THE TOUCHSTONE
nard's scruples gave way to irritation. If at this hour Flamel were to affect an inopportune reluctance—!
The older man's answer reassured him. "Why need you assume any responsibility? Your name won't appear, of course; and as to your friend's, I don't see why his should either. He wasn't a celebrity himself, I suppose?"
"No, no."
"Then the letters can be addressed to Mr. Blank. Doesn't that make it all right?"
Glennard's hesitation revived. "For the public, yes. But I don't see that it alters the case for me. The question is, ought I to publish them at all?"
"Of course you ought to." Flamel spoke with invigorating emphasis. "I doubt if you'd be justified in keeping them back. Anything of Margaret Aubyn's is more or less public property by this time. She's too great for any one of us. I was only wondering how you could use them to the best advantage—to yourself, I mean. How many are there?"
"Oh, a lot; perhaps a hundred—I haven't counted. There may be more. . . ."
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