Enderby’s jaw dropped. “Then it’s still at the Graeme house,” he cried, beating on the floor with his free hand. “Take me back there!”
“Oh, we’ll take you,” said Warren grimly.
Close-packed among them in a cab, they drove him back to Carteret Street. Colonel Ridgway Graeme was at home and greeted them courteously.
“You’ve found Livius,” he said, with relief. “I had begun to fear for him.”
“Colonel Graeme,” began Average Jones, “you have—”
“What! Speech!” cried the old gentleman. “And you a mute! What does this mean?”
“Never mind him,” broke in Enderby Livius. “There’s something more important.”
But the colonel had shrunk back. “English from you, Livius!” he cried, setting his hand to his brow.
“All will be explained in time, Colonel,” Warren assured him. “Meanwhile, you have a document of the utmost importance and value. Do you remember buying one of the Percival volumes at the Barclay auction?”
The collector drew his brows down in an effort to remember.