"He didn't say it was the Harden Library."
"It is, though." Isaac's coarse forehead flushed with triumph. "He's promised me the refusal of it when it comes into the market."
At any other time Keith would have been interested; but his head ached too much now. Still he was not too far gone to recognize the magnitude of the affair.
"You'll have to go down and look at it," continued Isaac persuasively, "and here's the opportunity. You go on their business, and do mine at the same time, and get well paid for it, too."
"I don't quite like going that way. If the thing's got to be sold why do they want it catalogued?"
"That's their business, not mine."
"It looks like 'their' mistake, whoever they are. Where's the letter?"
"I've mislaid it. That's not my business either. My business is to send you off before they find out their mistake. You can catch the eleven express from Waterloo if you look sharp."
Sharp? Never had he looked less so. Still, with his aching head he dimly perceived that his Easter was being tampered with.
"And supposing they want me to stay?"