“Damaged by snow or water, badly tattered?”
“It was,” assented Nasmyth. “I’ve had the book in my hands. I suppose it’s natural that you should guess its condition, but I don’t see what it points to.”
Lisle smiled grimly.
“One wouldn’t be astonished to find some leaves missing from a tattered book.”
“You’re right again.” Nasmyth started. “Several had gone.”
“I think I can tell which part of the journey they related to. A methodical man would make a note of the stores cached, and the lists would be conclusive evidence if anybody afterward opened the caches and enumerated their contents, as we have done. If everything put into the one on the bank Vernon followed remained there, it would prove that he couldn’t have found it. On the other hand, if the one on Gladwyne’s side of the river—”
“Of course!” Nasmyth broke in. “You needn’t labor the point; it’s plain enough.” He stopped for a few moments before he went on again. “I’m convinced; but without that list of Gladwyne’s you still haven’t proof enough to place your account of the affair beyond dispute. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to England—it’s my father’s country, and I meant to visit it some day. Whether I shall find out anything more there or not I don’t know.”
“Then you must stay with me. That’s a point I insist upon. But I must make my situation clear—though I’ve been drawn into this matter against my will, you have my promise, and if ever the time for action comes, I’ll stand by you. But I’ll take no part in trapping Clarence Gladwyne into any admission, nor will I countenance any charge against him unless some chance supplies you with indisputable evidence.”
“Thanks,” said Lisle; “I’m agreeable. You stand neutral until I call on you.”