"No," said Aylmer, quietly, "though I grant your provocation has been ample. Let me tell you this. If there are any men breathing whose loathing of your son-in-law can equal your own, it is those who are tainted with his name. In the name of my kinsmen, a name all reputable till Landon smirched it, I tender you their sympathy and regret."
For a long instant the gray eyes beneath the grayer eyebrows searched Aylmer's face. Doubt, perplexity, and then finally a thrill of obvious relief passed across the waxen face. Aylmer's hand was taken; he was gently propelled towards a chair.
"I have suffered much; can I be forgiven?" said the old man wearily. "Can you make my excuses valid to yourself?"
"They were written, and the shame of our family with them, all too large in the press of two hemispheres," said Aylmer. "God knows I am not here to-day to bring anything more than such little reparation as is within my power."
"Reparation?" Van Arlen's tone was more than surprised; it was startled.
Aylmer nodded.
"I came to give you information of Landon's whereabouts. He is here in Tangier, Mr. Van Arlen. I came to put you on your guard, and at the same time to offer you my assistance."
Quickly, accurately, and in as few words as possible he outlined the events of the previous evening. Silently, but with growing anxiety, Mr. Van Arlen heard him to the end.
He rose, trembling a little, as Aylmer concluded.
"You will excuse me if I leave you to—to give some orders. The one outstanding fact in your story for me is that Landon is here, and that my daughter and the boy are on this expedition. They have their usual attendants, but—but—" He halted, stammering. "He—he may poise his all on one last attempt? He may get together a following which would overpower them?"