He was not listening to Steel; without ceremony he
interrupted at last.
"I thought you came out to listen to me?"
"My dear fellow," cried Steel, "and so, to be sure, I did! Why on earth
did you let me rattle on? Let me see--the point was--ah, yes! Of course,
my dear Langholm, you haven't really anything of any account to tell? I
considered you a Quixote when you undertook your quest; but I shall
begin to suspect a dash of Munchausen if you tell me you have found out
anything in the inside of a week!"
"Nevertheless," said Langholm, grimly, "I have."
"Anything worth finding out?"
"I think so."
"You don't mean to tell me you have struck a clew?"
"I believe I can lay hands upon the criminal," said Langholm, as quietly
as he could. But he was the more nervous man of the two.
The other simply stood still and stared his incredulity. The stare
melted into a smile. "My dear fellow!" he murmured, in a mild blend of
horror and reproof, as though it were the fourth dimension that Langholm
claimed to have discovered. It cost the discoverer no small effort not
to cry out that he could lay hands on him then and there. The unspoken
words were gulped down, and a simple repetition substituted at the last.
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