"No!" retorted Despard. "If these old women of Commissioners have no more sense than to direct you to keep important books in a simple bookcase in your quarters—"
"Oh, the book?" interrupted Aylmer, placidly. "Of course, there's the book."
Despard halted, hesitated, and looked at his friend with curiosity.
"You mean the contents of it? You can't help them getting known?"
Aylmer nodded.
"We must recognize the fact that they are known by whoever buys them, or whoever hired Landon to steal them."
"Then why worry; why pursue, why start on this wild-goose chase?" He pointed to the great bruise on Aylmer's forehead. "It's outrageous, with that on you. It's probably dangerous."
For a moment Aylmer was silent. He stood looking at Despard, and his eyes seemed to express a sort of speculative criticism.
"Landon is my cousin," he said at last, as if he put the keystone to an argumentative arch.
"What of it?"