The other two looked at him debatingly.
"The law?" mused Aylmer. "The law?"
"They have already had experience of it in Italy and Spain—the Van Arlens. A man like Landon can make use of it there to further his own purposes, against the law. The Spanish and Italian police? Can you expect them to interfere against a man's dealings with his own child? What do they know of the fiats of the British Courts of Chancery? He made two very nearly successful attempts to get possession of the boy,—one at San Remo, one at Taormina."
Aylmer gave a little low whistle of comprehension. Rattier nodded, still with a sort of grudging admiration of this English lord's talents and persistence.
"Have you got it now?" went on Despard. "Do you see where they stand? Here, under the protections of the Bashaw, where Landon can never overbid them, they enjoy a security which they can obtain nowhere else outside America or Great Britain."
Aylmer's eyes filled with a sudden shadow of loathing.
"The scoundrel!" he cried. "The miscreant!"
Despard nodded.
"Quite so," he agreed. "The epithets any decent-minded man would apply to him. Unfortunately, he is without shame, reckless, and heedless of everything but his passionate desire to turn defeat into victory. He will stop at nothing to get even with those who have so far triumphed over him."
"And the boy's mother lives here—with her sister?" said Aylmer.