Sir Anthony was about to burst into speech, but I checked him with a gesture and turned to Gedge.
"It has nothing to do with political opinions," said he.

"It has to do with the death, nearly two years ago, of Miss Althea Fenimore, Sir Anthony's only daughter." Sir Anthony, his face congested, glared at him malevolently.

I started, with a gasp of surprise, and stared at the man who, caressing his beard, looked from one to the other of us with an air of satisfaction.
"Get on," said Sir Anthony.
"You are going to give a civic reception to-day to Colonel Boyce, V.C., aren't you ?" "Yes, I am," snapped Sir Anthony.
"Do you think you ought to do it when I tell you that Colonel Boyce, V.C., murdered Miss Althea Fenimore on the night of the 25th June, two years ago ?" "Yes," said Sir Anthony.

"And do you know why?
Because I know you to be a liar and a scoundrel." I can never describe the awful horror that numbed me to the heart.

For a few moments my body seemed as lifeless as my legs.