“Caramba! Does he say so? But that is foolishness!”
“No, it is theory,” said Leighton drily.
“How will he prove it?”
“By finding Meudon.”
There was a finality in the tone of Leighton’s rejoinder which, more than the words themselves, indicated the seeker’s conviction that the road to David’s discovery was in plain view. Raoul Arthur, however, said nothing. Standing aloof from his two visitors, apparently not heeding them, his silence aroused Leighton’s curiosity.
“Naturally, I depend on you, Arthur,” said the old man, with an emphasis that sounded like a threat.
“I don’t know why,” he demurred. “David was with your party when this happened. I failed to find him three years ago, you know.”
“There is no proof that you did anything then to rescue the man who was your friend and business partner,” retorted Leighton. “This time failure might be fatal—for you.”
The words and Leighton’s manner had their effect. Shaking off his real, or assumed, apathy, Raoul faced his accuser angrily.