Part 12 (2/2)

A grayness stirred in the shadow below the window. There was a whispered reply.

”Right!” answered Miller's voice laconically, and Landon poised the book in mid-air.

”Can you see it?” he asked, still below his breath. There was an affirmative grunt from below.

The book left Landon's hand and fell through the night. There was a faint shock as it reached the waiting grip in the darkness.

Landon quietly and methodically shut the window and turned to the desk.

He leaned, pen in hand, over the note-paper.

There was the click of a latch-key. He swung round to confront his cousin.

For a second the two eyed each other in silence. Then Landon rose slowly to his feet.

”I came, forgetting that you were dining out,” he said. ”I came because I reasoned that by now ... you would be wanting ... to offer me an apology.”

Aylmer looked at the desk. Landon followed the glance.

”I was going to explain--why?” he added, pointing at the unsullied note-paper.

And then Alymer's gaze, which had been concentrated on his cousin's face, slipped past it and found, by chance, the bookcase.

His brows met in a puzzled frown; he made a step forward; he bent to examine the fractured padlock. Then he straightened himself and gave an exclamation.

Landon was ready. He drew a revolver from his pocket; he held it by the muzzle. And the b.u.t.t came down with business-like vigor on Aylmer's temple. He seemed to crumple up rather than fall. He slid against the bookcase to the floor.

The dawn was breaking before, confusedly, achingly, consciousness wavered back to him again--the same dawn which saw a Spanish steamer drop anchor in Tangier's roads and Landon, with a satisfied smile, swing down the ladder into the boat which was to take him ash.o.r.e.

CHAPTER VII

VILLA EULALIA

Aylmer looked up as Despard came into the room. A kit bag lay on the floor half full and Aylmer's man was packing it. Despard raised his eyebrows in surprise.

”Going?” he asked quickly. ”Where?”

”Tangier,” said Aylmer. ”To-night, by the Forwood boat.”

Despard gave a little whistle.

”And the Commission?” he objected.

”I've had very special luck there,” explained Aylmer. ”Sir Arthur went down with influenza yesterday morning. So the Commission, instead of meeting this week as proposed, adjourns till the end of November.”

He leaned down, gave a searching glance into the bag, and closed it.

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