When he left that house he was going straight to two officers of the law whose bounden duty it would become to call upon Mr. Forbes for a full and true explanation of his visit to Mrs. Lester—­ provided, that is, he (Theydon) told them what he knew.  Talk about a death’s-head grinning at a feast!  At that bright dinner-table he was a prey to keener emotion than ever shook a Borgia entertaining one whom he meant to poison.

In sheer self-defense he talked with an animation he seldom displayed.  Evelyn was evidently much taken by him, and, fired by her manifest interest, he indulged in fantastic paradox and wild flights of fancy.  Seemingly his exuberance stimulated Forbes, himself a well-informed and epigrammatic talker.

An hour sped all too soon.  The girl rose with a sigh.

“It’s too bad that I should have to go,” she said.  “I shall be bored stiff at Lady de Winton’s.  But I can’t get out of it except by telling a positive fib over the telephone.  Dad, next time you ask Mr. Theydon to dinner, please let me know in good time, and neither of you will be rid of me so easily.”

She shook hands with Theydon.  While she was giving her father a parting kiss the guest moved to the door and held it open.  As she passed out she smiled and her eyes said plainly: 

“I like you.  Come again soon.”

Then she was gone and the pleasant room lost some of its glow and color.

“Don’t sit down again, Theydon,” said Forbes, rising.  “We’ll have coffee brought to my den.  What is your favorite liqueur—­ or shall we tell Tomlinson to send along that decanter of port?  It’s a first-rate wine.  Another glass won’t hurt you, or me, for that matter.”

Theydon had hardly dared to touch the champagne supplied during the meal.  Abstemious at all times, because he found that wine or spirits interfered with his capacity for work, he felt that a clear head and steady nerves were called for that night more than any other night in his life.  Following the lead given by his host, therefore, he elected for the port.

“You are right, too,” said Forbes.  “You remember Dr. Johnson’s dictum:  ’Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy’?  Tonight, not aspiring to the heroic, we’ll stick to port.”

“It is a curious fact that on my return from Brooklands today I took a glass of brandy,” confessed Theydon.  “I seldom, if ever, drink any intoxicant before dining, but I needed a stimulant of a sort, and some unknown tissue in me cried aloud for brandy.”

He hoped vaguely that the comment would lead to something more explicit, and thus bring him, without undue emphasis, so to speak, to the one topic on which he was now resolved to obtain a decisive statement from the man chiefly concerned before he faced the representatives of Scotland Yard.

But Forbes, motioning to an easy chair in a well-appointed library, and flinging himself into another, gave heed only to the one word—­ Brooklands.