The Pursuit Part 13

"That will do, Sillery," he said to the servant. "I'll call if I want you."

As the man went out Despard dropped down upon the sofa. He sat and looked across at his companion with a glance which blended inquiry and concern.

"I've heard only rumors, so far," he remarked.

Aylmer made a little gesture towards the bookcase, which was still broken but empty.

"I came back unexpectedly last night. I had been discussing a point with the general at dinner and ran across to find a book to prove my contention. I found Landon here, ransacking the bookcase. One volume is gone. He took me unawares and knocked me out. I didn't come to for several hours."

Despard made an inarticulate exclamation of anger.

"And he escaped, out of Gibraltar?"

"By the _Miramar_, so the police declare. A Spanish tramp, going down the Moroquin coast and stopping first at Tangier."

"He's gone to kill two birds with one stone," said Despard. "And you are pursuing?"

"Naturally," said Aylmer, in a very matter-of-fact voice.

"And your leave home--Scotland--cub hunting?"

"That goes, of course. Possibly, if ten weeks is insufficient, my secretarys.h.i.+p goes. Perhaps, old chap, even my commission."

Despard got up with a startled jerk.

"What's that?" he cried fiercely. "What's that?"

Aylmer's hand made a deprecative motion.

"My duty's plain, isn't it?" he asked.

"No!" retorted Despard. "If these old women of Commissioners have no more sense than to direct you to keep important books in a simple bookcase in your quarters--"

"Oh, the book?" interrupted Aylmer, placidly. "Of course, there's the book."

Despard halted, hesitated, and looked at his friend with curiosity.

"You mean the contents of it? You can't help them getting known?"

Aylmer nodded.

"We must recognize the fact that they are known by whoever buys them, or whoever hired Landon to steal them."

"Then why worry; why pursue, why start on this wild-goose chase?" He pointed to the great bruise on Aylmer's forehead. "It's outrageous, with that on you. It's probably dangerous."

For a moment Aylmer was silent. He stood looking at Despard, and his eyes seemed to express a sort of speculative criticism.

"Landon is my cousin," he said at last, as if he put the keystone to an argumentative arch.

"What of it?"

For the second time Aylmer hesitated before he spoke.

"It seems to me," he said slowly, "that in this part of the world I am responsible for the good name which he is smirching. He has gone to Tangier--not only to save his skin. He has gone to commence a campaign of terrorization against the Van Arlens. Merely as an Aylmer I have to pit my hand against his, merely to clear our name and to do my duty. And there is more than that. Since Landon, for moral purposes, is dead, I consider that morally, and very possibly legally, I am the child's guardian. To keep my trust I have to safeguard the child from his father."

Despard tapped his fingers doubtfully upon the mantelpiece.

"And the Van Arlens?" he questioned.

There were tones in his voice which made Aylmer pause over his portmanteau.

"The Van Arlens? I am, of course, going to them direct."

Despard hesitated.

"You can't work with them," he said at last. "They won't accept your help."

A flicker of emotion, first of pain and then of purpose, gleamed in Aylmer's eyes.

"But they may need it," he answered. He looked at Despard searchingly.

"And why not?" he went on. "What have they against me except my name?"

"You don't know what it has come to mean to them, in eight years," said Despard, quietly.

And then a queer little silence fell between them, an interval which seemed charged with the electricity of emotion. Despard looked at Aylmer. His friend was staring in his direction, but with a meditative, impersonal gaze which seemed to glance through--not at--him. And a smile grew faintly about his lips, though these, indeed, were pressed firmly together.

He straightened his shoulders, he sighed.

"Of course I start handicapped," he allowed. "But I can run a waiting race." And then he gave an involuntary start and a quick, curious glance at his companion. "We aren't compet.i.tors?" he asked suddenly.

The crimson surged up under the tan on Despard's forehead. He laughed harshly.

"The race was run and I was beaten, nine years ago," he said. "There will be no other entry, for me." He walked up to Aylmer and laid his hand upon his shoulder.

"G.o.d knows, old chap, I wish you luck. But you carry weight, there's no denying that."

Aylmer nodded again.

"To carry weight one wants a stayer," he said. "And I can stay, Despard."

The other nodded.

"Yes," he said quietly. "You can stay. And as far as I know, the course is clear." His voice halted and stumbled queerly. "I ran straight, too, but I was fouled."

And with a grip of Aylmer's hand he went out, to lay the balm of hope against the unhealed wound fate had dealt him, nine long years before.