"Thank you very much for your offer, Mr. Pope," said the viscount, striding stoutly up to him, "but I have considered it, and I have taken a—a—a fancy for the book and decided not to sell."
"Sorry and all that," put in Lord Peter, "but my nephew's adamant about it. No, it isn't the price; he wants the book. Wish I could oblige you, but it isn't in my hands. Won't you take something else before you go? Really? Ring the bell, Gherkins. My man will see you to the lift. Good evening."
When the visitor had gone, Lord Peter returned and thoughtfully picked up the book.
"We were awful idiots to leave him with it, Gherkins, even for a moment. Luckily, there's no harm done."
"You don't think he found out anything while we were away, do you, uncle?" gasped Gherkins, open-eyed.
"I'm sure he didn't."
"Why?"
"He offered me fifty pounds for it on the way to the door. Gave the game away. H'm! Bunter."
"My lord?"
"Put this book in the safe and bring me back the keys. And you'd better set all the burglar alarms when you lock up."