Ten minutes later Landon was enjoying his drink in Mr. Miller's pleasantly furnished apartments. His host had supplied it this time without any demur—with alacrity. He watched his guest dispose of it and hastened to offer another. This, too, disappeared down Landon's throat and a third was placed solicitously at his elbow. Not till these arrangements had been completed did Mr. Miller smirch his hospitality with any hint of business. But though he differed from Aylmer in this, he imitated him in the directness of his pour-parlers. He, indeed, used the same monosyllable.
"Well?" he said inquiringly.
Landon nodded with much satisfaction.
"I got in," he said briefly. "I was only there two minutes, at a liberal computation, but I've found out and done all I required. He's dining out to-night. The books, as you expected, are in an ordinary bookcase, glass fronted, with an ordinary padlock on it. What fools these War Office experts are! There was a spare latch-key of his rooms hanging on a hook on the wall, for the servant, I suppose. I nicked it as I went out. I met the servant on the stairs—just as well, if I run across him to-night. There will be nothing rummy in my returning to see his master. I purposely dragged my coat against the passage whitewash, and after he offered to brush it for me I gave him half a crown. So he's all right; he thinks I'm a worthy gentleman who ought to be encouraged to call often. Is that all right?"
Mr. Miller smiled.
"You show such talents and attention to detail, my dear Lord Landon," he answered, "that I grieve that I am not the happy partner of such a colleague permanently."
Landon looked across at him with a grin.
"Seriously?" he demanded.
"Quite seriously," replied the impassive Mr. Miller.
Landon meditated.