”