"Good day," said Rehoboam, to Anthony, eagerly. "Good day, sir. It is excellent spring weather, is it not?" He nodded and smiled again, and moved toward the street door. "I have just been having a few words with your uncle. A splendid man. A really wonderful person. It's a pleasure to talk with him."
When the man had gone, Anthony stood for a moment, quite still; then he opened the door of his uncle's room and looked in. Charles sat in the corner of his sofa. He did not turn as the door opened; his eyes were fixed and full of fright; his face was white; his whole body seemed shrunken. Startled, Anthony halted, retreated, closed the door.
"It came unexpectedly," said Tom Horn. "It came out of the quiet sea, and left a trail of slime across the deck. And after that I was afraid."
"I don't wonder," said Anthony. "I don't wonder, indeed."
XXII
The end of April saw Anthony draw to the end of his long search among the ledgers. A heap of them lay in his lodgings; and written into the notes which he carried about in his pockets were many curious facts. And in those days the frown between his eyes was fixed, and he went about with lips tightly shut.
"Within a week," he told his uncle, "I shall have done; and then I'll want a long talk with you."
Charles smiled. It was not the quick, vital smile Anthony had come to know, and there was not the snap of the eyes, nor the flash of sound, white teeth.
"Very well," said Charles. "But I'm sure I'll not be able to follow you; for I've never permitted the books to trouble me greatly. However, Weir may be your man for that," with a nod toward that gentleman, who was present. "He has a talent for obscure things."